WWE said au revoir to Peacock on Sunday with its final main roster premium live event, Clash in Paris. The next time fans in the States can catch a WWE PLE will be on ESPN’s new streaming service for the bloated price of $29.99 per month.
Of course, you could take Stephanie McMahon’s advice and get a VPN to watch all WWE programming via an international Netflix feed, but that’s another story.
As for Clash in Paris, I was most looking forward to this show for one reason only.
For the first time since
January, my Tribal Chief took to singles action against that petty shoe thief, Bronson Reed. And, as far as the match went, it did not disappoint.
Less Is More
Admittedly, I’m not sure what qualifies someone as a “smart fan.” Is it knowing the fundamentals of wrestling? Keeping up with backstage rumors? Or being a walking encyclopedia like Jim Cornette?
Maybe it’s all of the above. But I’d add one more: the fan who appreciates wrestlers who do more with less — and still send the crowd into a frenzy. That’s where I fit in.
Rather than leaping into action, Reigns and Reed took their time as the fans did the heavy lifting at the opening bell. Reigns stood in the corner, grinning from ear to ear as the fans chanted everything under the sun.
At one point, they must have been saying something in French because Reigns playfully pointed at Heyman, then Reed to gauge who the crowd was taunting. Soon it became clear as a big “F-you, Bronson” chant broke out.
Obscene chants aren’t usually cute, but this one was — thanks to the crowd’s French accents, which made it hard to catch at first. WWE was slow to catch on, too, because they were late in muting the audio.
Then there was Bronson Reed — first stoic, then mean-mugging — before dishing it back. Looking Reigns dead in the eye, he slowly raised his index finger to the sky, mocking Reigns’ signature pose as the fans booed vociferously.
Once the match got underway, there was still more posing and taunting, mostly by Reed. With Reigns in trouble, he stood on his chest and talked all kinds of shit. Again, there was another strong reaction. And for what? A man standing on another man’s chest and running his yap.
Not exactly a Spanish Fly off a balcony through seven tables, but effective.
Reigns and Reed had all the trimmings of a PLE main event: engaging personas, a simple yet compelling storyline, and a pace that built momentum as it reached its climax. All the while, a hot crowd ate it up while asking for more.
Turning Wine Into Vinegar
Now, as much as I enjoyed the match, the post-match work could have used, well, some more work.
First, as Reigns celebrated his victory, he looked over at Heyman, who was in the corner tending to a fallen Reed. The cameras then cut to Heyman, who clearly seemed occupied with receiving timing and acting cues from someone off-screen.
When he finally got the green light to turn around, he came face-to-face with his old charge. For whatever reason, WWE’s cameras stayed fixed on Heyman so long that it took me out of the performance because I could see through the act — and that’s a no-no.
As for the confrontation between old friends, Reigns got his sneakers back — the ones Reed took from him. He then choked out Heyman, which felt anticlimactic in a way. A Superman Punch seemed appropriate, but given Heyman’s age and the fact he’s not an in-ring performer, it was a safe way to go out.
Reigns then took his shoes, began autographing them, and tossed them into the crowd. As he did this, Bron Breakker rolled up and speared him.
Question: Where the hell was Breakker when Reed was getting stuffed with a spear or when Heyman was having the life squeezed out of him? I get the purpose of his timing. But in trying to present something that feels authentic, he should have shown up sooner than he did.
Speaking of timing, dear God almighty, did that post-match beatdown last forever. No, seriously. Reigns’ shellacking lasted long enough to thaw a frozen Thanksgiving turkey.
It. Just. Wouldn’t. End.
And when it finally did, we were almost an hour into the show.
Yes, you read that correctly. The opening match took up nearly the entire first hour of Clash.
Now, I’m all for giving the fans their money’s worth. However, an issue I have with modern wrestling is that every match is given time to “steal the show.” While that’s great, I feel it takes something from the actual main event, which is often the fans’ energy.
By the time we got to the Fatal 4-Way, it seemed like the fans died out after they sang CM Punk and Seth Rollins to the ring. There was a moment when Punk tried to reenact the Dudleys’ “Get the table” routine, only to be met with silence.
Shortening the post-match drubbing in the opener would have been the way to go. If the goal was to write Reigns off permanently, sure — it works. But as a temporary injury angle? Way overcooked.
Still, as matches go, Reigns and Reed delivered. As an ardent supporter of Reigns, I felt fulfilled watching the match. As an observer taking in a performance, I appreciated the effort, especially from Reed. He played with the fans instead of just relying on big moves for excitement.
If your rooting interest was like mine, you had a reason to rejoice when the match was over — if only for a little while. Everyone has their own idea of what makes great pro wrestling, and for me, this was the kind of action that fits the bill.
Final bell: An opening match that could have closed any show, with a post-match scene that seemingly lasted as long as any show. Still, the match itself? C’est magnifique!
