Why WWE Crown Jewel Is Already A Disaster

by Benjamin Richardson
Saudi Arabia WWE
WWE.com

At the very least, is WWE coming to town a treat for the people of Saudi Arabia? It's hard to gauge interest, much as it's hard to gauge any genuine public opinion from the country, but it doesn't seem they're especially bothered; hidden amidst WWE's latest presser was a subtle change of venue, the company dramatically downsizing from the 68,000 King Fahd International Stadium to the notably more modest 25,000 seater King Saud University Stadium. In any event, the ground will be filled by decree; it might simply be a case that papering upwards of 20,000 seats simply proved too much effort back in April.

The expected windfall for McMahon's next expedition to the Middle East is rumoured to cram company coffers to the tune of $49 million. You wouldn't blame even the most pious of businesses if they weren't a little tempted by such dizzying figures, but WWE, despite being as ethically bankrupt as they come, are absolutely overflowing with funds. The new television contract signed with FOX Network in June is reported to be worth an astronomical billion dollars over five years. That deal alone revivifies the company's balance sheet to levels previously unheard of. Gilding something already gilded smacks of greed; the value of the brand's reputation should be worth much more than the GSA's murky money.

After leaving the army, T.E. Lawrence, swapped his daring adventures in the desert for a pastoral retirement in Dorset. One morning, whilst driving along his daily route, he was flung off his motorcycle after swerving in the road. After all his dangerous exploits, he died simply following his routine. WWE, no matter how much it increases the volume of their detractors, seem undeterred to deviate from their own problematic routine. It won't kill them - deals such as the Saudi one paradoxically guarantee it - but for many former fans, the company that once served them will basically be dead. Is it really worth it?

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Editorial Team
Editorial Team

Benjamin was born in 1987, and is still not dead. He variously enjoys classical music, old-school adventure games (they're not dead), and walks on the beach (albeit short - asthma, you know). He's currently trying to compile a comprehensive history of video game music, yet denies accusations that he purposefully targets niche audiences. He's often wrong about these things.