The Judges
As the show wound down, Paul stepped out once more and climbed into the ring.
"Last time, you all heard John Michaels announce that the wrestlers for November's The Live would be chosen by combining fan popularity votes with scores from a panel of judges."
The arena fell silent in an instant. Even the commentators held their tongues.
"The weighting is six parts fan vote to four parts judges' scores. And each judge will be given three free-pass tickets."
"Which means who sits on that panel is extremely important! Am I right?"
Yes!!
Paul paused, gauging the crowd's reaction. The roar seemed to please him; the corner of his mouth curled upward as he continued.
"We've chosen judges so fair that no one can possibly object."
"First, allow me to introduce the head of the panel."
"He's run Law as general manager, he's a WWO legend in his own right, and he spent ten years wrestling for TPA."
"Come on out!"
The familiar theme blared—ba-ba-ba-bam, ba-ba-bam.
Carter Angle strode onto the stage in a sharp suit.
The crowd immediately launched into a rolling chant of "You Suck!"
Paul greeted him, handed over the microphone, and left the ring.
Carter Angle stood dead center.
"Goddamn Edge. This is all that bastard's fault."
What!
"How old am I, and I still have to hear 'You Suck' every time I walk out?!"
The arena dissolved into laughter. The commentators helpfully explained that the man who first stuck the "You Suck" chant to Carter was another legend—Edge.
"Let me introduce the second judge. He just became the oldest Intercontinental Champion in history."
"Damn it. I'm so jealous."
"Charina! You watching? Why didn't you call me? Don't you respect me?"
"You lucky bastard! Get out here already!"
That single line was all it took. Both the crowd and I knew exactly who was coming.
Mick Foley appeared, grinning, the championship belt already around his waist.
The moment he hit the ring he unhooked the belt and waved it in Carter Angle's face, showing off.
"You son of a bitch. Luck finally hit you in your old age. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Heh heh heh! Best feeling in the world! Heh heh heh!"
Third through the curtain came women's legend Karish Stratus. Fourth was another women's legend, Holly Molly.
Fifth was RBD—Rob Van Dam.
It had been a long time since RBD last appeared, and the crowd's heat only climbed higher.
Then, without any introduction, the bell tolled and every light in the building went black.
Wooooah—
When the lights came back up, the Deadman was already standing in the ring.
"This judging panel is insane."
"Absolutely incredible. How did they even put this together? Unreal."
"And I don't think the Deadman is the last one."
"A judge who outranks the Deadman? Who on earth could that be?"
"No idea. The names so far have been so massive I can't even guess."
While the commentators were still marveling, Carter Angle spoke again.
"The seventh and final judge. We had a hell of a time locking him down."
Ba-ba-ba-bam, ba-ba-ba-bam—Yoooooho. You can't see me!
Every wrestling fan on the planet knew that theme. It belonged to the Icon himself—Jack Cena, who had retired in '25.
I hadn't heard a single name on this panel beforehand, so Cena's entrance left me completely stunned.
He had clearly kept himself in shape; Jack Cena walked out looking exactly the way he had in his prime—same physique, same gear.
"Wow. This is Jack's first appearance in WWO since he retired. I never even imagined a lineup like this."
"With a panel like this, no one can complain about a single thing."
"Still, I'm a little sad we don't have Iron Cold Steven Bogus."
"Bogus is probably off hunting somewhere and just couldn't make it."
After that, each judge explained what they would be looking for most closely.
Carter Angle would focus on technique and match psychology. Holly Molly on psychology and performance. Karish on crowd reaction and showmanship. RBD on technique and high-flying.
"Me? I'm picking whoever's the most fun. Heh heh heh."
Classic Mick Foley.
"I'll be choosing the one who sends a chill down my spine."
Last to take the mic was Jack Cena.
"Heh. Am I the youngest one here? This is a weird new feeling. Feels like I'm a rookie again."
"Guess I'll just be the water boy for the veterans."
"Oh no—am I about to create a whole new meme? 'Water-Boy Jack Cena'?"
With that light-hearted closer from Jack Cena, the announcement of the most stacked judging panel in recent memory came to an end.
Having RBD and Carter Angle—both with deep TPA roots—would keep the TPA side happy. Karish and Holly Molly meant women's matches would be judged fairly. Technical wrestling, power moves, brawlers who threw hands, shooters who lived on kicks—every style was covered. And the Deadman's famous fairness from the old wrestler's court was still legendary.
Even the wrestling boards I glanced at were pure praise.
This judging panel is straight-up broken, right?
WWO and TPA just ate every scrap of attention in the industry.
Even the hardcore stuff that used to be watchable is gonna be awkward for them now.
I scrolled the boards a little longer, cast my votes for Selma, the Inquisitors, Olivia and the rest, then finally went to bed.
What do most legendary wrestlers end up doing after they hang up the boots?
Coaching? Writing for creative? Just traveling? Fishing?
There's no hard data, but a surprising number of them start podcasts and internet shows.
Edge & Christopher, Iron Cold, even Eddie Bishop—who used to run CWC—all have one.
But the podcast that regularly ranks number one or two among them is Chris Jacob's Talk is Jeico.
