If WWE Was Being Honest About 2020
Drew McIntyre pulled off the Ace Champion role very well, which is all the more impressive, given the extent to which WWE makes you hate them. He was no cornball telling utterly sh*t jokes; he cut an easygoing but intimidating presence and worked several stiff bangers to almost rescue WWE's wretched spring pay-per-view cycle.
The Sasha Banks Vs. Bayley programme earned yet more plaudits; a mostly well-plotted saga in which Sasha Banks slowly came to realise that Bayley was suppressing her ambition to stay on top, the uncharacteristic nuance and patient slow-burn was rewarded with the best segment number drawn by anybody other than an Attitude Era megastar in 2020. That TV blowoff was great. Sasha finally atoned for her dismal legacy as a champion via the best possible storyline vehicle. Even better was their Hell In A Cell war, a creative and dramatic masterclass with enough piss and vinegar to complement - and not detract from - the awesome deluge of ideas.
Roman Reigns returned with his new 'Tribal Chief' character at SummerSlam. Radiating menace and presence, the exposition is divisive. But Jesus Christ is the physicality objectively awesome, and Jesus Christ does he effortlessly project himself as a very, very bad man. He is, incredibly, after all these years, the Roman Reigns management and his peers alike were so adamant about.
And yet, WWE's reputation remains in the mud.
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