By Colin McGuire, ProWrestling.net Staffer
Dustin Rhodes popped into my head the other day. I can’t remember why. Maybe I read something about him or saw a photo of him or came across a clip of him wrestling. After a few minutes processing him being in my thoughts, something dawned on me: “Wait. He’s a champion somewhere, isn’t he?”
After wrestling with my brain for a few seconds, I reminded myself that indeed, he is. He is one-third of the Ring of Honor Six-Man Tag Team Champions along with those Von Erich boys. Good for him, I thought. Dustin is easy to root for, and root for him, I do. He’s overcome a lot to maintain a life in the wrestling business and it’s great to see him come out on the other side of life’s not-so-pleasant chapters.
It wasn’t until a few seconds after that momentary lapse in memory that I tried to challenge myself again: “Wait. Can I name all the current Ring Of Honor champions?”
Less than half a minute passed and I conceded: No, I could not.
There are too many belts in professional wrestling these days. This much, you already know. Depending on which podcast you listen to or which live review you read, chances are you’ll run into a quick diatribe about how that very fact is both obvious and accepted in 2024. Oddly enough, rarely do we hear an opposite-side argument. “Hey, there are a lot of belts, but … everyone deserves to win one at one point in their career?” I haven’t heard that counterargument (or any other counterargument, for that matter) for as long as this debate has been bubbling. Perhaps that says all we need to know.
Still, I thought I’d humor myself with an experiment. I decided to head to the two most celebrated American wrestling companies’ websites and play the numbers game, if only for a quick giggle. Under the WWE banner – including NXT, and yes, “WWE Speed,” I say while shaking my head in sadness – I found 17 champions. Listed in that tally, it must be noted, is the fact that there are four tag teams – NXT, Women’s, Men’s and, well, Men’s (we’ll get back to that in a second) – and NXT’s vaunted Heritage Cup. With the teams considered, we’re talking a total of 21 wrestlers with something around their waists currently trotting around in WWE.
Conversely, under the AEW banner – for which I included Ring Of Honor because come on, guys, who are we kidding – the count was 16. That included the FTW title and two (two!) sets of trios titles between ROH and AEW. That considered, 22 wrestlers wear gold when we see them on AEW/ROH programming. This says nothing of Mercedes Mone also carrying the NJPW Strong Women’s belt … or Willow Nightingale, who hauls the CMLL World’s Women’s Championship along for whenever she pops up on TV … or Jon Moxley, who only recently stopped carrying the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship … or … or …
Somebody make it stop.
I’m old enough to remember when the WWF had tag titles, the world title, the Intercontinental Title and (maybe) a women’s title. That was it. That was the list. The rest of a card’s matches were left to get by without the benefit of having a belt at stake. Roddy Piper beat Adrian Adonis at WrestleMania 3 because they had built a story (hair vs. hair) leading to that match. Shoot. Even SummerSlam in 1991 had a tag team main event as Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior were victorious in a 3-on-2 handicap match, and no, nary a world title bout was found.
These days, it feels like a good, old-fashioned singles match without any title on the line is antiquated. A thing of the past. A waste of time. Just look at this year’s SummerSlam. WWE’s second biggest PLE of the year had seven matches on it and of those seven, six were title matches. Look at what’s currently announced for AEW’s biggest show of the year, All In, at Wembley Stadium. Of the six matches slated for the main card, five are title matches, while that sixth bout is a Casino Gauntlet match … for a future shot at the world title.
It’s to the point where not only do I not care about who’s wearing what title, but I’m infinitely more intrigued to find a program – any type of program in any wrestling company – that proves to be compelling and yet has nothing to do with gold. Say what you will about Thunder Rosa and Deonna Purrazzo (and yes, it’s probably gone on a bit too long at this point), or even CM Punk, Drew McIntyre and Seth Rollins, but damn. At least we’re trying to build stories around feelings, grudges and humanity rather than merely who’s wearing what belt. That should count for something.
And maybe it does – but it just doesn’t count enough. Or, at least it doesn’t count enough to the people who make these decisions at these pro wrestling companies. Just look at WWE’s flow chart (I told you we’d get back to this). I can forgive – albeit somewhat begrudgingly – the notion of having a “world heavyweight champion” and an “undisputed WWE champion” but we’re really going to go with “Women’s World Champion” and “WWE Women’s Champion?” Or, “World Tag Team Champions” and “WWE Tag Team Champions?” Not that I am or was ever a fan of a “Smackdown” champion or a “Raw” champion, but it’s almost absurd, how tiny the delineation is between some of these accolades. You know what you call Finn Balor and JD McDonagh? Tag champs. You know what you call Tama Tonga and Jacob Fatu? Tag champs.
It’s silly to have two sets of, ostensibly, “WWE Tag Team Champions.”
So, why do these companies do this? I can’t shake the suggestion that perhaps some of that reason is lazy booking. Just look at the hole WWE continues to dig when it comes to naming No. 1 contenders for its lower-level champions now. “Hey, four tag teams. Have two matches between you, winners face each other, and then the winner of that … dag gummit, you got yourself a title shot!” (The structure of the WWE Speed title is even worse, but we won’t go down that rabbit hole). AEW is no better. “Need to have a champion on the card? Let’s organize a casino something-or-other the week before, or wait, maybe a tournament, or hold on, even better: How about an open challenge?!”
Even worse, consider what happens when Super Boredom with the title scene sets in for these bookers: Hey, let’s create another title! Or a revamp of an existing title (MJF’s American Championship). Or a gimmick related to a title (the Money In The Bank Briefcase). It never ends. It just expands, and expands, and expands until the entirety of a three-hour Raw will eventually feature 10 title matches and it still won’t be enough to get all the company’s champions on the show.
All of this to say: I plead with you, pro wrestling decision-makers. Get back to telling meaningful stories that don’t need titles to feel relevant. In fact, since we already mentioned Dustin Rhodes, why not take a stroll down memory lane and head all the way back to WrestleMania 12. Dustin and Roddy Piper had one of the most memorable WrestleMania matches ever when they pulled off the Hollywood Backlot Brawl. The story was hot. The feud felt personal. And this blow-off of an encounter turned out to be one of the touchstones of 1990s WrestleManias whenever such things are reminisced upon.
It had everything. Violence. Story. Emotion. Action. And intrigue. And yet you know what it didn’t have? A title on the line.
Tony Khan. Paul Levesque. I beg you. Please take note.
>>So, why do these companies do this?<<
Easy answer, genius. ESPECIALLY when it comes to the WWE.
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Did your total count the “outside promotion” titles that AEW often features (NJPW, CMLL etc)?
There should be one main men’s title. One set of tag champs. Same rules for the women
Then maybe each show can have its own TV-style champions and maybe one specialty (like cruiserweight). That would be plenty