I love professional wrestling. I can’t think of a better weekend than sitting down to watch every surprise entrance, match interference, or betrayal that this month’s premium live event has to offer. When I mention this fact to friends, I am used to an onslaught of remarks about how professional wrestling is fake, scripted, and that it’s dumb that I care about them. To which I will always make a snarky comment about how most of the entertainment that they consume is scripted fiction as well, and that me watching John Cena win his seventeenth world championship title is just as “fake” as them watching Dune 2 or The Sopranos. 

The more I think about this idea though the more I realize that I’m off-base with my remarks, because these two mediums of fiction are drastically different. Unlike scripted television or movies, where the audience always knows they are watching actors play roles, wrestling blurs the line between performance and sport. Kayfabe is the shared agreement between wrestlers and fans to treat the events inside the ring as authentic, even when everyone knows there’s a script guiding the outcome. That illusion allows fans to boo villains, cheer heroes, and feel as though they’re participating in something unpredictable and alive. In other words, while The Sopranos asks you to suspend disbelief and accept a fictional world, wrestling asks you to suspend disbelief inside the real world you already live in. 

This sense of altered reality is one of the things I love most about professional wrestling. The matches, the rivalries, and the storylines are all part of the show, but the moments that stick with me are the ones when the illusion falters. When kayfabe fades, the barrier between performance and reality drops, and you’re reminded that behind every character is a human being with real emotion. It’s the difference between watching a story unfold and feeling it unfold. Those rare moments are when wrestling becomes something extraordinary, something that can move an audience in ways that a perfectly executed storyline never could. It’s in those instances, when the characters give way to the people underneath, that wrestling transcends the spectacle and becomes unforgettable.

On the night of November 11th, 2012, during a championship match between CM Punk, John Cena, and Ryback, three brutes dressed in all black military wear pounced the ring, viciously attacking Ryback, leaving him sprawled out over the destroyed announcers table, giving CM Punk the opportunity to pin Cena, winning the championship belt. This mercenary-esque faction, composed of up-and-coming members of NXT, the developmental branch of the WWE, were known as The Shield. Known for being disruptors of the industry, fighting back against the injustice in the current division, Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns dominated the WWE for the next two years, winning countless tag team matches, championships, and the admiration of the fanbase. That all came to a halt in 2014 when Seth Rollins betrayed his fellow teammates, leaving The Shield and it ultimately dissolving. Being already well established wrestlers, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose were able to take the transition to a solo career in stride becoming very successful in their own right. However, because Roman had only started wrestling a few years prior to joining The Shield, he did not have a refined enough character he could fall back on after the separation. Coupled with the fact that the WWE leadership, both the actual organization and the characters playing them in the show, were attempting to push him as the new face of the company, Roman became one of the most hated names in the industry. People felt like his character was hollow and was forcing a narrative that didn’t fit his technical abilities in the ring or on the mic. To the anger of fans, Roman would hold both the Undisputed WWE Championship and the Universal Championship multiple times over the next few years, each time leading to swarms of fans outraged at the fact. His push to the top felt less like an organic rise and more like a corporate mandate, and the louder the company insisted he was “the guy,” the louder the audience rejected him.

Everything would change on October 22nd of 2018, when Roman Reigns appeared on an episode of Raw, holding his Universal Championship, still surrounded by the crowd of boos that followed him everywhere he went when he gave a now infamous speech. “I feel I owe everyone an apology. For months I’ve come out here and I’ve spoken as Roman Reigns, said a lot of things… I said I was going to be a fighting champion, I was going to be a work horse, but that’s all lies… The reality is my real name is Joe and I’ve been living with leukemia for 11 years and unfortunately it’s back. And because my leukemia is back, I cannot fulfill that role, I can’t be that champion and I’m going to have to relinquish the Universal Championship.” It’s not uncommon for wrestlers to openly talk about injuries they get or reasons they have to step back from the WWE. Earlier that year Seth Rollins had to leave to recover from a torn ACL. This year, both Kevin Owens and Naomi have given big speeches about leaving, Kevin for a neck injury and Naomi because she was pregnant. But in every other instance of this occurring the facade of kayfabe is always continued. Wrestlers are always using their fake names, they tie it into a current feud they’re a part of, and promise to be back to finally win that title they’ve always wanted. Joe’s speech was different. Joe made the decision to pull the fans out of the altered reality by stripping away the character entirely and speaking as himself. In that moment, the line between performance and reality vanished, and the audience wasn’t reacting to Roman Reigns the character, they were reacting to Joe, a human being facing a life-altering struggle. It was a rare moment in wrestling where the suspension of disbelief was intentionally broken, making the emotional impact far deeper than any scripted victory or defeat could achieve. As Roman laid down his Universal Championship in the center of the ring, relinquishing it so he could begin his next battle, the crowd began to chant something he had never heard in his entire career, “Thank you Roman,” and as he was walking out Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose would meet him on stage, embrace him in a tearful hug, and give the Shield sign one final time. Roman would end up announcing he had gone into remission in February of the next year and make his in-ring return at Summer Slam 2020, going on to become one of the longest reigning Undisputed WWE Champions, this time with the love and admiration of the fanbase behind him. 

