The One Thing Everybody Gets Wrong About Wrestling
Chris Jericho looked like such a sadist with his demented, skull-scraping application of the Liontamer that Cody surely would have passed out - but MJF throwing in the towel spared Cody a definitive, stigmatising loss. It was the perfectly balanced finish, one that informed his subsequent blood feud with MJF. He wasn't buried. Omega wasn't buried. Page wasn't buried.
AEW gets a kicking (by bad faith actors looking to gotcha Dave Meltzer on Twitter, truly, a pathetic calling) for an apparent failure to present an alternative product with the marketed sports-oriented feel. This isn't untrue at all; even before AEW created the much-needed levity of Stadium Stampede and embraced a sort of heightened quasi-canon in the wake of the unfolding global health crisis, the early promises of "statistics" and the like never materialised. The win/loss rankings are a helpful visual cue as to who is on form, but they didn't drive the booking, at least exclusively.
But AEW has emulated the most important part of sport: the agony and the ecstasy of the failure and the triumph. To borrow an analogy from that sports-oriented messaging, if AEW is a new "league," there's very little in the way of a mid-table. So don't worry.
Or do worry.
That's the point.