I’m about to say something that feels foreign to my wrestling opinions. Usually, I’m staunchly against the idea of relying on dream matches to headline Wrestlemania. And to be completely honest, I’m not the biggest fan of The Rock. However, in the current WWE landscape, he is undeniably the only figure capable of dethroning Roman Reigns in a truly satisfying and impactful way. It’s a position that makes me somewhat uneasy, but the reality is undeniable.
Generally, I strongly oppose the trend of bringing back wrestlers who haven’t been active in years to challenge for major titles, especially at premium events like Wrestlemania. It often feels like lazy storytelling, requiring minimal narrative build-up and relying heavily on nostalgia for a cheap pop from the crowd. This approach comes at the expense of the current roster – the wrestlers who are consistently working to earn their place at the top. For me, the storytelling aspect of wrestling is just as vital as the in-ring action. And storylines like “Goldberg returns, and The Fiend might be in trouble!” simply lack depth. It’s the wrestling equivalent of the umpteenth sequel in a horror franchise – slap a familiar name on the poster (like Goldberg), and the money rolls in, often without needing a fresh or compelling narrative.
The matches themselves in these scenarios are frequently underwhelming, often ending in quick squashes one way or the other. I particularly dislike WWE’s habit of using returning legends as transitional champions, a tactic often employed during Wrestlemania season to shift the title off someone they never truly saw as a long-term main event player. While I appreciate The Rock’s contributions to wrestling, unlike many fans who grew up during the Attitude Era, I don’t idolize him. He was undoubtedly a top-tier heel, possibly one of the greatest of all time, but I never fully connected with his face persona. Becoming a fan favorite didn’t really unlock new dimensions of his character; he was already delivering iconic catchphrases and electrifying crowds as a villain. As a face, his storylines often became simplistic: “Everyone loves The Rock, and this heel is bad because he doesn’t!” Of course, there were exceptions and moments of brilliance, like his underrated feud with Kurt Angle and the platinum-level Rock and Sock Connection, culminating in the Wrestlemania X-Seven main event rematch with Stone Cold Steve Austin. There was gold, but perhaps not as much platinum as nostalgia suggests. I maintain that he could have achieved even greater heights if he had remained a heel. This is likely an unpopular opinion, but having endured countless retread matches featuring Triple H throughout his career, I feel I have some ground to stand on.
In stark contrast to typical dream match booking, Roman Reigns’ dominant three-year championship reign has been consistently platinum-level storytelling. While I haven’t always appreciated WWE giving Reigns extended periods of absence, and the Summerslam storyline and its aftermath were arguably the weakest part of the Bloodline saga, it’s undeniable that this narrative has been the central focus of WWE for three years. Some stagnation is inevitable. The Uso vs. Uso storyline felt like one subplot too many, and the developments since have been somewhat lackluster. However, it’s clear WWE’s focus has been on Wrestlemania since last summer. This long-term planning is now becoming apparent as we approach late January. To bridge the gap during this period of slower Bloodline development, WWE introduced a new world title, which, while understandable from a business perspective, felt unfair to fans, and I fundamentally disagree with the principle behind it. However, I struggle to propose a better solution to arrive at the current, highly anticipated Wrestlemania showdown. This doesn’t absolve WWE of criticism; my own weekly viewership decreased partly due to waning interest in Bloodline developments. But with the impending return of The Rock, it’s clear this extended period was a deliberate strategic pause, allowing all pieces to be positioned correctly on the chessboard for a Wrestlemania climax.
Whether fair to the fans or not in the short term, we are now at a point where the return of a legendary wrestler to challenge for the championship actually represents the most satisfying conclusion to the company’s flagship storyline. For over a year and a half, speculation has swirled about The Rock being the one to finally end Reigns’ historic run. The logic is subtle yet compelling. Reigns has systematically defeated every non-Bloodline challenger he has faced. Only a handful of these contenders – names like John Cena, Drew McIntyre, and Brock Lesnar – were truly believable threats. During his entire title reign, I can only recall four instances where I genuinely believed he might lose to a non-Bloodline competitor. This number is low, but as the Bloodline saga deepened, evolving into a complex narrative more akin to a Godfather-esque mob drama than a typical wrestling stable storyline, it became increasingly clear that this was intentional and necessary. The window for Reigns to drop the title to a standard wrestler motivated solely by championship glory has long closed. I pinpoint last year’s Clash at the Castle, where he defeated Drew McIntyre, as the moment that window definitively shut. Once that match concluded and Sami Zayn’s character arc became profoundly significant, the narrative direction shifted irrevocably.
