Pro-Wrestling is Peak Storytelling
Image I took at Monday Night Raw in Tulsa
WWE has always struck me as one of the purest forms of storytelling — the kind that blends spectacle, emotion, athleticism, character, and community better than almost anything on TV. The storylines stretch across years, sometimes decades, evolving with the performers as they age, reinvent themselves, get hurt, come back, fall, rise, and pivot again. If you really step back and look at it, WWE feels less like sports entertainment and more like a living comic book, except the “heroes” and “villains” have to perform their arcs live, in front of millions, with no retakes. That’s not fake. That’s art.
And maybe that’s why it never stopped being magic to me. I grew up watching these characters the same way other kids looked up to superheroes — because in many ways, that’s exactly what they were. Larger-than-life personas navigating rivalries, redemptions, betrayals, comebacks, and self-discovery in real time. They were artists who never grew up, and in their own weird way, they gave permission for people like me — creatives who also never grew up — to keep leaning into imagination and reinvention without shame.
Me and my sister at Monday Night Raw
As I’m writing this, my dog Hardy — named after Jeff Hardy, my favorite wrestler of all time — is curled up on my John Cena blanket like it’s a perfectly normal accessory for a grown adult. But that’s the thing: WWE lets you choose to be a kid again whenever you want. The format hasn’t changed much since we were young, yet the nostalgia hits harder now because it meets us with upgraded production value, innovative move sets, new technology, and performers who are redefining what “character work” can look like. Watching it now feels like reconnecting with an old friend who somehow never aged… they just leveled up.
People joke that WWE is “fake.” Nothing about the storytelling is fake. Nothing about the creativity or athleticism is fake. The outcomes might be predetermined, sure, but the feeling you get when a story lands — when someone gets their long-awaited championship opportunity, when a beloved heel turns face, when a surprise return makes an arena explode — that’s as real as storytelling gets. It’s a reminder that humans are superstars that crave narrative, spectacle, and connection, no matter how old we are.
Wrestlemania 34: Jeff Hardy - Me - Matt Hardy
WWE will always hold a place for anyone who wants to step back into a world where drama, athleticism, and imagination collide. I’ll be here, happily watching these performers create the most elaborate live theater on earth while the kid in me lights up like it’s Friday night in 2006. It’s more than spectacle; it’s a living, breathing myth that grows with you. And in those moments, you’re reminded that believing in larger-than-life heroes is still part of who you are.
