We are exactly 31 days away from Double or Nothing 2026. You can always tell when Tony Khan looks at the calendar and realizes a pay-per-view is looming. The booking accelerates from zero to sixty, logic sometimes takes a backseat, and we get episodes of Dynamite that feel like a fever dream. Wednesday night in Portland was exactly that.

A roaring crowd in the Pacific Northwest was treated to two straight hours of absolute violence, questionable time management, and the kind of in-ring wizardry that makes you remember why you put up with the exhausting discourse surrounding this company. Let us talk about the good, the bad, and the downright dangerous.

Opening the show at 200 miles per hour

If you are going to kick off a wrestling show in a notoriously loud building, you might as well send out Will Ospreay. Throw Rey Fenix in there with him, and you essentially guarantee that physics will be ignored.

This was exactly the kind of breathless sprint you expect from these two. Ospreay has spent the last two years cementing himself as the best bell-to-bell wrestler breathing. Fenix remains a human video game glitch.

They did not waste time with feeling-out processes. Within three minutes, Fenix was hitting a springboard tornillo to the outside that looked like it cleared the guardrail by two inches. Ospreay fired back with a sheer-drop brainbuster on the apron that made my neck hurt just watching from my couch.

The finishing sequence was absurd. Fenix went for a rolling cutter, but Ospreay caught him mid-air, reversed it into a sit-out powerbomb, and immediately transitioned into the Hidden Blade. The match clocked in at exactly 22 minutes. A masterpiece of a television match.

But here is my problem. When you start the show with a match that goes long and features three near-falls that could have ended a pay-per-view, where do you go from there? You burn the crowd out before the first commercial break. The pacing issue continues to be a thorn in AEW's side.

The Salt of the Earth is still angry

Following that blistering opener, we got MJF in the ring. Look, Max is always angry about something, but his current grievance tour is producing some of his best promo work in months.

He came out wearing a custom Burberry scarf that probably costs more than my car. He immediately demanded a microphone and told the production truck to cut his music, screaming at a poor stagehand in the process.

His target? None other than the current AEW World Champion. Max systematically dismantled the champion's recent title defenses, framing them as nothing more than glorified sparring sessions. He pointed out that nobody buys the current reign as legitimate.

It was classic MJF. He paced the ring, dripping with condescension. He insulted the local sports teams, taking a totally uncalled-for shot at the Portland Timbers. It is low-hanging fruit, but the man knows how to play a room.

He wrapped up by declaring that at Double or Nothing, he is taking his spot back at the head of the table. Max is locked in. An angry, motivated MJF is exactly what the main event scene needs right now.

The Elite's frustrating holding pattern

Later in the first hour, we got the obligatory Elite segment. Matthew and Nicholas Jackson came down to the ring dressed like they were attending a high-end Miami real estate seminar. Kazuchika Okada flanked them, looking perpetually bored but incredibly wealthy.

They cut a promo running down the Portland crowd. It was standard cheap heat. Bringing up the Trail Blazers' playoff drought is easy pickings, but it works.

However, the trios match that followed against Orange Cassidy, Tomohiro Ishii, and Mark Briscoe felt entirely skippable. Do not get me wrong, seeing Ishii absorb forearm strikes from Okada is always a good time. The man simply does not have a neck to attack.

Briscoe brought his usual chaotic energy, throwing a steel chair at Nicholas behind the referee's back. But the match dragged. It went through two picture-in-picture breaks.

We know The Elite are heading into a massive program for Double or Nothing, but right now, they feel like they are treading water. Okada hitting the Rainmaker on Cassidy for the win was predictable. We need some actual stakes for this faction, and fast.

Car crashes and high art

If the opener was a sprint, the midcard clash between Konosuke Takeshita and Darby Allin was a high-speed car crash.

Darby continues to treat his own body with a level of disrespect that belongs in a medical journal. He taped his ribs up before the match, which is basically drawing a bullseye on yourself when you are facing a striking machine like Takeshita.

Don Callis was at ringside, looking like a melted wax figure of a 1980s mob boss. He directed traffic while Takeshita systematically dismantled Allin.

