The Day WWE Hell In A Cell Died

A year is a lifetime in wrestling.

Whenever a Champion makes it to 365 days with a title, it's seen as such a collector's item that it's typically promoted as an achievement as grand as the original win. There's a nice blending of reality and fiction to the climax. Us mere mortals have always been told by those that excel in their fields of how it's just as hard to stay at the top as it is to get there. Yet, pro wrestlers are robbed of elements of that prestige due to the nature of the industry - their victories are decided by somebody else, no matter how hard they work or how much that hard work may be deemed "deserving" of the triumph.

A more accurate way to describe the magnitude of a year-long reign would be to lay out the guts of the process - Wrestler A has prove themselves the right person to win a belt, and then has to be trusted day after day 365 times to be the best person to hold it. In any line of work, that sort of assurance, trust and respect is something to be aspired to, but in wrestling - and WWE specifically - it's a minor miracle.

Weekly live output and (pre-global crisis) a regular touring schedule resulted in a level of familiarity with performers that made the year feel so much longer. You can typically engage with your favourite WWE Superstars more than half of your friends and family, and that was the case before we were all limited to Zoom calls.

It's longer still in 2020, yet we are still mourning the f*cking state of Seth Rollins Vs The Fiend like it happened yesterday. And that itself was a full year on from the company tossing away what remained of the gimmick's ghoulish artifice when Brock Lesnar literally pulled it to bits.

CONT'D...