Back in the late '00s through the mid '10s, I got really into Street Fighter. I spent about $150 on a special joystick for fighting games, spent hours practicing in the training room, playing online, going to tournaments, watching game footage, etc. I devoured anything Street Fighter, and over (an embarrassingly long) time, I got better. I kept getting better and better to the point where I would win multiple matches at tournaments. Compared to getting 0-2ed out of the bracket and spending the rest of the day as a spectator, that was pretty good.
Just like the pros! (not pictured: talent)
Then I played my buddy who hadn't really played fighting games before. You know how the rest of the anecdote goes: I didn't just lose–I got embarrassed.
What happened? It's a common thing that happens among people learning fighting games. Once players hit a level of competency and an awareness of "correct" play, they tend to insist upon always playing "correctly"--even if their opponent has no idea what that even is. Crudely summarized, you forget how to fight scrubs (translation: new or very low-skilled players). It happens. Usually when a loss like that slaps the taste out of your mouth, you either throw up your hands and give up or, more likely, remember the point of fighting games is to win and not to land all your 1-frame links in your combos. Alex Valle, one of the greatest Street Fighter players of all time, famous for his incredibly sharp, accurate, and innovative Ryu play throughout an insane 28-year career, described top-level play as a ratio of "two smart things and one stupid thing," which is to say: it's not optimal to always make the obvious "right" decision in every situation. It's predictable.
So why am I starting an entry in a wrestling blog with an anecdote about Street Fighter meta-strategy? ADHD, but coincidentally, it's a perfect metaphor for the exact mistake I see being made repeatedly on AEW programming, particularly on AEW Collision, AEW's so-called "B-show." Don't get me wrong--AEW Collision is two tremendously entertaining hours of weekly television. That's why it's so disappointing to see how poor booking (translation: the matchmaking decisions, ranging from match results to the storyline consequences of a match) has prevented Collision from fully becoming the land of opportunity it should be.
Collision has an energy all of its own. With its unique set, style, and personality, Collision stands apart from its bigger, older, more popular brother, AEW Dynamite. Most interesting, I think, is the broad array of talent on offer on Collision compared to Dynamite. Whereas Dynamite, as the flagship show, focuses on a fairly narrow cast of top stars, Collision offers new and up-and-coming talent a platform to compete and show their skills to a wider audience. Collision has given AEW fans an introduction to stars who don't get as much main-roster exposure, including the likes of Queen Aminata, Lady Frost, the Renegades, London Lightning, The Infantry and Trish Adora, Dalton Castle, the Outrunners, and the list goes on. Collision showcases that talent (although rarely in winning efforts) and provides exposure and audience interest that can result in return appearances and elevating new talents up the card. It's where Bullet Club Gold (Jay White and Juice Robinson) merged with the Gunns (Austin and Colton Gunn) to become the Bang-Bang Gang and became synonymous with Collision on their meteoric rise. Despite Collision's status as "the B-show," lest we forget, it was going to be C.M. Punk's show–an equal and opposite show operating independently from Dynamite. What happens on Collision matters. The problem is that nothing is ever allowed to.
Basically the mascots of AEW Collison
Okay. That's all wrestling stuff. By now you're probably asking what all this has to do with the introductory treatise on high-level Street Fighter play. Well, first of all, my point is actually about a common pitfall of intermediate-level players, so maybe hold your horses and wait and see where I'm going with this, you excitable little cutie.
When you're an intermediate player, like I was, you know what "right" play looks like. And at that level, your competition all possesses that same knowledge and baseline expectation. When a scrub appears, though, an intermediate player is uniquely vulnerable. An advanced-level player will just sit back and let the scrub keep making mistakes and punishing them, eventually winning in a boring and efficient manner. A beginner is basically a scrub with better knowledge and execution, so they'll trounce the scrub handily. Meanwhile, intermediate players obsess over doing things the "right" way, and keep getting thwarted because the scrub lives in the real world and doesn't care about what the "right" way is to win.
