Why WWE RAW 25 Was A Complete Disaster

Then, various comedic figures - Teddy Long, the Brooklyn Brawler, Brother Love - danced about in a backstage skit, mining the sort of one-note nostalgia we’ve seen in such segments for about as long as the players were in their primes. It raised a wry smile. Nothing more.

Finally, the simulcast began in earnest. The Manhattan Center looked gloriously authentic. Truly, it was a time warp. The entrance area lit bright by the classic flashing neon WWF/E symbol, ICOPRO banners (!) unfurled over the balconies, the arena itself populated by hordes of taste-making hardcores - this felt classic. Ultimately, it was window dressing. Nothing good - at all - took place in the Manhattan Center, onscreen or off, by the vast majority of furious Twitter activity. WWE captured the aesthetic, but woefully misjudged the spirit.

The Undertaker cut a weird, meandering promo, in which he said virtually nothing. He declared that it was time to finally Rest In Peace. “Was that a warning?” Jim Ross asked. “I don’t know exactly how to read that,” Jerry Lawler offered, capturing the sentiment of the audience for the first time in years. “It was scary, though!” he followed up, optimistically.

Optimistic is as good a word as any for the protracted backstage poker segments featuring the APA and a bunch of interchangeable faces - among them MVP, for reasons that will never become clear. The segments were framed as a fun old time - but, really, the guys involved failed to transmit the sense of fun. There were no punchlines, nor any point. Ted DiBiase laughed at nothing. There was nothing to laugh at.

We then cut to a parade of General Managers, the unintended effect of which mapped the show’s decline in quality over the years. The Miz then made his entrance for his challenge of Roman Reigns’ Intercontinental Title. The match was very good. The Miz cheated and cheated well in a contest that embodied all that is good about both performers, and offered a sensational near-fall in a white-hot final lap. The two best segments on a nostalgia-driven show focused squarely on the present. It was a telling indictment of the wider sentiment, but WWE won’t listen. They never do. On that note: Jason Jordan raised genuine smiles in the following Peep Show segment, which did well to build towards Sunday’s pay-per-view. He has nailed the oblivious blowhard bit his fake father made fashionable.

But, over in the Manhattan Center, disquiet brewed. Cloaked in darkness, the fans were left with little choice to partake in a glorified viewing party when they weren’t “treated” to filler Cruiserweight matches. Imagine forking out a month’s salary to watch action you can barely bring yourself to savour for $9.99 per month. Viral videos swept through Twitter of the Manhattan Center crowd loudly yelling “Bullsh*t!” It was both morbidly hilarious - this lot were the hardest of the hardcore, shelling out four-figure sums to join in on the celebration - and a bit sad. This lot were the hardest of the hardcore, shelling out four-figure sums to join in on the celebration. It was a potent visual metaphor for the shoddy way in which WWE treats its core audience. To WWE, they are undiscerning consumers ready to lap up any old sh*te flung at them.

Even the Stans received RAW25 like a ten-hour loop of a Dido album. Jim Ross has refuted accusations that he fell asleep - but he looked incredibly bored in that damning picture, at least. CONT'D...