Judgment Day 2004: One Violent Main Event Cannot Rescue a Hollow Card

Rey Mysterio and Rob Van Dam against the Dudley Boyz is the one undercard match that feels fully at home on pay-per-view. The early heel control drags in places, but Mysterio and Van Dam repeatedly inject speed, invention, and crowd energy whenever the match threatens to settle. The closing stretch works especially well because the Dudleys' familiar power spots create clean targets for the babyfaces' aerial counters, including the double 619 and Five Star Frog Splash finish. It is not a hidden classic, and the middle portion is more methodical than the performers' reputations suggest, yet the match builds toward a satisfying final run instead of simply filling time. At 6.8, the opener earns a C-plus by giving the show a credible wrestling foundation and a hot finish that almost none of the later undercard bouts can match.

Torrie Wilson against Dawn Marie is built around a career-threat stipulation and character work rather than credible wrestling drama, and the bell-to-bell portion never escapes that limitation. The exchanges are loose, the transitions are basic, and the crowd reacts more to the personalities and presentation than to anything happening between the ropes. A few rollups and short comeback spots give the match a recognizable structure, but there is little escalation before the backslide finish arrives. The stipulation is supposed to create urgency, yet the wrestling is not convincing enough to make Torrie's job feel truly endangered. At 2.3, this is an F-level match that serves the ongoing television angle but offers almost nothing that would justify revisiting it as pay-per-view wrestling.

Mordecai against Scotty 2 Hotty is effectively a pay-per-view squash designed to introduce a new character, and it never becomes more than that. Mordecai controls almost everything with simple strikes, chokes, and power offense while Scotty receives only a brief burst before the crucifix powerbomb ends the match. A debut can be short and still feel purposeful, but this one does not reveal enough about Mordecai's offense, personality, or ceiling to justify occupying a main-card slot. The elaborate entrance has more presence than the wrestling itself, and the crowd never develops a reason to invest in the outcome. At 2.1, the match lands deep in F territory because it functions like a television showcase without the urgency or substance expected from a major event.

Charlie Haas and Rico against Billy Gunn and Hardcore Holly has a few useful ideas, particularly the contrast between Haas's straight wrestling and Rico's comedy, but the match struggles to create sustained interest. Gunn and Holly spend long stretches controlling Haas without generating much heat, and the crowd rarely treats the championship as if it is in meaningful danger. Rico's tags provide brief personality spikes, while the final blind-tag sequence and superkick into the sunset-flip pin at least give the finish some coordination. Even so, the match feels assembled from competent pieces rather than driven by a strong rivalry or compelling rhythm. A 3.8 reflects work that is functional enough to avoid complete collapse but too flat, too heatless, and too disposable to reach even D-level pay-per-view quality.

Chavo Guerrero against Jacqueline turns the Cruiserweight Championship into a comedy-heavy handicap stipulation, and the result does little for either the title or the performers. Chavo working with one arm tied behind his back creates a clear gimmick, but the match spends more time on interference and loopholes than on building competitive tension. Jacqueline's offense never feels dangerous enough to threaten a decisive win, while Chavo Classic's involvement leads directly to the predictable escape from the stipulation. The Gory Bomb finish restores Chavo as champion, yet the route there makes the division feel smaller rather than more important. At 2.8, this is an F-level championship match whose booking premise overwhelms the wrestling and whose short runtime prevents the performers from finding a more convincing second gear.

John Cena against René Duprée is a straightforward midcard title defense that benefits from Cena's rapidly growing connection with the audience. Duprée works the champion over with basic power offense and extended holds, but the match becomes livelier whenever Cena begins moving forward and the crowd senses the comeback. Several counters in the final minutes, including Duprée escaping the FU before Cena catches him on a later attempt, give the bout more shape than most of the middle card receives. The pacing is still uneven and Duprée's control segments are not especially dynamic, so the match never threatens to become a standout. At 6.0, it reaches a clean C because the crowd investment, clear championship stakes, and competent closing sequence make it respectable without overstating the actual wrestling.

The Undertaker against Booker T is a star-driven match whose outcome feels almost completely predetermined, which limits the drama before the opening lockup. Booker gets enough offense to avoid a pure squash and spends time attacking Undertaker's leg, but the supernatural dirt angle does not add credible danger because Undertaker simply shrugs it off. The crowd remains engaged with Undertaker's signature offense and return to the Deadman presentation, yet the match itself is built more around recognition than competitive escalation. Booker's axe kick and brief near-falls never convince the audience that an upset is close, and the Tombstone finish arrives exactly where expected. A 5.0 D-plus acknowledges competent execution and strong star presence while recognizing that the wrestling is too predictable and too thin to become genuinely compelling.

Eddie Guerrero against John Bradshaw Layfield is the only match on Judgment Day 2004 that feels like a true main-event fight, and its intensity rises dramatically once Guerrero is busted open. The early brawling establishes Eddie's anger and JBL's size advantage, but the chair shot and catastrophic blood loss transform the match into something visceral and uncomfortable that the crowd treats with immediate urgency. Guerrero's selling, comeback, and refusal to stay down give JBL credibility as a challenger even though the eventual disqualification finish undercuts the satisfaction of the climax. The work is not technically pristine, and the amount of blood is impossible to separate from the match's reputation, but the emotional escalation and audience response are undeniable. At 8.7, it earns an A-minus as a memorable, fiercely committed championship brawl whose flawed finish keeps it below the truly elite tier.