Owner, CEO, and head of AEW creative, Tony Khan, is an intermediate-level booker. He writes all the matchups, guides all the creative, chooses all the outcomes, and decides the story implications for everything that happens on the show. And he books the show like a guy trying to impress his friends on an internet message board. Like he's put together a big effortpost for r/squaredcircle with his enlightened ideal roadmap of the title picture for the next 12 months. And you know what? Fine. It's not ideal, but I'll take it. When it comes to the main event scene, if Tony Khan wants to book predictable outcomes, okay.
But Collision? Tony Khan brings up fresh, promising talents and matches them up against members of AEW's main roster, only to invariably have the newcomer lose decisively and vanish from television. The result is a card flush with predictable, consequence-free matches with new talent no one can get invested in because we know that in 6 minutes, we'll never see them again. It's heartbreaking because AEW's roster is overflowing with exciting, skilled wrestlers just waiting in the back for a chance to break out. Those opportunities simply do not exist in AEW's current form, seemingly in deference to "proper" booking--as though the relative strength of wrestlers is sacred and immutable. With smart, confident booking and a bit of patience, Collision could be the land of opportunity rather than just exposure. It doesn't take a great writer to contrive a scenario where a newcomer could plausibly upset someone on the main roster, up to and including "being the the better wrestler on the day."
The aspiring talent gets hurt most by Tony Khan indulging his inner redditor when he gets hold of the booker's pen. While rare, the wrong guy does occasionally dig a win at the top of AEW's card. The Patriarchy's recent victory over the Bang-Bang Gang, the Young Bucks over FTR in the Tag Team Championship Tournament finals, Chris Jericho over Shibata, Chris Jericho over Hook, Chris Jericho and Big Bill over Private Party, Chris Jericho over literally anyone in the past four years, etc., are all examples of the person who shouldn't have won--and in some cases, really, really shouldn't have won--and had the feud spawn a new storyline as a result.
All of these are examples of a surprising finish where the expected loser ended up going over (translation: defeating) their "better"/"stronger" opponent. Upsets not only should be allowed to happen; they need to happen to keep things fresh! Not all the time, but enough for every match to feel like there's at least a bit of jeopardy. But on Collision, the aspiring/developmental talent have a ceiling that starts at the basement and ends at the floor. Never did that feel more apparent than Tony Nese vs. Rey Fenix on the July 20, 2024 episode of Collision.
They're like the jocks from an 80s movie except they're the ones getting bullied
The segment starts with Tony Nese coming down to the ring with Ariya Daivari and Josh Wood, collectively known as the Premier Athletes, along with their mouthpiece, "Smart" Mark Sterling. Nese issues an open challenge to the back, daring anyone to step up and take him on. Here's the thing, though: the Premier Athletes never win. They lose all the time. Just all the time. Both as a faction and individually, the Premier Athletes have zero credibility as a threat to anyone on the roster with a recognizable name, so Tony Nese coming out and proudly boasting that he'll take anyone on is rightly met with basically no crowd response. It's not Nese's fault. Despite a slick repackage and having the smooth-talking lawyer "Smart" Mark Sterling as their manager, the Premier Athletes have not had a significant victory on either AEW or sister promotion Ring of Honor in like 3 months. I love their act, but they have never given us a reason to take them seriously as a threat.
This was a chance to change that.
Enter Rey Fenix.
Every story is improved by the line "Enter Rey Fenix"
The acrobatic Rey Fenix presented an intriguing contrast to the classical chiseled physique of Nese. Fenix recently returned from injury and has not lost a step. His speed, athleticism, and sheer in-ring creativity keep the luchador a step ahead of Nese throughout the match's early stages. Simply put, Fenix is the better wrestler of the two, both in storyline and in reality. At this point, based on fan reaction, there isn't a person in the building who would give Nese even a 1% chance of coming out on top. If this were a straight contest, I'd agree, and that would be the end of it, and this blog would be over, and we would all be free, but that's not the timeline we live in. Remember: Tony Nese brought friends.
