I’m more or less a lapsed WWE fan these days. Between the roster cuts and rise of AEW, I hardly watch pro wrestling’s standard bearer.
But there’s one event I watch no matter what each year: the Royal Rumble.
The kickoff to Wrestlemania season is a welcome respite from an avalanche of playoff football. The addition of a women’s Rumble gives us two hour-long marquee events in one night that intertwine wrestling, nostalgia, and in the pure poetry of former champion Big E, “big meaty men slappin’ meat.”
