Tim Kail's Raw Review, 1/27/25

This week’s Monday Night Raw, another middling, mostly pointless episode, ended with an intense dialogue between Cody Rhodes and CM Punk. It was a well-acted scene with several well-constructed statements, mainly that Cody Rhodes is no longer “chasing” CM Punk but that it was now Punk “chasing” Rhodes.

One would be forgiven to surmise, based on this scene, that Punk v Rhodes will headline WrestleMania 41. In fact, I’d argue this scene necessitates Punk face Rhodes for the title at Mania. Otherwise, why am I seeing it?

The characters have an interesting history and the imagery and soundbites would make for a fantastic pre-match vignette. Everything about their interactions over the past year, culminating in this promo, lays the groundwork for a championship match.

And yet, I don’t buy any of it.

Am I A Pro-Wrestling Fan Or A Human Bei

I stood with my hands in my pockets and my eyes on the floor, waiting for the next stall or urinal to open up. We were a pack of shifty men, unaccustomed to bathroom lines. A father and a son talked about Spiderman: Homecoming (the movie we'd all just finished watching) behind me. The father liked it. The son wasn't so sure. Both loved Michael Keaton. Most of us were quiet save a few customary post-pee man-grunts.

A stall door opened, and a bearded young man exited. He wore a Bullet Club tee-shirt. I recognized the skull and crossed AKs immediately. Even though I knew nothing about the Bullet Club (other than the fact that they exist and are important in indy wrestling) I experienced the warmth of recognition.

A fellow wrestling fan!

The Magic Of Wrestling Action Figures

I held Anakin Skywalker in my hands, and I felt nothing.

For the first time in my life, an action figure wasn’t anything more than a piece of cheap plastic. His poorly molded head stared up at me, devoid of magic. His unarticulated arm was stiff so that a lightsaber would go in and out the hilt extending from his hand, making it appear as though the blade could be turned on and off; the kind of gimmick I always hated even as a little kid. Toys with “Chop action!” buttons, bells, and whistles assumed I didn’t have an imagination. His fixed pose felt like an insult to my intelligence.

My mom sat next to me in the car, watching me open two more figures inspired by Attack of the Clones: a similarly stiff Obi-Wan Kenobi and a tiny Padme Amidala. We were in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, our custom during these sacred action figure openings.

The Anatomy Of WWE Backstage Segme

I haven't watched a full episode of RAW in over three months.

I catch up by way of clips on Twitter and I skim through Hulu's already abridged version. I spend most of my time perusing the promos, the skits, and whatever vignettes there may be, cramming the broad strokes of the larger narratives so that I might be able to pass whatever WWE-quiz comes my way. Altogether, after also checking up on SmackDown, I've condensed my WWE-viewership into about thirty minutes a week (unless there's a pay-per-view and then that duration naturally increases).

The result is that I'm a much happier human being, and I'm probably a lot easier to be around. I don't obsess about booking decisions. I don't bicker with anyone online. I don't care about anyone's criticism of my criticisms. The imagined judgements of some phantom "real pro-wrestling fan" have vacated my mind, replaced with a sense of peace and the ability to interact with pro-wrestling in a healthier way on my own terms.

The Writings