With Daivari, Wood, and Sterling at ringside, the group is able to repeatedly distract the referee, allowing the Premier Athletes to overwhelm Rey Fenix through sheer numbers while the ref's back is turned. This allows Nese to take control of the contest while Rey Fenix, alone save for his translator and hype man Alex Abrahantes, fights valiantly from the back foot. Fenix will not stay down, and through sheer grit he finds an opening to maybe swing the momentum, but just as a comeback appears hopeful, a (storyline) botched landing on an aerial move leaves Fenix favoring his right knee. For the first time in the match, there's real jeopardy. At this point, a "properly" structured match would have the heels (translation: bad guys) press their advantage, look like they're about to put away the babyface (translation: good guy), perhaps get too greedy with the three-on-one chicanery and get caught by the referee, allowing the babyface the moment of opportunity to make a desperate comeback, the heels regroup and make one final attempt to interfere in the match, it backfires, leading to a scramble that culminates in Rey Fenix hitting Tony Nese with his finisher and pinning him for the 1-2-3.
And... that's exactly what happened.
Pardon my harsh language, but that's some B.S. Actually, you know what? I'm not even going to abbreviate it: that's Boring Storytelling.
Now, here you're probably asking the perfectly reasonable question, "Why is that boring storytelling? That sounds like a perfectly good story for a match between an established main-eventer beating someone from the undercard with zero build or stakes on a random episode of Collision." And notional third party, you're right. I'm with you. I get you. We're one. It's a perfectly good story. It's just that every single story plays out that way. The established talent always overcomes the odds, always beats the challenger, always wins as expected. It's such a shame to see a chance to showcase new talent smothered by slavishly deciding every match based on who the "right" wrestler to go over in an acontextual frictionless vacuum is. Nobody new gets a chance to shine. Ask any artist: exposure only gets you so far. Eventually, you need to actually do something with it.
Rey Fenix could've lost that match.
Instead, things went the way they were supposed to go. That's fine. Things are supposed to go how they're supposed to go. The problem is that on Collision that's how it always goes. It is a problem. 2024 is the Year of the Contract for WWE, and that doesn't just mean re-signing existing talent. WWE is making big plays in Japan, TNA, and, yes, AEW to sign big names this year. AEW is not going to be able to retain all of their talent as a number of those early 5-year contracts start coming up, and unused veteran talent looking to ply their trade elsewhere will do so. Yes, AEW's roster is flush with talent now--it is inarguably the best roster any promotion has ever had, like... ever, ever--but this is when AEW as a promotion should be investing in new talent they can promote to the main roster when their existing talent decides to seek pastures new.
There's a lot to be said for protecting your stars and keeping them looking strong in the eyes of fans. "Protecting" a wrestler means not exposing them to situations or booking match results that make that wrestler look weak or undermine the credibility of their character. Usually, that means winning, because, yes, in wrestling, wins and losses matter. I can't explain exactly how–it's not like it's quantifiable–but the believability and legitimacy of a star is tied inextricably to their perceived ability to actually follow through on the big, crazy promises they shout into the camera. You can't do that if every match ends with you snacking on your own molars while staring at the lights.
I'll say it again: Rey Fenix could've lost that match. Losing to an entire faction cheating on behalf of his opponent doesn't make Rey Fenix look weak! Getting worn down and eventually getting pinned after a long, grueling struggle doesn't make him look weak! If anything, fighting valiantly and having an incredibly close, competitive match in spite of the odds paints him as a strong, classic babyface! Those are perfectly acceptable circumstances for him to lose! Nobody is going to accuse Rey Fenix of hot-doggin' it if he takes the pin outnumbered three (technically four) to one and wrestling on one good leg.
I'm honestly struggling to think of a better opportunity in recent memory to turn a heatless, one-off exhibition match into a beef with some stakes (I stole that). Why couldn't Nese vs. Fenix lead to a feud between the Premier Athletes and Lucha Bros/Death Triangle (Rey Fenix's tag team and faction, respectively)? What else are either team doing? Again, this is a chance to give the Premier Athletes time in front of crowds so they can show off what they're about. Give the Premier Athletes a chance on the big stage to get their act over (translation: gain popularity and credibility with fans). If they don't connect? That's fine. But they at least deserve an opportunity to succeed or fail on their own merits.
