Open Letter to Tony Khan

Dear Tony Khan,

You've probably read enough open letters from wrestling fans to last a lifetime. Most of them tell you what you're doing wrong, why you'll never succeed, and how you're single-handedly ruining wrestling. And if you haven't read them... well, that would explain a few things, because the truth is right now, you're only a minor irritation in WWE's plans for global domination when you could be a major thorn in their backsides. Wrestling needs YOU to step up your game.

But before I join that parade of wrestling fans telling you what you're doing wrong, I want to take a minute to acknowledge something you're not getting enough credit for - at least not right now. Wrestling is full of people who only get their flowers later in their careers. As a kid, I couldn't stand "William Regal". His pasty complexion, those exaggerated faces and his non-flashy style were everything I didn't want in a wrestler. I wanted more Rey Mysterio and much less Regal. But now? He's one of my favorites - an absolute legend for his character work and dedication to the business.

So let's give you your dues now. But don't get a big head - I'll be cutting you down to size very shortly. The internet loves to boil your success down to a billion dollar budget, but anyone who's tried to organize a something as simple as a family barbecue knows that managing egos, logistics and expectations is no small feat - let alone doing it live on national TV every week.

AEW boasts a lot of things. You've said it's “where the best wrestle,” and while some of your patter is debatable, what's undeniable is that AEW has changed the landscape of professional wrestling. Nobody will ever take that away from you, and in time, you'll get the recognition you crave.

But let's be brutally honest with each other. Even if AEW is a resounding financial success, far exceeding what's expected from a startup only a few years old, that's not the kind of success you're after! You don't want just numbers on a spreadsheet. You want critical acclaim. You want fans on tenterhooks for the next Dynamite, buzz about your stories/superstars and less reliance on internally driven pep talks. AEW shouldn't need its own wrestlers to tell people what they've achieved - the world should already be talking about it.

And here's the kicker: it's not for lack of trying. You've opened your checkbook for the best indie talent, brought in surprise debuts, secured hard to get theme music, and experimented with creative processes. You've even made subtle changes based on fan feedback. Yet somehow, it's not quite clicking.

Meanwhile, WWE seems to have your number. A few years ago, you had them on the ropes. But now, they're countering your every move. You bring in foreign talent? They sign Guila and Vasquez. You highlight great wrestling matches? They double down on their own daredevils and technicians. It's as if no matter what you do, they're always a step ahead.

Admit it: you must be at a loss as to what else you can try? Waiting for WWE's product to go cold again and hoping for fairer coverage isn't a strategy - it's wishful thinking.

So let's talk strategy. Let’s see if we can do a little better.

First, we need to address WWE.

They're a different beast now. Far more responsive. They listen to fan reactions, pivot quickly and preach patience with their storytelling. It's hard to argue with that - after all - long-term patience has saved your bacon a few times too! But while wrestling fans are remarkably loyal, there's a breaking point. Burn them enough times and it takes monumental effort to win them back.

That's what you're experiencing now.

Are there chinks in WWE's armor? A few months ago, most would have said no. Their creative was hitting all the right notes and WrestleMania 40 was a near-flawless spectacle.

But the follow-up? It's been shaky.

Take Rhea Ripley's character, for example. The betrayal by Dominik Mysterio should have been an emotionally rich turning point - fans were expecting heartbreak, vulnerability and a chance to connect with her on a deeper level. Instead her on-screen response was defiance and little else. Sure defiance is a valid reaction to betrayal. But it's not the only one. Where was the sense of loss, isolation or self-doubt? Moments like this are opportunities to add layers to a character - to make them human and relatable.

This kind of missed opportunity isn't just disappointing - it's dangerous! Wrestling is about fooling people into caring about a staged fight. When you neglect logical follow-through or emotional depth, you're making fans feel foolish for believing in the story at all. And nobody wants to feel like a fool.

It's not just Rhea. The Bloodline's reformation felt rushed, leaving fans divided. The Netflix premiere had potential, but opinions are split. If WWE keeps misfiring, trust will erode and trust is the backbone of wrestling storytelling. Right now, it's just murmurs of discontent.

But make no mistake: WWE is a far more responsive animal today than the one you faced in 2019. Their creative misfires are likely temporary, and you can bet they'll return to their peak by WrestleMania 41.

Still, they're not invincible. The cracks are small, but they're there. And that means there's hope.

"Where the Best Wrestle"

You've tried a few things. You implanted the Coke vs. Pepsi "challenger brand" analogy into the public consciousness. You coined the rallying cry, "Where the best wrestle," positioning AEW as the antidote to WWE's theatrics and spectacle. And it wasn't just empty marketing - you backed it up by signing technical wizards like Will Ospreay, Ricochet and Jay White.

But here's the problem: "Where the best wrestle" is setting yourself up for failure.