This evolving storyline is precisely why Cody Rhodes winning at Wrestlemania last year felt narratively insufficient. While Rhodes is a talented wrestler and would undoubtedly be a capable champion, his victory wouldn’t have delivered the narrative payoff the Bloodline story demanded. The storyline had become too intricate, too deeply personal, to be resolved by an outsider. Furthermore, and with no disrespect intended to Rhodes, does he genuinely possess the stratospheric star power required to succeed where so many others have failed against Reigns? Is the simple motivation of #FinishTheStory truly enough to provide an emotionally resonant conclusion to the longest world title reign in modern wrestling history? I argue no. While #FinishTheStory is a compelling angle, far superior to the generic “I want the title more than anyone else” storylines that often emerge post-Royal Rumble, it’s still merely a very good angle when the situation demands a truly great one.
Astute wrestling observers had identified The Rock as the ideal candidate to dethrone Reigns even before Cody Rhodes made his WWE return. The Rock is one of the very few individuals whose star power rivals that of Roman Reigns at this juncture. This match necessitates a clash of titans, a battle between two genuine superstars, not simply two top-tier wrestlers. An underdog victory, while often compelling, would no longer suffice in this deeply layered narrative.
Why not an underdog, you might ask? After all, underdog stories are a beloved trope, especially in wrestling, and a Rumble-to-Wrestlemania underdog narrative is often a fan favorite. However, the intricate developments within the Bloodline saga over the past year effectively negated the potential for narrative closure through a classic “underdog beats superstar” scenario. The Sami Zayn storyline, culminating in “The Trial of Sami Zayn,” was a masterclass in wrestling storytelling, arguably featuring the best promo in wrestling within the last year. This storyline delivered the underdog narrative to near perfection, and yet, Reigns still triumphed. If Reigns were ever going to lose the title to an underdog, it should have been to Sami. Perhaps he should have. I, and many others, were certainly rooting for that outcome. But it didn’t happen.
Another compelling possibility, one that I seemingly championed almost alone, was Jey Uso defeating Reigns at Summerslam. This outcome would have provided the maximum narrative conclusion, a full-circle story literally years in the making. A former tag team wrestler ascending to capture the company’s biggest prize, not as a Cinderella story but as a culmination of deeply personal conflict, could have been arguably the most singular title change in a decade, perhaps even decades. It had the potential to be the best wrestling storytelling in recent memory. However, the majority of the audience doesn’t prioritize intricate writing as much as I do, and many doubted Jey’s ability to carry the company as champion on a national level. They were likely correct; a short title reign for Jey might have diminished the impact of the moment in retrospect.
The next most viable option appeared to be a second Wrestlemania run for Cody Rhodes, built on the premise that a sequel to #FinishTheStory, after a year of additional build-up, would be sufficiently compelling. However, time alone does not equate to narrative complexity. Cody hasn’t been organically woven into the evolving Bloodline subplots since his loss in April. A ten-month pause on an angle doesn’t constitute a year of build-up in my view. Cody has been engaged in other storylines, effectively operating outside the Bloodline narrative. Still, given the exhaustion of other credible challengers and the fact that Reigns has already defeated most of the roster’s top stars, Rhodes remained an understandable, if somewhat underwhelming, choice. It would have been acceptable, but wouldn’t it be far more impactful to have someone intrinsically connected to the Bloodline, or an all-time wrestling superstar, be the one to finally defeat Reigns? Thankfully, that person is available. That answer is unequivocally The Rock.
