Why WWE Is Getting The Royal Rumble Wrong

The 60 men and women who performed in it on Sunday aren't the 1980s muscle monsters who starred in it during the genre's formative years. The sight of these younger, significantly more athletic stars toiling by the ropes, as if they are no different to Hercules and Dino Bravo, is as jarring as it is boring. That's not to pitch some increase in strategic risk that would portray this generation as brainless morons—we have scripted promos for that—but more rapid-fire eliminations, with performers dizzied and endangered by the awesome, convoluted multi-man sequences that stun us elsewhere, could potentially create something more than in-the-moment excitement.

The filler element of the Rumble, a match that really doesn't have to reach the length that it does, has in recent years compelled WWE to sprinkle gimmicked bullsh*t over the lull periods. It’s a match in many respects we barely even watch at times. The tedious elements of it compel us to constantly anticipate the countdown clock, which in turn feeds the beast. Who will spare us now from the mass of unmoving flesh? An NXT star? No, not that one. He’s not my subjective favourite. A returning Attitude Era favourite? Wrestling was so much better then, but the part-timers are killing WrestleMania.

It’s war all the time. It’s every fan for himself.

Are these lulls even required? If the singles match exists in a constant state of flux and progression, why can’t the Rumble? It’s not heresy, for the Rumble match is no longer sacred.

“You either adapt, or you perish,” Triple H is fond of saying on WWE television. This is true of everything—even an institution, like the Rumble, once thought of as timeless.