Listen to Greta Thunberg: there really is such a thing as 'too much heat'.
Admittedly, the Green Queen of Sweden's entreaties revolve around scientifically substantiated theory (not a hypothesis!), and are more pertinent to a dangerously overcooked world than they are a wrestling ring, but still, the maxim holds true for the latter.
Today, we lament the fact that in the post-caring era, generating legitimate rancour as a heel is a thankless task. Once over, the fine art was sharpened to such a point it could sometimes prove double-edged. The price of making people really hate you is that, well, they really hate you. And, as the previously intimated climate change deniers prove, this is not a world short of a few Ted Loons. These two facts combined make the proverbial recipe for disaster.
It's almost impossible to imagine now, given the last clear example of 'nuclear heat' is a kid's upturned face at The Miz, but there was a time when the villains of the squared circle would whip up such a fervour that'd they had to be secreted out the arena. Hanging back for autographs was off the table; it was all they could do to get to their car without being punched, kicked, or otherwise maimed with a variety of homebrew weapons.
Some weren't so lucky - but at least they lived to tell the tale.