That tagline makes every mistake, botch or clunky match a direct challenge to your credibility. It's why clips end up on /r/scjerk or why AEWBotches on X gained so much traction. Fans don't post those because they care — they post them because it's funny. You've given them a punchline at your own expense.

It's also not an effective differentiator anymore. WWE can match you flip for flip, dive for dive, and hurricarana for hurricarana. And it's not just WWE. Right now, from my couch in Thailand, I have instant access to hundreds of wrestling promotions showcasing every style imaginable. High-flying lucha? Japanese strong style? Deathmatches? It's all a click away, completely free and guess what? I'm not watching any of it!

The idea of offering a "buffet of wrestling" in 2025 isn't innovative - it's outdated. Back in 1995-96, sure, it was revolutionary to see obscure ECW tapes or catch glimpses of luchadores on TV. Today? Fans aren't starving for variety. They're drowning in it.

So How Can You Differentiate Yourself?

Offering different wrestling styles or just "pure wrestling" won't work. WWE has a roster that can counter-program anything you try. You could offer Goldberg the earth to appear on Dynamite before his rumored WrestleMania 41 match, and they'd resurrect Macho Man and put him on national TV just to one-up you. You can't win that battle.

This is David vs Goliath, no matter how much the wrestling community pretends your billions create a level playing field. So you have to think like the underdog.

But there are areas where WWE can't respond as quickly and areas you can exploit. Take their recent regime change. Kevin Dunn leaving after years of service was always going to trigger a "changing of the guard" moment. What's the natural instinct of the staff left behind? To stamp their own mark on the product, to step out of the shadows and prove they had better ideas all along. It's human nature.

Similarly, creative has locked itself into a long-term storytelling strategy. After years of Vince McMahon stifling their vision, they're determined to show the world what they're capable of. The bland, directionless product of 2019 wasn't because they lacked ideas — it was the 80-year-old billionaire-shaped glass ceiling. Now, they're committed to long-term arcs to prove their worth.

And here's the vulnerability: those long-term stories require patience.

WWE's premium live events, now hosted globally with city-funded requirements (ensuring certain stars appear) mean they can't easily pivot to shorter arcs - even if they wanted to out of spite. Meanwhile repeating the same storyline beats every week to keep casual viewers engaged creates lulls for loyal fans.

Take the New Day's recent heel turn: brilliantly executed but followed by weeks of the same incitements without progressing the story. Fans are obliging with boos because they respect Kofi and Xavier Woods. But they're doing it out of goodwill - not because they're invested in the slow burn.

Shorter stories, faster payoffs. That's where you win. It's why TikTok is dominating - you get that dopamine hit faster. People have limited free time and infinite entertainment options. You're not just competing with WWE. You're up against video games, movies, social media, dating apps, and everything else fighting for their attention.

So what's the strategy? Easy...

• Get people questioning whether patience and trust are really worth it. Remind them how often they've been let down by waiting for payoffs that never deliver.
• Every show should progress each storyline, with meaningful developments and cliffhangers that keep viewers hooked for the next episode.
• Highlight WWE's creative failings and repetitive beats. Use memes to turn their mistakes into talking points. If your billions aren't funding a marketing team that can pounce on their every misstep, then what are they funding?

You know what's interesting? This idea doesn't work because it's sneaky or clever. It works because it respects your audience's time.

Fans give you something invaluable - minutes of their lives, emotional investment in your wrestlers, and anticipation for your product. Show them you value that. Not just by saying so in scrums or soundbites.

It's not about beating WWE at their own game. It's about proving that AEW is worth their time.

Simplify the Chaos

You’ve heard the complaints: "Too many title belts", "He let Wheeler Yuta go 60 minutes with Will Ospreay," "He’s afraid to tell top talent to lose".

These aren’t just gripes from detractors - they're symptoms of a larger problem that AEW feels overwhelming to the casual viewer.

Here's what being exposed to AEW looks like for someone who isn't already invested:

What's the natural reaction to a menu like this? Do you feel overwhelmed? Instinctively, we group and classify things to make sense of them. We create mental structures to compare our options. But a menu like this puts a huge cognitive burden on the customer.

Now compare that to this:

Your vision for AEW as a competitive league where "anyone can beat anyone" with a few standout stars is great in theory. But in practice, it doesn't allow viewers to create those simple mental models. Instead, they're left struggling to interpret the logic of your booking. Is Powerhouse Hobbs an upper midcarder on the verge of a main event push, or is he just TV filler? He looks like the most dominant man on the roster, but he lost to a roll-up the other week. Where does he fit? Why is it so complicated?

Some AEW superfans argue that this complexity is a feature, not a bug. They'll say, "AEW doesn't spoon-feed its audience like WWE. It's for the ‘sickos'".

