I don’t usually do stuff like this but I have sh*t to get off my chest.
I’m wrestling Samoa Joe for the world title on Saturday night, and I have no idea what’s going to happen after that. You’ll probably hear some stories about me over the next few days, about my contract, about the injuries I’ve been dealing with, about the condition my body is in, about who knows what else. I’m sure it’ll all leak. That’s fine.
But AEW turns FIVE on Monday — January 1st, 2024. And that f*cking means something to me. And since everything beyond Saturday feels so uncertain, I want to share my thoughts on it now. I want our fans to hear from me ahead of whatever comes next.
1.
There’s a reason that “workers rights” get brought up so often in conversations around AEW: It’s because we have a lot goddamn more of them now. This sh*t isn’t rocket science. Competition = bad for management, good for labor. There used to be one major American wrestling company, now there’s two. That f*cking matters. It matters for the wrestlers who work here, since we all have jobs that literally didn’t exist five years ago. But it also matters for the wrestlers who don’t work here. For everyone in WWE, AEW means not having to work in monopoly conditions. It means more options, which means more leverage, which means more money. (And I’ll take a wild guess and say better treatment.) And for wrestlers outside those two companies, AEW matters not just because it exists, but because of how it exists. Listen … if you google me, I think it says I’m 5'11" — but we all know that’s horsesh*t. I’m like 5'8", guys. And this is a place where, simply put, a 5'8" Jew can be world champ. If you know wrestling history then you know that’s a big deal and why.
So while I welcome anyone being critical of AEW (God knows I am)..... if you’re actually actively rooting against us? Against us EXISTING? Guess what, you’re the f*cking worst. You’re rooting against workers. And that’s the truth. Because out of all the incredible things that AEW has done over these last five years, #1 with a bullet is “put MJF on TV.” But #2 is “make the wrestling industry just a little bit better to work in.”
2.
Cody took a chance on me and put me on the card at All In. Then Tony took a chance on me and signed me to AEW full-time. But let’s not kid ourselves: I was pretty much brought in to be the guy you disliked — who didn’t stand a chance against the guys you loved. You know those wrestling moments we all grew up on, where some legend comes out to talk to the crowd, but then a younger guy interrupts them, is an a$$hole, and eats a fist to the face? I think that’s what they saw me as when we started. Just look at Double or Nothing 2019, our first-ever PPV. They had Bret Hart come out to unveil the AEW World Title. They had Hangman Page come out to get Bret’s co-sign and look cool. Me??? I said a few words, got booed, and took a punch. I wasn’t looked at as being a potential top guy.
But I’ll never forget the moment before I went out there. I mean, picture it: I’m 21, barely a few years into the business, and I’m being told to cut a promo on Bret Freaking Hitman Hart. Over 10,000 people in the arena, something like 100,000 watching on PPV. So before I walk out, I ask Tony and those guys what feels like a pretty f*cking good question: “Ummm…... what do I say??” And they just look at me for a second with these blank-ass stares. And they’re like, “........what do you mean? You know how to talk.” That’s when I realized what AEW was going to be like — and that it’s where I was meant to wrestle. Because, yeah, O.K., they brought me in as fodder. Tough luck. But they also gave me a chance to make my own luck. You know what I mean? Like — they threw me into the deep end, floaties off, and said sink or swim. Get over with our fans or don’t. And I’ll take that any day compared to the other way it’s been done in our business, historically, which is: they place you gently in the shallow end, floaties on, no actually you can’t take them off (it’s a rule), also you never get over because you look f*cking ridiculous with floaties on, but you don’t sink so that’s good, and oh yeah you’re fired.
Trust me, though, AEW isn’t for everyone. “Sink or swim” cuts both ways like a motherf*cker. If you watched us in Year One, you know that. I won’t name any names. But suffice to say, there were guys who had all the buzz in the world coming in at the start — and it turns out it was just that. Buzz. Seriously, there were guys who no one could shut up about. Oh my god, so and so, that dude is a MASSIVE star. Then you’d hear someone mention Darby Allin and it’s like, Yeah, Darby’s cool and all … but he’s little. He’s not REALLY gonna get over. You know who the GUY is? It’s so and so.
But here’s the thing: It wasn’t so and so. It was f*cking Darby, who was supposed to be too small and too weird. (And is a b*tch who I’ve beaten twice with a headlock takeover — but still.) And it was f*cking Penta and Fenix, who definitely got dismissed by a lot of people at first as just these “run-of-the-mill” luchas. And it was f*cking Kingston, who is a BUM sure but got crazy over just by being himself, a dude from Yonkers. And it was f*cking me — who was meant to top out at “Cody’s sidekick” or the douchebag of the month or whatever. (And then of course you’ve got someone like Hangman, who everyone said would be great and he was. Prick!)
Bottom line: AEW = opportunity in every sense of the word. If you’re good, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’re mid, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’ve still got it, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’re washed as f*ck, it’s an opportunity to show that.
