The problem with being 'Him' in a stadium of thousands

It has been exactly two years since Carmelo Hayes got the call to the big leagues in April 2024, and for about eighteen of those months, the vibe was weird. Not 'bad' weird, like a 2010 guest host era segment, but 'identity crisis' weird. Hayes arrived on SmackDown with a massive reputation from NXT, a wardrobe that cost more than my first car, and a catchphrase that worked perfectly in the 400-seat CWC but felt a bit lonely in a 15,000-seat arena in Des Moines.

In a recent conversation with WrestleTalk, Hayes finally pulled back the curtain on that awkward transition. He admitted that before this recent babyface turn and the sustained push he’s currently enjoying, the fans weren't entirely sure what to do with him. It’s a rare bit of self-awareness from a guy whose entire gimmick is built on being the most confident person in the room. Usually, you’d expect a wrestler to blame the booking or the 'fickle' crowd, but Melo admitted he could feel the disconnect.

The issue was simple: the 'Him' gimmick is inherently heelish, yet he wrestled like a highlight reel that you wanted to cheer. He was doing springboard clotheslines and the First 48 with the grace of an Olympic gymnast, but then telling the fans to shut up. It was like watching a young Steph Curry play for a team you’re supposed to hate—eventually, you just want to see the shots go in and scream along with the celebration.

What the streets (and Reddit) are saying

If you spent any time on the forums during the back half of 2025, you saw the war of words over Hayes. He was the ultimate Rorschach test for modern wrestling fans. Some saw a future WrestleMania headliner, while others saw a guy who was getting lost in the shuffle of a loaded SmackDown roster that was already top-heavy with guys like Cody Rhodes and LA Knight.

The 'Too Small' Brigade

There is a vocal contingent of the IWC that still lives by the 'big man' rule. Even in 2026, if you aren't 6'4" and 240 pounds, you have to work twice as hard to prove you belong in the main event. Here is a typical take from a popular wrestling Discord after Hayes lost a mid-card match last November:

"I like Melo, but let's be real. He looks like a child standing next to the Bloodline. His 'Him' stuff is cool for Instagram, but on a three-hour show, he just feels like another athletic guy who can't cut a promo without sounding like he's reading a Twitter thread. He needs to go back to NXT or find a tag partner before he becomes the next Ricochet."

This was the prevailing sentiment for a long time. The skeptics felt he was all flash and no substance, a 'GIF wrestler' who could give you a three-star match on demand but couldn't make you care about why he was fighting. They saw the 'Him' branding as a shield to hide a lack of deep character work.

The 'Main Event Melo' Truthers

On the flip side, you have the fans who have been following him since the North American Title days. To them, the 'Him' branding isn't just a catchphrase; it’s an aura. They argued that the mixed reactions Hayes mentioned were a failure of creative, not a failure of the performer. A top post on r/SquaredCircle from earlier this year put it bluntly:

"Everyone saying Melo is 'mid' is going to look real stupid when he's the one carrying the US Title for 300 days. The guy has better footwork than 80 percent of the roster. The mixed reactions aren't because he sucks; they're because WWE tried to make him a generic heel when he's clearly the coolest guy in the building. Turn him face, let him fly, and watch the merch fly off the shelves."

These fans saw the 'Him' persona as a modern evolution of the cocky babyface, something akin to a young Shawn Michaels or The Rock. They weren't confused by him; they were waiting for the company to catch up to what they already knew: Carmelo Hayes doesn't miss.

The Pivot: Why the babyface turn had to happen

Hayes’ admission that the fans 'weren’t sure how to feel' is the smoking gun that proves the turn was necessary. In wrestling, the worst reaction isn't boos; it's the sound of a thousand people whispering to their neighbor, 'Wait, are we supposed to like this guy?' For a two-year stretch, Hayes was stuck in that limbo. He was a heel who didn't do anything truly loathsome, and a face who didn't show enough heart to win over the casuals.

The shift started when he stopped trying to force the 'Him' branding as a reason to look down on people and started using it as a standard he had to live up to. The promos became less about his jewelry and more about the chip on his shoulder. You could see the change in his eyes during that series of matches with Andrade—he wasn't just hitting moves; he was selling the struggle. He stopped being a video game character and started being a human being.

The crowd reaction shifted almost overnight. The 'Melo' chants became rhythmic rather than scattered. When he finally hit that nothing but net leg drop to win a high-stakes match on SmackDown last month, the pop was genuine. It wasn't the polite applause of a crowd that respects a good athlete; it was the roar of a crowd that finally understood the story being told.

The Final Verdict: Is he actually money?

Here is my hot take: Carmelo Hayes is the most important 'project' WWE has right now. If they can successfully transition him into a permanent main event babyface, they’ve secured the next decade. He bridges the gap between the 'workrate' nerds and the casual fans who just want someone who looks like a superstar. He has the crossover appeal that many of the guys from the black-and-gold NXT era lacked.

However, let’s be critical for a second. The 'Him' branding is still a bit of a crutch. It’s a 2022 relic that he’s clinging to because it’s familiar. In 2026, he needs to evolve beyond a three-letter pronoun. We know he’s 'Him,' but who is the man behind the brand? When he’s in the ring with a veteran like Cody Rhodes, you can still see the seams. His promo timing can feel a bit robotic, like he's waiting for his turn to speak rather than reacting to what’s being said to him.

Heading into May 9 for Backlash 2026, the pressure is on. He has the momentum, he has the crowd, and he finally has the self-awareness to admit where he was falling short. But there is zero chance he stays at this level if he doesn't find a new gear. The mid-card treadmill is littered with guys who were 'almost there' and then got bored. Hayes isn't bored yet, and neither are we. For the first time since his call-up, the fans aren't just watching him; they're rooting for him. That's the difference between being a good wrestler and being a star.