Let's not pretend that's a good argument! AEW needs to appeal to everyone, not just the die-hards. Storylines and wrestler placement on the card should be intuitive even to a first-time viewer. And it's not just about booking it's the same with the title belts. Establish a clear hierarchy. Make it obvious which titles mean the most and let fans immediately grasp where a wrestler stands in the pecking order.

You need to present AEW in a way that's easily accessible. That doesn't mean hammering moments into the ground with endless replays like WWE, but it does mean retiring the "smorgasbord of wrestling" concept. It's time to simplify the chaos.

Embrace the fact that the only character that really matters in AEW is you

Tony, let's face it: you're the most over person on your roster.

You might not be a polished performer and sure everyone from Vince Russo to random YouTubers loves to poke fun at your quirks. But regardless of what they say, your every action has impact because you control the purse strings. Something happening to you feels real. It means something. That's white hot engagement - something you can't manufacture easily.

Yes, I know the critics will scream that making the show about you is a terrible idea. Every podcaster will create an episode about why it's doomed to fail. But here's the thing: people watch when you're there. So use it. Channel that weird charisma Russo admits is riveting and make yourself a character.

You don't need to be the evil, muscle-flexing billionaire boss. Lean into the persona the internet has already crafted for you. Be the easily swayed, spineless billionaire shielded from reality. Let wrestlers vie for your ear, your favor, and your wealth. Play with the dynamic. Use the real-life heat you already have to create compelling stories that make other people stars — just like Vince did.

And speaking of stars, let's talk about creating characters people care about.

If you want fans to care about your characters, give them real motivations. Make them relatable. And most importantly, stop blowing smoke up people's asses. Take Sting, for example.

You've said you gave him the exit an icon like him deserves. Did you really?

For so many WCW fans like me, Sting was our idol. We disengaged from wrestling, came back 20 years later, and found our hero as an old man. He'd suffered a career-ending injury, and yet somehow, you miraculously brought him back. You had a captive, nostalgic audience hungry for the next chapter in Sting's story.

But instead of giving us something meaningful, you missed the beats that could have made his return unforgettable:

• Sting was still wrestling into his 60s while contemporaries like Lex Luger and Bret Hart were unable to. How do they process that? What do they say publicly versus what they think privately?
• Why did Sting come back after a retirement prognosis and at an age when most wrestlers have long hung up their boots? What made him take death-defying bumps without fear of something going wrong? There's a poignant story here about old age, legacy, and holding onto youth that fans would have loved to explore.
• Sting's Christian faith is a huge part of his life. In an era where religion is both scrutinized and misunderstood, there was an opportunity to show how faith can be tested in moments of despair - like the trials of Job and how belief in something can help in moments where you hit rock-bottom.

What we wanted was to see our hero face new challenges and tackle them with the wisdom of old age. We wanted a reflection of our own lives and struggles, something we could learn from. Sting had a chance to inspire us one last time. Did we really get that closure?

People Will Forgive Anything — Except Being Bored

Fans will forgive almost anything - drug scandals, cheaters and even outright bad ideas - so long as they're entertained. But bore them? That's the one unforgivable sin.

Boredom wastes the most valuable resource your audience has: their time. Wrestling fans are fiercely loyal, but loyalty has its limits.

Right now, AEW feels stale. To stop the slide, you need to do what every great promoter has done at some point: set aside your vision and listen to the fans.

Look at people like Jim Cornette, Eric Bischoff, or Vince Russo. These are polarizing figures with strong opinions on AEW and some fans absolutely despise them. But let's be honest - if AEW announced Vince Russo was appearing next week, would people tune in? Absolutely.

Why? Because it would create buzz. It's unexpected, controversial and subverts every assumption fans have about what AEW might do next. That's the power of intrigue - it grabs attention, ignites conversations and makes people care again.

This isn't about throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. It's about using intrigue to remind fans why they started watching in the first place. Fans crave stories that feel real but still carry the emotional weight (and tropes: face/heel) of classic wrestling. They want tension, drama and moments that make them say, "I can't believe that just happened".

It's not about bringing in any one person or making every move shocking. It's about building anticipation and rewarding fans with stories that respect their time and investment.

Because here's the truth: fans won't forgive boring. But they'll forgive almost anything else if it keeps them entertained.

I'm running out of gigabytes on my server Tony, so here's my final nugget of advice:

Wrestling fans want AEW to succeed. Even the ones who prefer WWE want you to thrive. Tribalism is part of human nature, and while people might claim they hate the back-and-forth between AEW and WWE.... deep down, they love it!

It makes life a little less boring. That's why even fans who have checked out will come running back the minute AEW has buzz again.

But buzz doesn't come from promises - it comes from delivering. Stop boring us. Respect the commitment fans make to you every week. Give us stories we can't stop talking about and moments that make us proud to be on your side.

We want to believe in the magic. Stop showing us the rabbit.