Backlash 2004: Two Classics Carry a Ruthlessly Uneven Card

Shelton Benjamin against Ric Flair is a useful opener because the match has a clear purpose and executes it without pretending to be more important than it is. Flair supplies timing, shortcuts, and veteran control while Benjamin brings the athletic bursts that make the crowd believe a younger wrestler is moving upward in real time. The work is steady rather than spectacular, and the finish with Benjamin's diving clothesline lands a little flatter than the build suggests it should. Still, the clean victory matters because it continues Benjamin's post-draft elevation against an established name without forcing a long or overcomplicated structure. At 6.6, the match sits comfortably in C-plus territory: competent, purposeful, and enjoyable enough to start the show, but nowhere near the two matches that ultimately define Backlash 2004.

Jonathan Coachman versus Tajiri is the card's clearest failure because the comedy-heeling premise never develops into a match worth the pay-per-view time it receives. Tajiri can create urgency with kicks, movement, and sudden counters, but the structure is built around Coachman surviving rather than around giving Tajiri anything compelling to do. Garrison Cade's interference produces the expected cheap finish, yet even that angle feels too slight to justify the six-minute detour. The crowd reacts to individual Tajiri bursts more than to the contest itself, and the upset does not create enough downstream value to compensate for the low wrestling quality. A 2.0 reflects a bout that is functional enough to complete its storyline but offers almost nothing as a standalone wrestling attraction.

Chris Jericho against Christian and Trish Stratus works because the handicap stipulation is really a vehicle for continuing the personal betrayal from WrestleMania XX. Christian handles most of the wrestling load, Jericho provides the pace and comeback structure, and Trish chooses her moments carefully enough that the audience remains invested in the possibility of Jericho finally getting his hands on both antagonists. The match never becomes a high-end athletic showcase, but it does not need to because the reactions come from character conflict as much as from move execution. Jericho's victory gives the story a satisfying short-term answer without fully closing the feud, and the eleven-minute length is appropriate for what the match is trying to accomplish. At 6.9, it is good television-style wrestling elevated by strong crowd investment and clear emotional stakes.

Victoria versus Lita is short, uneven, and never develops enough rhythm to feel like a championship match on a major card. Both wrestlers have moments of clean execution, but the exchanges feel tentative and the seven-minute window does not allow the match to build a convincing progression from control to comeback to finish. The inside-cradle ending is serviceable but anticlimactic, and the post-match attack by Molly Holly and Gail Kim ends up feeling more important to the division's next chapter than the title defense itself. That does not make the match disastrous, because there is still a basic competitive structure and neither performer loses control of the bout. A 4.8 keeps it in D territory: below average, forgettable, and mostly useful as connective tissue for the women's division rather than as a reason to revisit the event.

Randy Orton versus Cactus Jack is the match that turns Orton from a protected prospect into someone who can plausibly survive a defining singles fight. Foley structures the violence around escalation rather than random stunt work, so the barbed-wire bat, stage dive, and thumbtack bump all arrive after the match has already established fear, resistance, and growing desperation. Orton's willingness to take the tack bump in trunks remains the image most associated with the bout, but his selling and timing after it matter just as much because he never lets the spectacle detach from the story of a younger champion proving he can absorb Foley's world. The finish, with an RKO onto the barbed-wire bat after more than twenty-three minutes, gives Orton a decisive victory without making Cactus Jack look diminished. At 9.6, this is an A-plus career-making hardcore classic and one of the strongest examples of a veteran using his signature environment to elevate a younger wrestler.

Rosey and The Hurricane against La Resistance is a five-minute filler match that never earns enough urgency to separate itself from an ordinary television undercard segment. There is a simple babyface-versus-heel rhythm and the performers execute the basic tag transitions cleanly, but almost everything feels compressed and disposable because the bout arrives directly after the Orton-Foley war. The placement makes the contrast even harsher: the crowd has just spent significant emotional energy on one of the year's most violent matches, and this match has neither the stakes nor the pace to reset them effectively. The Hurricane's finish gives the audience a clean babyface result, but there is little memorable work on the path to it. A 3.0 reflects a competent but deeply minor match whose primary function is to occupy space before the final stretch.

Edge versus Kane is an underwhelming return match for Edge because the bout spends too much of its short runtime working around his injured hand and never finds chemistry that can make the limitation interesting. Kane controls much of the action, Edge sells the hand, and the match builds toward the cast becoming a legal-looking shortcut before the final Spear. That is a coherent story, but the pacing is sluggish and the crowd rarely treats the exchanges as important until the closing burst. The referee bump and cast shot add mechanics without adding much drama, leaving the result feeling more like a necessary first step in Edge's comeback than a satisfying pay-per-view singles match. At 4.3, it lands in D territory: understandable in context, but disappointing given the names and the significance of Edge returning.

The World Heavyweight Championship rematch succeeds because it does not simply recreate WrestleMania XX; it uses Edmonton, Shawn Michaels' hostile reception, and Benoit's first major title defense to give the same three-man structure a different emotional center. The match has the expected technical fluency and high-end near-fall sequencing, but the strongest feature is how often the crowd response becomes part of the action, especially when Michaels is targeted by chants and Benoit keeps finding ways back into control. Triple H and Michaels provide enough danger to make the championship feel unstable without overwhelming Benoit's role as champion, and the closing Sharpshooter submission gives him a second consecutive decisive victory over the two biggest Raw rivals in his orbit. Thirty minutes is long, yet the match earns most of that time because its momentum keeps changing and the arena remains fully invested. At 9.2, it is an A-level main event and a worthy sequel, even if the WrestleMania version carries the greater first-time impact.