10 Biggest Wrestling Stories Of 2019 (So Far)

AEW's Lex Luger-on-Nitro-moment, this may come to mean more than that.

Lex Luger rejoined WCW in the sort of standard development that happened frequently, with two viable, high-paying promotions in which to work. The timing, and the mission statement visual, elevated it as something groundbreaking. But it wasn't, not really. A wrestler jumped ship. This happened all of the time.

Jon Moxley to AEW is something different. He wasn't, respectfully, an under-utilised midcard act encouraged to subtweet by the rising competition. He was an established star in WWE, a former WWE Champion. His last WWE run was pitiful in its cheap, nasty and inexplicably comedic heat - but his established role and association with the Shield effectively guaranteed a feature role. He was so close narratively to Roman Reigns that he was never in any danger of sliding down the card, or into catering. He was set in a company in which so few are.

But he departed, starving for expression, to a company that welcomed his creative contribution. WWE were oddly magnanimous about the situation, to an extent that it barely felt politicised. Moxley was less kind in his assessment of his former company.

The notoriously private individual - so private that he must have been several shades of totally pissed off - unleashed a shocking public outburst mere days later.

It's easy to infer the WWE creative process just by watching it.

Several writers staff an inept d*ckhead room, none of whom know sh*t about pro wrestling, or even the palpable emotion conflict generates in real human beings. This happens every day, in the must mundane of scenarios. How do they not get it?

If somebody drives too close behind you, the red mist sprinkles your face. It's infuriating. And so you lash out with a fury ripped from your gut before it is processed, and this is probably just muffled, impotent swearing to yourself, but it feels better than just sitting there like a d*ckhead. On RAW, they stand there like d*ckheads.

Or, they return fire with a calculated swipe at their rival's poor sartorial choices, like Dean Ambrose did in 2016 when he asked Chris Jericho what was up with his scarf, dude. All the while, his soul was in a state of decay. He hated doing this sh*t. He found it unfulfilling. More than that, he found it humiliating.

This humiliation haunted him so much that, even after he "Shawshank Redemptioned out of that bitch," he needed to purge the pit of his stomach of the residual work dread he experienced. Moxley scorched the process and bridges alike throughout two incendiary shoot interviews, and beyond the catharsis he allowed himself, it was a genius working ploy. He cultivated anticipation like a master, and turned himself babyface. He didn't whine. He didn't complain. He had no gripe. He disseminated all of this with authority.

After the Art of Wrestling, CM Punk strengthened the resolve of his adoring fans to see him return to the ring. But he was done.

After the Emancipation of Jon Moxley, everybody was desperate to the shackled beast unleashed, and to see what that shackled beast was truly capable of.