Globally, only a handful of individuals possess the level of wrestling star power that The Rock commands. Importantly, general celebrity star power doesn’t automatically translate to wrestling star power, as figures like David Arquette have demonstrated. Simply being famous outside of wrestling doesn’t guarantee success or stardom within the squared circle. Wrestling star power, crucially, means star power within the wrestling universe. Perhaps unsurprisingly, wrestlers from the past, whose careers are now distilled into iconic moments, have a more direct path to achieving this kind of star power. While it may not be entirely fair to the current, active roster, it is a logical outcome of wrestling’s historical nature and fan nostalgia. Not every returning wrestler deserves the overwhelming crowd reactions they receive simply for reciting catchphrases on a “special anniversary episode of Smackdown,” but The Rock undeniably does. Very few would dispute this, even wrestling purists like myself, who might harbor minor grievances about his sometimes generic storylines, his limited move-set, his King of the Ring 2000 victory, his middling contributions to the Invasion angle, and his, let’s be honest, terrible rendition of the sharpshooter.
Despite instances of overexposure in the early 2000s and the questionable xenophobia of his return promo against Jinder Mahal, The Rock unequivocally resides on the top shelf of wrestling stardom. I emphasize this not to endorse the concept of dream matches in general. On the contrary, I believe these types of matches are often detrimental to wrestling, and The Rock himself has arguably contributed to this issue as much as anyone. He’s been a prominent figure in the often-irritating trend of bringing back legends for Wrestlemania main events. At Wrestlemania X8, his “icon versus icon” match against Hulk Hogan, while undeniably memorable, is, in my opinion, partially responsible for solidifying this often-overused trope. Rumor has it that WWE didn’t fully grasp the depth of wrestling fans’ nostalgia until they pitted Hogan against their current top star in the Wrestlemania main event. The equal cheers for both Hogan and The Rock that night opened their eyes to a lucrative opportunity, and Hulk Hogan, fully embracing his feather boa-clad Hulkamania persona, became world champion again just a month later.
That was 2002, and the impact of that realization is still felt today. More directly, The Rock himself participated in two of the most high-profile intergenerational dream matches from the opposite perspective, facing John Cena in consecutive Wrestlemania main events. Having not followed wrestling closely during the John Cena era, I can’t definitively say whether The Rock should have occupied those main event slots. I imagine many fans might have felt that wrestlers like Edge or Randy Orton, for example, were more deserving. That period of wrestling, in retrospect, seems somewhat uninspired to me. Were those matches of good quality? I can’t speak to that and honestly, don’t particularly care to. My point is simply to highlight that The Rock has been a central figure in some of the most significant intergenerational dream matches in WWE history, and thus bears some responsibility for their continued prevalence. To suggest he should participate in another to end the most remarkable championship streak of the modern era? Under normal circumstances, it would be a resounding no from me.
However, setting aside my general reservations about dream matches and acknowledging the lack of other compelling alternatives, The Rock is, in fact, the most logically sound choice to defeat Reigns at this juncture, especially after Sami Zayn and Jey Uso have had their opportunities. This perfectly explains why many fans were clamoring for a Rock vs. Reigns match at last year’s Wrestlemania. Whether The Rock’s Hollywood fame is a significant factor is debatable (personally, I find it largely irrelevant), and his pure wrestling star power, while immense, isn’t entirely unparalleled (Stone Cold Steve Austin headlined one night of Wrestlemania just two years ago). However, his Samoan dynasty pedigree is completely unmatched. As arguably the greatest Samoan champion in WWE history by any metric, The Rock possesses the only truly legitimate alternate claim to Reigns’ title as The Tribal Chief. Yes, every wrestler ostensibly desires to be world champion (except perhaps those currently vying for the other world championship on Raw, it seems). But, following Jey Uso’s Summerslam defeat, no one else, with the possible exception of Rikishi, could credibly challenge Reigns for the Tribal Chief honorific. Furthermore, The Rock might, in the eyes of Samoan tradition and wrestling lore, already be the rightful Tribal Chief. Reigns has amassed every conceivable accolade in WWE. It’s almost unthinkable that he might not be who he claims to be. He effectively buried the “but he hasn’t beaten this man” argument over a year ago, in terms of world championship credibility.
That is, as a world champion. But, for all his dominance and title accumulation, The Rock can still legitimately lay claim, perhaps an equal or even greater claim, to the mantle of The Tribal Chief. And in this specific storyline, that cultural and familial title arguably carries even more weight than the world championship itself. Could Roman Reigns lose it all – the championship titles, his Tribal Chiefdom, and his symbolic island – to The Rock at Wrestlemania? He could, he arguably should, and that prospect makes this Wrestlemania main event undeniably exciting and narratively crucial.