Takeshita hit a Blue Thunder Bomb that had so much rotation I thought Darby was going to drill straight through the canvas. The sheer power advantage was terrifying to watch.

But Darby never stays down. He rallied with a Coffin Drop to the outside, wiping out both Takeshita and Callis. The crowd lost their minds.

Eventually, the size difference was too much. Takeshita caught Darby coming off the top rope with a mid-air knee strike that sounded like a gunshot. He followed it up with a vicious delayed German suplex for the victory.

This is the Takeshita we need. A silent, terrifying killer who just throws people around. Stop giving him overly complicated storylines with the Don Callis Family. Just let the man hit people very hard.

The Women's Division delivers again

If there is one undeniable positive about AEW in 2026, it is how thoroughly the women's division has found its footing. Mariah May and Willow Nightingale beat the living hell out of each other in the second hour.

Willow is the best pure babyface in the company. Full stop. The crowd desperately wants to see her succeed. When she hits that Pounce, it genuinely looks like she is launching her opponent into the fifth row.

May, on the other hand, leans into her vicious streak perfectly. She targeted Willow's knee early and never let up. She locked in a modified figure-four around the ring post, drawing massive heat.

The finish came when Willow missed a moonsault. May immediately capitalized, hitting a running knee strike to the back of the head, followed by a Storm Zero for the pin. It was clean, it made sense, and it positioned May perfectly for a title shot next month.

The post-match beatdown was unnecessary, though. Having Mercedes Moné run down to make the save felt rushed. Give the moment to the winner before rushing to the next angle. Sometimes, letting a heel stand tall in the ring is enough.

Attempted Homicide in the Main Event

We need to talk about Swerve Strickland and Hangman Adam Page. These two simply cannot exist in the same building without trying to end each other's careers.

The main event was billed as a standard singles match to determine the number one contender for the AEW World Championship at Double or Nothing. It took exactly forty-five seconds for it to devolve into a street fight.

Tony Schiavone sounded genuinely concerned on commentary, and for good reason. Page was bleeding from the forehead before the five-minute mark. Swerve introduced a staple gun, because of course he did.

The violence was gratuitous. At one point, Hangman powerbombed Swerve onto the steel steps. The thud echoed through the arena. You could hear the front row collectively gasp.

Swerve fought back, hitting a Swerve Stomp from the top rope to the floor, driving Page through the timekeeper's table. It was pure, unadulterated chaos.

The climax arrived back in the ring. Hangman set up for the Buckshot Lariat. Swerve ducked it, hit a half-nelson suplex, and followed up with a House Call that nearly took Page's head clean off his shoulders.

Instead of going for the pin, Swerve locked in a ringside cable around Page's throat. The referee had no choice but to throw the match out. A double disqualification in 2026? It felt like a massive cop-out, reminiscent of those awful late-90s WCW Nitro main events where nobody wanted to do the job. Despite the non-finish, Swerve has now gone 14 straight matches without a clean loss.

The Road to Vegas

So here we are. We have a non-finish in the main event, which almost certainly means Tony Khan is going to book a Three-Way Dance for the World Title at Double or Nothing.

Is it predictable? Yes. Is it going to be an incredible match? Also yes.

The Portland crowd went home happy despite the dusty finish, mostly because Swerve and Hangman continued brawling into the concession stands as the show went off the air. That is the kind of visceral hatred that sells pay-per-views.

A few stray observations before we wrap up:

  • Renee Paquette's backstage interviews are the glue holding this show's transitions together.
  • The refereeing in the tag team division is still a complete joke. Enforce the tag rules.
  • Justin Roberts has seemingly found a new octave for his main event introductions.

AEW needs to tighten the screws. The high spots are phenomenal. The athleticism is unmatched. But the narrative tissue connecting these incredible matches is still too thin.

When you have a roster this talented, you do not need to rely on cheap disqualifications or twenty-minute matches that burn the crowd out by 8:30 PM. Just let the storylines breathe.

Double or Nothing is looming large. They have exactly 31 days to figure out the balance. If they do, Vegas is going to be unforgettable. If they do not, we will be having this exact same conversation in June.