The worst thing about the electric if baggy Once In A Lifetime - beyond of course the ten minutes in the middle wherein the Rock did little but wheeze - is that it was actually viable.
It felt like a moment in time that could only happen at that time.
John Cena entered the match, deep into the Super years, at his most formidable. The Rock entered the Sun Life Stadium on excursion from Hollywood looking even bigger, in aura and physique, than he had throughout the Attitude Era. The years that separated each charismatic talisman had felt like a lifetime; Cena represented and was synonymous with the PG Era's slick, anodyne aesthetic, whereas Rock starred on RAW when RAW was still raw.
It was a true dream match precisely because it was so unreal. The Rock was never coming back, we thought. He was either too above or too busy for such a landmark match, one promoted before the part-timer era entered full ascendency. 'Once In A Lifetime' felt so wonderfully, plausibly true that a record number of pay-per-view customers purchased WrestleMania XXVIII. And then WWE simply promoted a rematch the next year.
Really, it's our fault for trusting them.
When the Velveteen Dream agonises in a minute-long Baron Corbin chinlock on the TLC undercard, we will have nobody to blame but ourselves.