Now, since I am (hopefully) speaking to (anyone) non-wrestling fans, I feel the need to clarify that I love Rey Fenix, and I think he's amazing. I want to see him win gold again very soon after an injury cut his initial run with the AEW International Championship short. It might sound weird saying that I wanted a wrestler I love to lose a match to an act I don't particularly have any investment in, but if acts like the Premier Athletes aren't given a chance to sink or swim on a big stage with a consequential storyline, how could anyone get invested? New acts get over by winning. That doesn't mean beating another unknown wrestler in a 5-minute throwaway match on Rampage; it means beating established talent on TV where as many people as possible can see it. Any decent booker could see there is enough meat on the bone for the Premier Athletes to make a play at disrupting the midcard. Any one of the three Premier Athletes are individually talented enough to credibly contend for the TNT Championship with a couple of wins under their belts. Oh, and would you look at that?! There's three of them! Like... guys!! The AEW trios division is right there!!
I don't pretend to be some kind of booking genius, but a brisk four- to six-week feud between the Premier Athletes and the Lucha Bros (or all of Death Triangle if Pac were to get involved) spinning off from this match could've been a lot of fun and a great showcase for three underused talents. It's not even like the Premier Athletes would have to win the entire feud, but this was a chance for Nese, Woods, and Daivari to pick up some meaningful wins and establish themselves as a midcard presence. If Nese picks up a win over Fenix and, say, Daivari picks up a pinfall over Penta el Cero Miedo before ultimately coming up short in a best of 3 falls match, and the Premier Athletes give a strong showing in a losing effort against Death Triangle to blow off the feud, you don't think the Premier Athletes still come out looking better than they started? They'd be sharing the ring with main-eventers!
Maybe I still haven't made my case, though. I'll admit that, as a concept, having an undercarder go over top talent sounds like a bad idea. You want your stars to feel like stars, after all. Could the reward even be worth the risk?
Let me tell you about Sean Waltman.
What peak performance looked like in 1993
Known to fans of the WWF in 1993 as "The Kid," Sean Waltman debuted on Monday Night Raw on May 3, 1993 in a losing effort against Doink the Clown. When The Kid lost his next outing the following week to Mr. Hughes, he appeared destined for life as a jobber, also known as "enhancement talent" (translation: a wrestler hired strictly to lose to more popular wrestlers and make them look good). One could be forgiven for getting that impression; in the jacked and juiced WWF of the 80s, Sean Waltman wouldn't have even gotten an autograph, much less an audition. But in 1993, with the WWF having to bench their biggest, sweatiest, most popular talents due to a looming steroid scandal, the WWF took a chance on Waltman in the scramble to rebuild some semblance of a roster with different, less huge wrestlers. Beside his flamboyant New Generation contemporaries such as Bret Hart, Doink the Clown, Yokozuna, The Undertaker, Sean Michaels, et al, a lanky, bemulleted curtain-jerker like The Kid appeared to be at no risk of stealing any spotlights, but that would change on the night of May 17, 1993.
Standing opposite The Kid that night was the Bad Guy himself: Razor Ramon. Ramon was an extremely popular and well-established main-eventer who on the way up and still miles from his ceiling. Against an extremely popular and heavily pushed (translation: given lots of focus and storyline importance) star like Ramon, The Kid was an interchangeable punching bag filling a spot that could've gone to any of a thousand other hapless geeks. Nowadays, wrestling fans tune into their favorite weekly wrestling shows and expect to see competitive matches up and down the card, but back in the early 90s (and even more so in the 70s and 80s), it was extremely common for professional wrestling programming to prominently feature "squash matches," where the popular wrestler gets all the offense and effortlessly destroys his or her opponent in like 4 minutes, go to commercial, and back for the next squash.
As long as he had an opponent, Razor Ramon had a toothpick
It was a foregone conclusion that Razor Ramon was going to win this match. The fans knew it. Ramon sure as hell knew it. He had spent most of the match toying with The Kid, but now it was time to put him away. Ramon hoisted The Kid up to finish off the newcomer with the Razor's Edge and effortlessly score the 3.
At least that's the how the "proper" booking goes.
