Best Wrestling Storyline Every Year 1989-2024
16. 2009: Jeff Hardy Vs. CM Punk
Jeff Hardy, in the mind of CM Punk, was an undeserving career failure who received chance after chance after chance despite messing up every single time. By cashing his Money In The Bank briefcase in on Jeff at Extreme Rules, Punk probably thought he was doing you all a favour. He saved you from the inevitable disappointment.
Plotted with a slow-burn sophistication antithetical to the week-to-week desperation of the Guest Host era over on Raw, Hardy Vs. Punk was perfect - so perfect that the performances elevated cop-out finishes. In fact, the performances were so great - that prick Punk using his “injured” eye to wink at Jeff, revealing that he’d intentionally disqualified himself at The Bash - that the screwy finish actually meant something. Punk Vs. Hardy redefined the disqualification. At long last, the fans resented the heel and not the booker: that’s how awesome Punk was in the role.
Once Punk dropped the facade of sportsmanship and smashed Jeff over the head with a microphone, the ideal dynamic was realised.
Contrast.
A militant straight edge egotist versus a man struggling with addiction: it was in fact all too real, all too believable, since Hardy spiralled, again, weeks after it was done.
For years, people fantasy-booked a certain dream feud, and yet, the demented, hate-fuelled exhilaration of the Punk Vs. Hardy TLC match at SummerSlam was better, surely, than anything Punk and Steve Austin could have mustered.
15. 2010: CM Punk Vs. Rey Mysterio
It must have been a dream to wrestle Rey Mysterio, particularly for the emerging heel desperate to break through.
CM Punk was in imperious form as the Straight Edge Saviour. A great sports entertainment-sized update on his holier-than-thou persona, it was a literal but no less effective tweak. Punk’s legendary ego and self-belief had swelled to such an extent that he deemed himself capable of saving your very life.
He got real weird with it, by singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Rey’s young daughter, conveying that he, as guiding light of the very world itself, would make a better guardian. Many wrestlers, to cringe-worthy effect, attempt to play creepy. Punk, pro wrestling genius, nailed it.
Infuriatingly, WWE threw away an opportunity to promote a technical classic at WrestleMania. The first Rey Vs. Punk PPV match of 2010 went just 06:28.
Motivated by this ostensible demotion, Punk and Rey tore the house down at Extreme Rules.
The programme was so flawless that it soared even when it went wrong. At Over The Limit - where Punk’s Jesusian hair was lopped off, exposing him as a false prophet - the match was stopped, temporarily, when Punk bled the hard way.
Watching Punk get the match back on track by violently blowing Rey away immediately after the restart was an all-time great display of his genius instincts.
14. 2011: CM Punk Vs. John Cena
Provided you pretend that it ended at Money In The Bank, this was it in a barren year.
The ‘Summer of Punk’ was truly beyond parody. Punk was the anti-authority ‘Voice of the Voiceless’ in June. Months later, he was a scab happily performing double duty for his boss - the doofus son-in-law he had buried during the Pipebomb promo. This was the precise equivalent of a besuited Steve Austin willingly becoming the Corporate champion of Vince McMahon in 1998.
As a self-contained chapter, though, Punk Vs. Cena was incredible.
A great wrestling story really only needs a great promo to heat it up and a great match to pay it off - and does it get any better than the Pipebomb and Money In The Bank ‘11?
With the Pipebomb, Punk excoriated WWE and lit a fire under its enchanted fanbase. With irresistible, venomous delivery, Punk threatened to walk out on a broken, sh*tty system - and this theme of escape was deftly incorporated into the breathless counter-driven epic at the PPV, in which Cena just couldn’t seem to execute anything on an invincible, slippery Punk.
It took all of a fortnight to go awry, but in the WWE of 2011, you were truly blessed to get something that great for three weeks.
13. 2012: The Rock Vs. John Cena
Even when it was actively bad, The Rock Vs. John Cena was fascinating on an insider level. This was a collision of huge egos. This was Cena’s chance to prove, freed of the PG trappings, that he could be as cool and as cutting as his legendary sh*t-talker of an opponent.
The Rock’s “Kung Pow bitch” insult was awful, a parody - but wasn’t it electrifying seeing him look so rattled at how poorly it was received?
Beyond the fiction, Rock Vs. Cena was an almost awkwardly thrilling game of political one upmanship.
And it was great when it was great. The babyface Rock character of the 2010s was very lame a lot of the time, but the segment in which he buried Cena’s Krusty the Clown-esque range of merchandise?
When it wasn’t ugly and problematic, it was a comedic tour de force.
The match at WrestleMania XXVIII went far too long, and was actively tedious at points - but it was stunning at others.
12. 2013: Hiroshi Tanahashi Vs. Kazuchika Okada
Great pro wrestling is all about the “when”.
Increasingly, and it’s very difficult not to feel spoiled by this, countless wrestlers can flawlessly execute ambitious, exciting moves and last-gasp counters. The true artists know when to do it for the maximum dramatic effect.
In the ring - and with Gedo in his booking prime holding the pencil - is there a better illustration of the all-important “when” than the immortal Hiroshi Tanahashi Vs. Kazuchika Okada rivalry?
