The Jericho-sized band-aid
Chris Jericho coming back on a random Tuesday in April feels less like a strategic masterstroke and more like a guy realizing he left his stove on. We are seventeen days out from WrestleMania 41, and AEW is dragging their veteran back to the opening segment to try and stop the bleeding.
You can see the desperation in the booking. If you have to rely on the same rotation of guys from 2019 to generate a pop, you aren't building a future, you are just running a reunion tour for a project that feels like it finished years ago.
It is exhausting to watch a promotion with this much talent handle their broadcast like a local independent fed trying to fill a high school gym. Jericho is undoubtedly the GOAT of reinventing his gimmick, but how many times can we hit the restart button on the same character arc before it just becomes white noise?
Pac vs. Ospreay was a masterclass in wasted potential
Let's talk about Pac and Will Ospreay. This was supposed to be the match that defined the spring, a technical chess match that reminded us why we even bother tuning in for non-sports entertainment on a weeknight.
Instead, the match felt like a highlight reel compressed into a container that was far too small. You have two of the finest workers in the business hitting moves that would win titles in any decade, and yet I found myself checking my phone because the stakes simply didn't exist.
When you have a match this high-level, it needs a narrative anchor. Without a clear reason for these two to beat the tar out of each other, it is just guys doing flips in expensive gear. It is the definition of empty calories, even if the flavor is top-tier.
The contract signing trap
Then we have the MJF-Omega contract signing. Every single wrestling promotion does this, and every single time, it is the exact same scene: a talk-heavy segment that leads to a brawl. It is the wrestling equivalent of a jump scare in a horror movie.
We know how this ends. Someone slams a pen, someone tosses a table, and the security guards get paid for the two minutes of work they do separating two guys who are clearly just posturing for the cameras. It is tired, lazy booking that assumes the audience has the attention span of a goldfish.
MJF is a generational talker and Kenny Omega is the best in-ring performer of his generation, so giving them a script that feels ripped from a 2004 episode of Raw is a criminal waste of payroll.
The undercard is a chaotic mess
Watching Shirakawa and the Brawling Birds face off against the Triangle of Madness felt like channel surfing through a channel that wasn't even there. I have no idea who the Triangle of Madness is, and after watching the segment, I am still not entirely sure why I should care.
When a promotion stops bothering to explain why these six people are standing in the ring together, they lose their audience. The crowd engagement was notably lukewarm because the booking lacked any semblance of emotional stakes.
It reminded me of watching a jumbled mess of a mid-card match at a local show where everyone is just happy to get their spot in. AEW has spent the last year struggling to maintain their audience numbers on Collision, and if they keep pushing matches that feel like they were booked using a random name generator, they are going to keep sliding.
The identity crisis continues
Honestly, the whole product feels like it is stumbling into the spring. As recent reports suggest, the viewership crater is getting deeper, and yet the booking remains stubbornly unchanged. You can't fix a structural problem with a fresh coat of paint or a returning opening segment star.
They are trying to play a high-stakes game of professional wrestling while WWE is busy curating their massive Philly takeover. You can see the Wednesday night hangover affecting everything they do, from the pacing of the matches to the frantic nature of the promos.
My biggest fear is that they aren't actually looking at the data. If they keep running these segment-by-segment filler games, the 41 million wrestling fans who were watching back in the nineties will have absolutely no reason to start tuning into TNT instead of Peacock.
They have the talent, but they are lacking the soul. Until they stop booking for their Twitter mentions and start booking for their television audience, they are just going to keep spinning in circles in the mid-week doldrums.
AEW needs a win, something that feels vital and important. A generic return or a standard contract signing just isn't going to cut it in a world where WrestleMania is looming over everyone like a giant, neon skyscraper.
