To 'Fabe Or Not To 'Fabe ... (Pt. I)
To 'Fabe Or Not To 'Fabe ... (Pt. I)
Whether Or Not You Want To Admit It, Kayfabe Still Matters Quite A Bit!
TEXT BY KEVIN McELVANEY [Editor-in-Chief]
EVERY YEAR, WITHOUT fail, observers across social media refer to the PWI “500” ranking (and its siblings, the “Women’s 150” and “Tag Team 100”) as a “kayfabe list.” While that label is certainly not unearned, it’s also a strange way to try to discredit or reduce the importance of the list. In fact, I’d argue, kayfabe has much more of a hold on even the “smartest” fans—even on the workers and promoters themselves—than they would ever dare admit.
There’s a reason that PWI continues to rely heavily on kayfabe in our rankings, placing more emphasis on booking than on most other subjective notions of what makes for a “good” wrestler. Even in 2022, kayfabe is typically about the most solid indicator of success there is. We can debate all day about whether The Miz is awesome or awful. Either way, he is given enough TV time—along with the occasional championship or key win—to be widely perceived as a pro wrestling superstar. But is he on the level of Roman Reigns? Well …
Sure, there are some pro wrestlers who, it could be argued, are punching above their weights. There are those rookies who ascend arguably too soon; the veteran politickers who benefit from nepotism and backstage maneuvering; or the failed experiments with grapplers whose reigns atop a division or promotion prove almost instantly regrettable. I won’t bother to list any of the names here. Truth is, you’ve probably already got a few of them in mind.
On the other side of the coin, you’ve got someone like Ricochet, who, despite showing incredible promise, just can’t seem to be given a true moment to shine at the highest level. Maybe that will change over time, or perhaps the Kentucky native will be viewed as an underrated performer who never quite got his due. For his sake, I do hope it’s the former scenario.
The cream almost always rises to the top of the wrestling industry. The Dwayne Johnsons, Bryan Danielsons, Jon Moxleys, and Mickie Jameses of the world are proof of this. And, even if the cream does not rise, time will ensure the spoiled milk is at least kept out of nose’s reach. Those who lack in some areas—charisma, storytelling abilities, or technical acumen—are forced to strengthen their weaknesses or, inevitably, they become exposed. If those wrestlers aren’t good enough in those other, more intangible areas to justify a continued push, they (usually) won’t get one.
Back to my earlier point about “smart” fans being swayed by kayfabe: How many times have we seen the most educated enthusiasts complain that a wrestler was getting pushed “too soon” or that someone “doesn’t seem like a credible champion”? In some instances, that’s because of a real concern over that wrestler’s output in the ring and how it might affect the quality of the show as a whole. Fair enough. But I’d wager that, far more often, those same fans are merely reflecting their perception of the wrestler according to their place on the card—not so much objective reality, as it is a suspension of their disbelief.
When Kofi Kingston finally won the WWE World championship in 2019, after a decade of waiting for a proper opportunity, most fans were overjoyed … at least, at first. In the weeks and months that followed, Kingston was positioned more as a mid-card attraction than as a bona fide main-eventer. His opponents included Dolph Ziggler, who was in full mid-card mode himself, and Samoa Joe, whose only world title wins came well before his main roster WWE run. Both Joe and Ziggler were remarkably talented wrestlers and capable performers, but defeating them did very little to establish Kingston as “the guy” in WWE.
Kofi Kingston’s run, despite its near-universally acclaimed beginnings, is widely considered to have been a dud. Even considering Kingston’s continued popularity—as well as the historic nature of his reign, as only the second Black WWE World champion ever—it’s unlikely most readers will have any problem with my calling his reign underwhelming. Isn’t it strange that a six-month world title run, with such historical significance and a beloved wrestler attached to it, would be so easily dismissable?
After all, it’s not like Kingston was out there stinking up the joint every night. He didn’t suddenly lose his charisma, noted in-ring ability, or dedication to the sport. He didn’t become embroiled in scandal or do anything in particular to lose the loyalty of fans. What he did do was commit the same unforgivable sin as Rey Mysterio, CM Punk, and others during their first WWE title reigns: Carry the title without the full conviction of WWE booking behind him. This was evident in the matches he won, as well as the humiliating squash match that ended his reign.
To this day, when we look at the reigns of Kingston, Punk (reign #1), or even Eddie Guerrero and dismiss them as unimpressive, we’re certainly not commenting on the abilities of the wrestlers themselves. No, we’re internalizing how the wrestlers were presented within the fiction of professional wrestling.
In All Elite Wrestling, why does Wardlow suddenly feel like less of a hot commodity? If anything, his promo and in-ring skills improve with every single appearance. But would he really be taken seriously as a main-eventer? I’d argue that, at this very moment, he would not. Despite him winning most matches in dominant fashion, Wardlow’s TNT title reign rarely saw the right mix of opponent and stakes that makes for classic championship clashes. For much of the run, he was biding his time in a cobbled-together tag team—WarJoe—with Samoa Joe.
At the end of the day, fans want to see a good story told. Once he pulled away from MJF, Wardlow had all the spirit and momentum of a freed Dave Bautista feuding with Triple H, but with almost none of the follow-through. Remember: “Big Dave” went on to trounce Triple H two more times, while also leveling JBL on multiple occasions and defeating the likes of Edge and Eddie Guerrero.
Ultimately, even the best performers are beholden to the booker’s pencil. And we can argue all day about which wrestler we think throws the best punch, dropkick, or Northern Lights suplex. To really quantify greatness, we do need to look at a wrestler’s concrete achievements within the fantasy world of pro wrestling. The confidence of a promoter is, after all, what turns an underrated “wrestler’s wrestler” or scrappy cult favorite into a potential hall-of-famer.
Coming soon to your inbox: Part Two. Stay tuned …