Being the son of the most famous lucha libre wrestler of all time, Rey Mysterio, Dominick Mysterio’s life has been wrapped in kayfabe. Making his first appearance at SummerSlam 2005 during the “Custody of Dominick Ladder Match” between his father and Eddie Guerrero, who claimed that Dominick was actually his biological son, and wanted custody. Throughout this brutal match, the camera pans to footage of eight-year-old Dominick standing in the crowd looking on in horror at the possibility that he will be taken away from his father. Guerrero nearly wins this match, climbing all the way to the top of the ladder before Dominick climbs into the ring and attempts to push him over. He is unsuccessful in this, but it does give Rey the opportunity to get back in the ring and ambush Guerrero, ultimately winning the match. Dominick would be seen sporadically throughout the rest of his childhood, until 2019 when he would make his WWE debut in a tag team duo with his father. These two would go on to have a long run together as a team, winning the Tag Team Championship in 2021. 

During the summer of 2022, Dominick and Rey began a feud with the heel faction known as The Judgement Day for their attempts to recruit Dominick. They seemed to be unsuccessful, losing the Tag Team Championship to the Mysterios at Summer Slam, but after accidentally being speared by another wrestler, Edge, Dominick decided to the betrey the two, attacking them at Clash at the Castle and becoming the newest member of The Judgement Day. Now known as “Dirty” Dom, he quickly became one of WWE’s most hated heels. Unlike many wrestlers who drop the act outside the ring, Dom stayed in character during interviews, podcasts, and social media appearances. That commitment was clearest during the 2023 Hall of Fame ceremony, when he walked out of his own father’s induction speech, turning what should have been a heartfelt moment into pure storyline.

Earlier this year, WrestleMania 41 occurred, and one of the biggest matches of the weekend was the fatal four-way match for the Intercontinental Championship between Dominik, Bron Breaker, Penta, and Finn Balor. After pinning his fellow Judgement Day member, Finn Balor, Dom came out as champion. The original plan for this moment was simple. Dom would win, make a short celebration to a crowd of boos, and then run out of the ring as fast as possible, similar to what the heel tag team champions The New Day did the night prior. What actually occurred was an eruption of cheers from the crowd, ecstatic to see Dom come out victorious, to the point that after walking backstage, he was told to go back out for another victory lap because the fans still hadn’t stopped celebrating yet. The same man who walked out onto the sound of sixty thousand people booing his name just thirty minutes prior was being celebrated by fans and haters alike. Nothing had particularly changed about the character of Dirty Dom in this victory, he was still the same heel he was before. But in that moment, the fans weren’t reacting to the character, they were reacting to the journey. From the kid in the crowd during the “Custody of Dominick” match, to the rookie who struggled to find his footing, to the villain who lived in his father’s shadow, every chapter led to this. Who came out for that second time wasn’t Dirty Dom, the heel that we loved to hate, it was the man whose whole life revolved around that ring, who had risen to the level of the legacy that came before him, finally being given the flowers that he had earned. What made this moment so powerful was that the veil of kayfabe briefly dropped. For once, fans weren’t reacting to a character or a storyline, they were reacting to Dominik himself. The cheers weren’t scripted, they weren’t manufactured; they were real, and that realness is what made the moment unforgettable.

I don’t like the argument that pro-wrestling is fake. Yes, obviously the stories that are portrayed inside of the ring are scripted, characters manufactured, and hits oversold. But calling it fake feels like a disservice to me. It undercuts all of the hard work that the performers go through on a weekly basis to put on an entertaining show. More than that, it misses the moments when wrestling transcends the scripted spectacle and becomes something undeniably real. Roman Reigns’ Raw speech, when he revealed himself as Joe battling leukemia, and Dominik Mysterio’s second victory lap at WrestleMania 41, are perfect examples. In those moments, the performers stopped acting as characters and started being human beings with real stories, real stakes, and real emotions. The fans weren’t cheering a heel or booing a hero, they were reacting to people who had lived, struggled, and earned their place inside that squared circle. It is precisely in those moments, when kayfabe fades, that wrestling becomes something extraordinary. Yes, wrestling is fake, but it’s also the realest thing I’ve ever seen.