Instead, The Kid managed to slip out and reverse the move into a surprise pin attempt. Ramon, caught completely off-guard by his opponent's sudden act of desperation, wasn't prepared as his shoulders hit the mat and the ref made the count. 1... 2... 3. Razor Ramon sat in stunned silence as the roof came off the arena. Although Ramon had trounced his overmatched opponent from bell to bell, it was the younger, smaller, less experienced Waltman having his hand raised. The Kid was over, in every sense. For the remainder of Sean Waltman's (first) tenure in the WWF, he went by a new moniker: The 1-2-3 Kid. With a single victory, Sean Waltman had literally made a name for himself.
Following the encounter, The 1-2-3 Kid would be featured in several storylines opposite Razor Ramon, The Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase, the Smoking Gunns, Savio Vega, and Marty Jannetty. Sean Waltman left the WWF a few years later and would go onto a successful run in WCW under the name "Syxx," before returning to the WWF as X-Pac, where he would enjoy a successful 4-year run that included several midcard and tag title wins, and would then go on to multiple runs in the indies and closing out his career with TNA.
And what of poor Razor? Was his push derailed by losing to an undercarder? Did he spiral into irrelevance before departing unceremoniously in the next round of talent cuts? Let's see here. Let me just check the record books and... hmm... ah, okay, yes: it says here that following the devastating loss, Razor Ramon's would merely win the WWF Intercontinental Championship a then-record four times over the next two years before going on to a successful career in WCW as a founding member of the New World Order, the most popular pro wrestling faction of all time. Oh. And he eventually got his win back against The 1-2-3 Kid in a Crybaby Match, where the loser had to wear a big diaper and hold a giant bottle because wrestling is the best form of entertainment) I guess he did alright, huh?
What am I getting at with this? Closer to my loved ones having me sectioned and a conclusion. You're welcome.
Drama happens when things go wrong. When the natural order is disrupted. Tony Khan needs to quit booking like a member of the internet wrestling community trying to impress an even more unbearable segment of the internet wrestling community. It's alright for the favorite to lose. It's alright for the star to get shown up. The "right" guy isn't always the right answer right then.
I'm going to go off on a quick rant here--because everything preceding this wasn't--so if you'll just indulge me...
It's been such a shame watching Trent Beretta's betrayal of Orange Cassidy play out because Orange Cassidy always wins. He always comes out on top. Trent Beretta never meaningfully defeats or takes anything from Orange Cassidy in their feud. That's boring! Orange Cassidy has been on top for two years! The drama is in him suddenly falling to an adversary who knows how to exploit his weaknesses. Trent sacrificed everything by turning on Orange Cassidy and Chuck Taylor. As sick as it sounds, he should be rewarded for it. That's the purpose of the heel turn! He advances his character by achieving his goals! If. He's. Not. Rewarded. Then. What. Was. The. Point.
Okay. Rant over.
Tony Khan's constant insistence on ensuring that the top talent don't cleanly lose sometimes borders on the absurd. It's almost fourth-wall breaking. I rolled my eyes when Khan had to make sure his #1 favorite wrestler Will Ospreay got a visual pinfall over Swerve Strickland that just didn't count because the ref was out. What's the harm in letting Swerve win clean? He's the Men's World Champion, for crying out loud.
Okay, okay. Now it's rant over.
Wrestling booking should be about keeping your stars looking strong, yes, but it should also be about building the next guys up. I'm getting into the weeds here, but there's a point where protecting your talent and keeping them strong becomes overprotecting your talent. When established stars can never, ever lose to a perceived "lesser," the card stagnates, matches become predictable, and aspiring talent get buried.
I hope that Tony Khan can stop stratifying the AEW roster into a rigid hierarchy where everyone has a strictly defined floor and ceiling on their success. That starts with giving undercard talent some consequential wins on shows like Collision. In the past year, some amazing Ring of Honor talent have wrestled like shadows of themselves on Collision in the interest of making someone who already looks good, look good. Worst of all, it benefits those who need it the least at the expense of opportunities to elevate new talent. Collision can be AEW's land of opportunity; a place where crafts are honed and new stars rise. Give some of that fresh, up-and-coming talent their time in the spotlight and show off their strengths, and I promise we will see history.
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