Vince McMahon's bad steak explains exactly what Chris Jericho will do next

The Butterfly Effect of Bad Catering

Wrestling is a deeply stupid business sometimes. We spend countless hours analyzing match psychology, studying work rate, and dissecting long-term storytelling. We pretend there is a grand, meticulously crafted design behind the curtain. Then, a random story drops on a Tuesday that completely shatters the illusion.

The recent revelation from Chris Jericho is a perfect example of this absurdity. As WrestlingNews.co reported, a massive, marquee storyline involving himself and Shawn Michaels was unceremoniously nixed by Vince McMahon. The reason? McMahon was served a bad steak at catering.

You honestly cannot make this up. It sounds like a parody of an early 2000s dirt sheet rumor. But it is just the stark, unvarnished reality of how WWE operated for decades. A billionaire gets a tough, overcooked piece of meat, gets cranky about his chewing experience, and suddenly months of television planning go out the window.

Think about what that actually means for a second. Chris Jericho and Shawn Michaels had arguably the greatest, most emotionally resonant feud of the 2000s. Their match at WrestleMania XIX in Seattle is a total masterclass in pacing and in-ring psychology. Michaels got the pinfall, but Jericho’s post-match low blow cemented his status as a top-tier villain.

Then we got their legendary 2008 rivalry. It started with Batista, morphed into a blood feud, and gave us the iconic image of Michaels going face-first through the Jeritron 5000. It culminated in a brutal unsanctioned match at Unforgiven and a classic ladder match at No Mercy for the World Heavyweight Championship.

To hear that we missed out on another chapter of that rivalry—another potential classic—because of a culinary disaster is legitimately infuriating. But more importantly, it perfectly explains the psychological profile of the modern-day Chris Jericho. If you want to understand why Jericho operates the way he does in AEW right now, look no further than that bad piece of beef.

The Echo Chamber of Creative Control

When Jericho left the WWE system to help found All Elite Wrestling, he didn't just want a new coat of paint or a different schedule. He wanted absolute, unbreakable creative autonomy. He spent decades watching his hardest work live or die based on McMahon's digestion. You simply do not endure that kind of chaotic environment without developing a massive, impenetrable complex about protecting your own ideas.

This brings us directly to his current run in AEW. Let's be brutally honest for a minute, because someone has to say it. Jericho's recent output has been a massive mixed bag. The "Learning Tree" gimmick and his constant, almost desperate need to attach himself to whatever young talent has momentum is getting exhausting to watch.

It often feels less like he is using his veteran status to elevate younger wrestlers, and more like he is acting as an emotional vampire. He drains their organic heat to keep himself relevant. We saw it with Sammy Guevara. We saw it with Daniel Garcia. He inserts himself into their orbit, the storylines drag on for three months too long, and the younger talent rarely comes out looking better than when they started.

That is the glaring flaw in having total creative freedom. When there is no cranky boss to tell you "no," you end up indulging your worst creative habits. Jericho has been treading water for a while now. His match quality isn't what it was during his 182-day run as the inaugural AEW Champion in 2019. The crowd reactions are increasingly apathetic, bordering on hostile.

Look at his recent big-match form. He took a clean loss to Will Ospreay at All In front of 80,000 people. He dropped matches to Konosuke Takeshita. He is physically slowing down, which is natural for a guy in his fifties, but the character work hasn't adjusted to mask those physical limitations.

The Inevitable Bloodbath

But here is the thing: Jericho isn't stupid. He is arguably the most self-aware, politically savvy veteran in the entire industry. He hears the groans in the arenas. He reads the online criticism. And with AEW Dynasty just four days away on March 30, and Double or Nothing looming on May 24, Jericho is undoubtedly calculating his next pivot.

Here is the hard prediction. We are staring down the barrel of one last, violently serious Chris Jericho run. The goofy, self-indulgent midcard comedy stuff is a smokescreen. Jericho knows he needs a hard reset. He knows the current act is dying a very public death on television every Wednesday night.

I am predicting that by the time we hit the build for Double or Nothing 2026, Jericho will drop all the comedy. Every single bit of it. He will orchestrate a vicious, blood-letting heel turn that completely abandons his current faction. He is going to target a beloved, established babyface—someone like Darby Allin or Orange Cassidy—and absolutely destroy them.

He won't just attack them from behind. He will try to end them on national television. Jericho will lean heavily into the real-life criticism. He will cut scathing promos about how the fans are ungrateful, how he literally built this company on his back, and how he refuses to be pushed aside by flavor-of-the-month spot monkeys.

It will be the classic bitter veteran angle, but executed with the nasty, sadistic edge we haven't seen since his 2008 suit-and-tie WWE run. He will ditch the flashy jackets and the singalongs.

And here is the hardest part of the prediction, the part people won't want to admit: Jericho is going to win this feud.

He will demand a brutal stipulation match at Double or Nothing. We are talking an unsanctioned match or a Texas Deathmatch. He will drag his younger opponent into deep, violent waters. He will use every cheap, underhanded trick in the veteran playbook, and he will get his hand raised in the center of the ring.

Why? Because Jericho's massive ego demands it. He absolutely refuses to fade away into the background. He remembers the days when a bad steak could ruin his entire year. Now, he holds the pen. He books his own finishes. He knows that a clean, decisive victory in a total bloodbath is the only way to force the audience to take him seriously as a threat again.

Look at his historical track record. Whenever the wrestling world writes him off as washed up, he reinvents himself. He did it with the List of Jericho when he was supposed to be an enhancement talent. He did it in New Japan Pro-Wrestling when he shocked the world and brawled with Kenny Omega. He did it by carrying AEW through its infancy.

We are due for another reinvention, and it is going to be ugly. The irony of all this is rich. The very thing that drove Jericho crazy in WWE—the unchecked ego of a boss changing plans on a whim—is the exact power he wields now. He doesn't need to worry about the quality of the catering in Jacksonville.

If he wants to put himself back in the main event picture, he just does it. And he will. The midcard comedy acts have run their course. The fans are turning on him. The environment is perfectly primed for a spiteful, violent response from a guy who refuses to lose his grip on the spotlight.

So mark it down now. The current version of Chris Jericho is a dead man walking. Within the next two months, leading into the May pay-per-view, we will see the return of the ruthless, calculating Jericho. He will leave someone laying in a pool of blood, grab a microphone, and aggressively remind everyone exactly why he is still here.

It won't be pretty. It might even be genuinely uncomfortable to watch. But it will be entirely his design. No rewrites from a crazy boss. No second-guessing. And absolutely no bad steaks to get in the way.