SummerSlam 2005: Shawn Michaels Makes Hogan Look Immortal and Rey Mysterio Climbs for His Family

The opening match is really a punch line with a championship attached. Jordan tries to start aggressively, throws one punch in the corner, and immediately gets caught by a German suplex and the Crossface. He submits in roughly twenty-five seconds, ending a title reign that had already lost momentum. There is almost nothing to evaluate as a conventional match because the entire point is the speed of the humiliation. Benoit looks dangerous, the crowd gets an immediate title change, and WWE creates a hook for the rematches that will become even shorter. As pay-per-view wrestling, the segment is barely there. As a reset for the championship, it is efficient and memorable in a way a ten-minute average match would not have been.

The audience expects a fight because WWE has spent weeks turning genuine personal betrayal into wrestling television, and the opening minutes deliver that urgency. Hardy attacks Edge immediately, they spill outside, and every strike feels rougher than the usual polished pay-per-view exchange. The match changes when Hardy's head hits the ring post and he begins bleeding heavily. Edge targets the wound with repeated punches until the referee decides Hardy cannot intelligently defend himself and stops the match. The finish makes sense from a safety perspective, but it leaves the crowd without the catharsis the feud had promised. Four minutes of violence becomes an angle for later matches rather than a satisfying SummerSlam payoff. Historically important, yes. Emotionally complete, no.

The stipulation is absurd, but Mysterio and Guerrero wrestle with such conviction that the match repeatedly outruns the story around it. Eddie uses the ladder as a weapon with increasing cruelty, including a powerbomb from the ladder and an Alley Oop that sends Rey onto another ladder balanced across the ropes. Rey answers with speed, springboards, and desperate climbs, while Dominik's ringside presence keeps the emotional stakes visible. The finish is messier than the body of the match. Vickie Guerrero runs down, shoves Eddie's ladder over, and restrains him long enough for Rey to retrieve the custody papers. The interference prevents a perfect ending, but the twenty minutes before it are dramatic, physical, and deeply tied to years of chemistry between them.

Angle approaches the match like an insult he intends to erase quickly, which gives the short runtime more purpose than the pairing itself deserves. Eugene mimics famous offense, including the People's Elbow, Rock Bottom, Stone Cold Stunner, and even Angle's own Ankle Lock. Angle responds by becoming increasingly serious, using German suplexes and the Angle Slam before forcing the submission with the Ankle Lock. The crowd understands the comedy, but the match never feels worthy of Angle on a SummerSlam card. Four and a half minutes keeps it from overstaying its welcome, and the post-match medal ceremony completes the storyline cleanly. Still, the segment functions more as a correction to a television angle than as a meaningful pay-per-view contest.

Orton and Undertaker build a patient sequel to WrestleMania by making Orton's confidence the central question. Undertaker controls the early power exchanges and punishes Orton around ringside, while Orton spends the middle targeting the knee and looking for ways to turn Undertaker's predictable sequences against him. Several counters are excellent, particularly Orton escaping the Tombstone into the backbreaker and Undertaker rolling through a crossbody into a chokeslam. The finish keeps the feud alive without a clean miracle. A supposed fan enters the ring, distracts Undertaker, and allows Orton to land the RKO for the pin. The intruder is revealed as Bob Orton. The interference costs the match some satisfaction, but seventeen minutes of solid rivalry wrestling makes the continuation feel earned.

Cena and Jericho produce the first major hint of the audience dynamic that will follow Cena for years. Children and many casual fans are loudly behind the champion, while a significant portion of the building increasingly supports Jericho as the match develops. Jericho attacks Cena's back, counters the FU into a DDT, and turns the Walls of Jericho into the match's most convincing threat. Cena's offense remains simpler, but the contrast works because every comeback triggers another wave of competing reactions. The finishing sequence is clean: Jericho tries to continue pressing after a top-rope exchange, Cena catches him, and the FU ends it. The match is not spectacular, but the atmosphere gives a straightforward title defense an importance that grows in hindsight.

Batista and JBL finally get the stipulation their feud needs, replacing the Great American Bash disqualification with a compact fight that cannot end on a technicality. JBL attacks during the entrance and immediately drags the match into weapons, ringside brawling, and use of the leather belt. Batista responds with the power spots the audience actually wants to see, including a spear through the barricade and repeated shots with the belt. JBL lands the Clothesline From Hell for a strong near fall before introducing the steel steps. That decision backfires. Batista survives, hits a spinebuster, and delivers two Batista Bombs, with the second onto the steps. Nine minutes is exactly enough. It is not a classic, but it finally gives Batista the decisive victory this rivalry required.

The main event is half dream match and half visible argument between two legends, which is precisely why it remains fascinating. Hogan works the familiar power-and-comeback formula while Michaels responds by bumping with almost cartoonish exaggeration, flying across the ring from ordinary punches and turning every Hogan attack into theater. Once Hogan bleeds, the match becomes more conventional. Michaels works the cut, uses a sleeper, lands the elbow and Sweet Chin Music, and gets the expected near fall before Hogan hulks up. The big boot and leg drop finish the match cleanly. The handshake afterward restores the advertised respect, but Michaels' performance ensures the subtext never disappears. It is good wrestling, excellent spectacle, and one of the strangest great-star performances of the era.