The premise was simple - and the work had to be nothing short of outstanding in order to substantiate it. When was Okada going to supplant the great Tanahashi as the undisputed Ace of New Japan Pro Wrestling?
Every time Okada drew closer to his Destiny, closing in on Tanahashi’s throne, Tana - like the great sporting dynasties - would find a way to get it done under the harsh glare of the bright lights.
With Tana’s dragon screw and Okada’s levitation dropkick, each wrestler was equipped with the move - and the know-how of when to deploy it - that pressed the question again and again, subverting your expectations.
When would Okada finally be the man?
This was so fantastic that you almost regret asking it, looking back. You should have just appreciated the gift of the moment.
11. 2014: The Shield Vs. The Wyatt Family
WWE deserves little credit for the success of the Yes! Movement storyline. That was projected onto the promotion by disgruntled fans and was only made possible through the exit of CM Punk.
Daniel Bryan Vs. The Authority was actively bad. Yet another retread of Austin Vs. McMahon, it missed the point entirely: Austin embarrassed Vince every week, where there was no catharsis nor entertainment value in watching Bryan get told he wasn’t a draw week after week after week.
The Shield Vs. The Wyatts feud was short, simple, incredible.
It connected with fans because it was an ultra-rare development: faction warfare premised on one act succeeding another, when the top dogs, unlike the endless Attitude Era relics, had only been established two years prior. It felt, at long last, like that era of WWE had created its own stars - by design and not by accident - and was genuinely intent on a youth movement.
The Elimination Chamber six-man was electrifying. Watching the gigantic Luke Harper in particular dismantle the ultimate team with his awe-inspiring dive set your soul on fire.
It was also a very effective means of building the Shield’s split. While the Shield later went over Evolution, the loss at Elimination Chamber stuck with Seth Rollins, who was the first to grasp that his stable was closer to the end than the beginning - and was callous enough to cash in the chips.
10. 2015: Bayley Vs. Sasha Banks
Contrast.
Sasha Banks was the cool heel who carried herself like a megastar. Bayley was the humble super-fan who reached that level without once feeling entitled to it.
At TakeOver: Brooklyn, Bayley and Sasha worked a masterpiece. Sasha was cool, but not so cool that the impeccable dynamic and contrast was ruined. Sasha destroying Bayley’s injured hand and slapping her in the face after a loathsome heel taunt ensured that. A towering achievement, Bayley and Sasha stole the show away from Kevin Owens and Finn Bálor the first time that show hit the big arena.
Back in Full Sail, the half-hour 30 minute Iron Man sequel, while not quite as lean and flawless, peaked even higher at its best.
Sasha stealing the headband from young Bayley super-fan Izzy was unconscionable - Izzy looked inconsolable in that moment. Bayley avenged her biggest fan by, and this was so goddamn awesome, stomping violently on Sasha’s hand at the finish.
The best babyfaces are decent and virtuous people - until they are wronged.
2015 Bayley was one of the best babyfaces of all-time.
9. 2016: The Revival Vs. #DIY
The last great story that Paul Levesque told in NXT, or certainly the last story that has aged well.
(The Johnny Gargano Vs. Tommaso Ciampa singles programme, through sheer excess and cringe-worthy melodrama, outstayed its welcome, occupying a place now between “great feud that peaked early” and laughing stock.)
Much better as partners than rivals, that Ciampa may one day turn on Gargano was an excellent subplot. Ciampa - before the whole “I don’t want to seriously hurt my friend” bit reached diminished returns - had failed to use his killer instinct to put Gargano away in the Cruiserweight Classic.
The NXT fanbase - never higher on the product - had two rooting interests. The fandom wanted #DIY to win the Tag Team titles and stay the course as a team. Ciampa and Gargano weren’t brought in as fashionable indie stars paraded in the front row of a TakeOver. They needed your support to get there. That was very rewarding.
One of the great modern tag team stories culminated at TakeOver: Toronto. #DIY prevailed over the Revival in an agonising, breathless Two Out of Three Falls classic.
Beyond the awesome content, the feeling that you had something to do with it was such a high.
8. 2017: Kazuchika Okada Vs. Kenny Omega
A story that unfolded across 2017 and culminated (for now) in 2018, Omega Vs. Okada was a masterpiece.
The original encounter at Wrestle Kingdom 11 was seminal, an absolute game-changer of a match. Promoted in the cavernous Tokyo Dome, produced with WrestleMania-sized glitz, and worked with a depth of storytelling and advanced athleticism never before witnessed, it proved to lapsed fans that the medium could be as big and better than WWE.
The second match was equally great. Omega’s iconic sell - he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion just before Okada could blast him with the Rainmaker - was an ingenious, unique method of conveying how the modern super-athlete should convey the struggle of an epic. Omega and Okada were then paired together again in the G1. Nobody thought this was a good idea.
It was: in stunning contrast to the previous two matches, the 24:40 run-time felt like an urgent 10 minute sprint. Time has never flown quite so quickly in the squared circle.
Was it all “too much”, as some critics and fans suggested?
Nope: in being unable to hit the One-Winged Angel clean in the middle in matches one and two, and only beating a weakened Okada in match three, Omega was savvy enough to create a hook for every rematch.