He'd had a few minor controversies, but never anything career-ending. His easygoing personality meant fellow wrestlers—seniors and juniors alike—were always dropping by. On top of that, the singers and actors he'd met through music and entertainment work showed up too.
In short, he was the ultimate connector of the wrestling world. Unlike most retired talent, his show wasn't limited to wrestling talk. Sports, movies, music—he covered all of it. And of course he regularly dragged in like-minded friends such as The Kane, AK Styles, and Matt Hardy to geek out about creatures and UFOs, his personal favorites.
With a range like that, it was no surprise the show sat at the top of the wrestler-podcast heap.
"We've got a special guest today. He's famous as the '5! 5! 5! Champion,' and he runs his own podcast too."
The chat window instantly flooded with "Booker K."
"You guys nailed it. Busted. Booker! Just come on out."
Booker K walked in wearing a sour expression and sat down across from him.
"That's how you introduce me? That tongue of yours must finally be getting old."
"What? That was plenty. What more do you want? Want me to play your theme? You gonna hit a Spin-A-Roonie for us?"
"Shut up. Just wait till you come on my show."
"I'll introduce you as the biggest idiot and moron in all of wrestling."
Podcasts only have a rough topic planned; there's no real script. It's raw. Booker's comeback had the chat exploding with laughter.
Jacob looked genuinely puzzled.
"Ha! Why am I a moron?"
"Because you're stuck in a place like EAW. That's why you're an idiot and a moron."
"What are you talking about? You know how many belts I held over there?"
"So what? The place looks like it's about to fold… And you never even got to meet that kid. Hell, you couldn't even get a phone call."
Jacob blinked at the sudden non sequitur. What's wrong with this guy? Did he have a drink before coming on?
"Whose phone call? Paul's? Michaels'?"
"No. Cha-ri-na!"
"Charina? Why are we talking about Charina all of a sudden?"
The mere mention of the name sent the chat into absolute freefall.
"You don't even know Charina?"
"Of course I know her. Emergency. That match was Match of the Month."
"You know she's been using your moves, right? Walls of Charina, Lionsault, even the rope choke—climbing on a guy leaning against the ropes and driving her weight into his throat."
"I saw. But everybody uses that stuff."
Most of those holds didn't require anything special, but the Lionsault took real timing and technique.
"I heard the wrestlers she loved most growing up were Mick Foley… and you."
"What?"
Jacob had never heard that before. He was genuinely shocked.
These days, almost no new talent ever named him as their favorite. Most of them picked the late Rico Guerrero, or Jack Cena, AK Styles, Sandy Orton—guys like that.
"You didn't know. That's why you're a moron."
"Tch. You made that up, didn't you? Almost had me."
"No, it's real. I heard it straight from her mouth when I met her."
"Hmm. If you hadn't been under contract with EAW, maybe that Intercontinental title would have gone to you instead."
"Complete with that polite little Eastern-style bow of hers. Hahaha!"
Jacob sat there flustered by news he'd never heard. A quick glance at the chat showed it was just as chaotic.
Our Jacob! Still not dead yet.
Jacob took a long, steadying breath and pulled himself together.
"Booker. Why didn't that story ever get out?"
"Because it was TPA, that's why. No matter how big Charina got, the company's still that size."
TPA might rank fourth or fifth on paper, but it was less than half the size of second-place EAW and a speck next to WWO. A company that small simply couldn't turn a moment like that into national news.
"Speaking of the IC title—is Mick officially recognized as champion?"
"They engraved his name on the belt."
"Nick Flair's record of fifty-six as oldest Intercontinental Champion is getting bumped to sixty-two, and he'll go down as the only guy who became champion without ever wrestling for it."
"Lucky bastard!"
"If I ever had a junior show me that kind of respect, I'd carry them on my back for the rest of my life."
It hadn't been a bloodbath, but that ring segment still got voted Match of the Week. Nostalgia, emotion, and a real lesson—all in one package.
"Took an S-kick right out of the gate. Ugh."
"Let's put the Charina talk on hold for a minute. That's not why you're here."
"Fine, whatever."
It was the topic Jacob himself was most curious about, but he had invited Booker for a different reason, so he asked.
"What wrestling fans want to know more than anything right now is what WWO is up to."
"What the hell are you people cooking?"
"I don't know."
Booker cut him off flat.
"You don't know? Did they make you sign an NDA or something?"
"No. I genuinely don't know."
"You're a commentator."
"We didn't even know Charina was going to crash Joshua and Ahmed's match. You have no idea how blindsided I was that night."
"That bad?"
"Yeah. From the vibe right now, even Triple J, Paul, and Stacey don't know the full picture. I think that's actually true."
"Then who does know? Somebody has to."
Booker took a sip of water and sat up straighter.
"John Michaels and Jane Kim each pulled one writer from their companies and they're working in secret."
"The scripts come in every day like side-pages. Even our GM, Iba, only finds out the day of."
"That's insane. What if something goes wrong?"
"It works because the pages are tailored to each promotion's and each wrestler's actual ability."
Jacob immediately reached for his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Gonna call John."
Booker clapped his hands and burst out laughing.
"Hahaha. You idiot. You think I didn't try? Phone's off. Waste of time."
Jacob had taken hit after hit from Booker since the moment the show started.
Man… today's episode is not going to be easy.
That was the only thought left in his head.