I’m wrestling Samoa Joe for the world title on Saturday night, and I have no idea what’s going to happen after that. You’ll probably hear some stories about me over the next few days, about my contract, about the injuries I’ve been dealing with, about the condition my body is in, about who knows what else. I’m sure it’ll all leak. That’s fine.
But AEW turns FIVE on Monday — January 1st, 2024. And that f*cking means something to me. And since everything beyond Saturday feels so uncertain, I want to share my thoughts on it now. I want our fans to hear from me ahead of whatever comes next.
1.
There’s a reason that “workers rights” get brought up so often in conversations around AEW: It’s because we have a lot goddamn more of them now. This sh*t isn’t rocket science. Competition = bad for management, good for labor. There used to be one major American wrestling company, now there’s two. That f*cking matters. It matters for the wrestlers who work here, since we all have jobs that literally didn’t exist five years ago. But it also matters for the wrestlers who don’t work here. For everyone in WWE, AEW means not having to work in monopoly conditions. It means more options, which means more leverage, which means more money. (And I’ll take a wild guess and say better treatment.) And for wrestlers outside those two companies, AEW matters not just because it exists, but because of how it exists. Listen … if you google me, I think it says I’m 5'11" — but we all know that’s horsesh*t. I’m like 5'8", guys. And this is a place where, simply put, a 5'8" Jew can be world champ. If you know wrestling history then you know that’s a big deal and why.
So while I welcome anyone being critical of AEW (God knows I am)..... if you’re actually actively rooting against us? Against us EXISTING? Guess what, you’re the f*cking worst. You’re rooting against workers. And that’s the truth. Because out of all the incredible things that AEW has done over these last five years, #1 with a bullet is “put MJF on TV.” But #2 is “make the wrestling industry just a little bit better to work in.”
2.
Cody took a chance on me and put me on the card at All In. Then Tony took a chance on me and signed me to AEW full-time. But let’s not kid ourselves: I was pretty much brought in to be the guy you disliked — who didn’t stand a chance against the guys you loved. You know those wrestling moments we all grew up on, where some legend comes out to talk to the crowd, but then a younger guy interrupts them, is an a$$hole, and eats a fist to the face? I think that’s what they saw me as when we started. Just look at Double or Nothing 2019, our first-ever PPV. They had Bret Hart come out to unveil the AEW World Title. They had Hangman Page come out to get Bret’s co-sign and look cool. Me??? I said a few words, got booed, and took a punch. I wasn’t looked at as being a potential top guy.
But I’ll never forget the moment before I went out there. I mean, picture it: I’m 21, barely a few years into the business, and I’m being told to cut a promo on Bret Freaking Hitman Hart. Over 10,000 people in the arena, something like 100,000 watching on PPV. So before I walk out, I ask Tony and those guys what feels like a pretty f*cking good question: “Ummm…... what do I say??” And they just look at me for a second with these blank-ass stares. And they’re like, “........what do you mean? You know how to talk.” That’s when I realized what AEW was going to be like — and that it’s where I was meant to wrestle. Because, yeah, O.K., they brought me in as fodder. Tough luck. But they also gave me a chance to make my own luck. You know what I mean? Like — they threw me into the deep end, floaties off, and said sink or swim. Get over with our fans or don’t. And I’ll take that any day compared to the other way it’s been done in our business, historically, which is: they place you gently in the shallow end, floaties on, no actually you can’t take them off (it’s a rule), also you never get over because you look f*cking ridiculous with floaties on, but you don’t sink so that’s good, and oh yeah you’re fired.
Trust me, though, AEW isn’t for everyone. “Sink or swim” cuts both ways like a motherf*cker. If you watched us in Year One, you know that. I won’t name any names. But suffice to say, there were guys who had all the buzz in the world coming in at the start — and it turns out it was just that. Buzz. Seriously, there were guys who no one could shut up about. Oh my god, so and so, that dude is a MASSIVE star. Then you’d hear someone mention Darby Allin and it’s like, Yeah, Darby’s cool and all … but he’s little. He’s not REALLY gonna get over. You know who the GUY is? It’s so and so.
But here’s the thing: It wasn’t so and so. It was f*cking Darby, who was supposed to be too small and too weird. (And is a b*tch who I’ve beaten twice with a headlock takeover — but still.) And it was f*cking Penta and Fenix, who definitely got dismissed by a lot of people at first as just these “run-of-the-mill” luchas. And it was f*cking Kingston, who is a BUM sure but got crazy over just by being himself, a dude from Yonkers. And it was f*cking me — who was meant to top out at “Cody’s sidekick” or the douchebag of the month or whatever. (And then of course you’ve got someone like Hangman, who everyone said would be great and he was. Prick!)
Bottom line: AEW = opportunity in every sense of the word. If you’re good, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’re mid, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’ve still got it, it’s an opportunity to show that. If you’re washed as f*ck, it’s an opportunity to show that.
what’s the cliff notes.
