Four fingers in the air for the hundredth time
It is Monday, May 4th, and if you are anything like me, your Twitter feed is currently a battlefield of grainy 1980s JCP clips and people arguing about whether Barry Windham or Lex Luger was the superior fourth member. We are exactly five days out from WWE Backlash 2026, but the internet has decided to take a massive detour into the past thanks to the latest A&E Biography on the Four Horsemen. It is the wrestling equivalent of comfort food—salty, greasy, and probably not great for your blood pressure, but you cannot stop yourself from ordering another round.
The documentary dropped last night, and predictably, the wrestling community is split into three very distinct camps. You have the purists who think Ric Flair invented the concept of charisma, the cynics who are tired of seeing the same five stories retold every three years, and the workrate nerds who just want to talk about Tully Blanchard’s transitions. It is a beautiful, chaotic mess that reminds you why wrestling fans are simultaneously the best and worst people on the planet.
As PWInsider detailed, the focus wasn't just on the glitz. They actually spent time on the mechanics of what made that group work. But let's be real: we are here for the takes. I’ve been scouring the threads, and the discourse is already reaching a boiling point. If you aren't ready to defend Arn Anderson's spinebuster with your life, you might want to log off for the week.
The nostalgia trip vs. the 'Flair fatigue' crowd
The first group of fans is the 'Take My Money' demographic. These are the guys who probably own a bathrobe that looks suspiciously like a flamboyant wrestling cape. For them, this documentary is a holy text. They see the Four Horsemen not just as a stable, but as the blueprint for every cool heel group that followed. Without the Horsemen, you don't get the nWo, you don't get Evolution, and you certainly don't get the Bloodline. They are the Alpha and the Omega of the 'suit and tie' wrestling villain.
"Watching Arn and Tully talk about the tag team psychology made me realize how much we've lost. Modern wrestling is great, but nobody sells a limb for ten minutes while Ric Flair screams about his shoes anymore."
Then you have the cynics. This is where I usually reside when I’ve had too much espresso. The 'Flair Fatigue' is real. We have seen approximately four thousand documentaries about Ric Flair since 2010. We know about the planes, the robes, the divorces, and the 60-minute draws in Greensboro. For this crowd, the A&E doc felt like a polished corporate PR piece that skipped over the darker, more interesting bits of the territory era. They wanted more dirt and less 'isn't it great that we all stayed friends.'
Fritz Von Erich and the Deadman's origins
One of the most fascinating nuggets to come out of the recent news cycle isn't even about the Horsemen directly, but about how the industry was a giant, interconnected web. There has been a lot of chatter regarding how Fritz Von Erich played a massive role in helping a young Mark Calaway—long before he was the Undertaker—get his footing. In an era where everyone is obsessed with who is 'Triple H's guy' or 'Tony Khan's project,' hearing about the old-school mentorship of the Von Erichs is a refreshing change of pace.
The 'Deep Lore' nerds are eating this up. It adds a layer of irony to the Undertaker's career. You have this gothic, supernatural icon whose career was essentially jumpstarted by the patriarch of the most tragic, grounded wrestling family in history. It is the kind of trivia that makes you feel smart at a bar until your friends tell you to shut up and watch the game. The consensus here is that we need a ten-part series just on Fritz's business dealings, though most of us know that would probably be too grim for cable TV.
The Bella Army still has its bayonets fixed
Meanwhile, in the world of the 21st century, the Bellas are back in the headlines. Whether you love them or think they represent the 'Divas' era that fans tried so hard to move past, Nikki and Brie still move the needle. The reaction to their latest updates is the usual polarized madness. One side thinks they are pioneers who paved the way for the women's revolution by bringing in eyes from the E! Network, while the other side argues they held back the 'real' wrestlers for years.
"People forget that Nikki Bella actually put in the work. Her forearm smash was legit, and she stayed relevant longer than almost anyone from her class. Let them have their flowers already."
My take? The truth is somewhere in the middle. The Bellas were the bridge between the 'bra and panties' matches and the Becky Lynch era. They weren't Manami Toyota in the ring, but they were stars. The internet's refusal to give them even an inch of credit is one of those stubborn wrestling fan traits that will probably never die. They are the Nickelback of wrestling—everyone claims to hate them, but the numbers say someone is definitely watching.
The Verdict: Is nostalgia holding us back?
Here is my critical observation: as much as I love a good trip down memory lane, WWE and A&E are becoming dangerously reliant on these legacy documentaries. It’s a safe bet. It’s easy content. But at some point, you have to wonder if we are so obsessed with the 1980s that we are failing to build the same kind of mythology for the current roster. Will there be a two-hour documentary in 2045 about the LWO or the Judgment Day? Probably not if we keep recycling the same Horsemen stories.
The Horsemen doc was a solid 8.5 out of 10 if you like high-production nostalgia, but it didn't tell us much we didn't already know. It glossed over the fact that by 1990, the group was already becoming a parody of itself with members like Paul Roma. Yes, I said it. Paul Roma was a Horseman, and every time we pretend that didn't happen, we are lying to ourselves. That is the problem with these biographies; they want to give us the legend, but they rarely want to give us the reality of the decline.
At the end of the day, the Four Horsemen remain the gold standard for a reason. They represented a level of excellence that felt unattainable. When Ric Flair said he was better than you, he usually was. When Arn Anderson threatened to break your arm, you believed him. That level of conviction is 100% what is missing from a lot of modern promos. We have better athletes now, sure, but we don't have many guys who make you believe they'd actually fight you in a parking lot over a championship belt.
As we head into Backlash this weekend, maybe the current roster should take a few notes. You don't need a million-dollar light show or a complicated meta-narrative. Sometimes you just need four guys in expensive suits who look like they’re about to take over the world. Just... maybe don't invite Paul Roma this time.
