SummerSlam 2015: Great Wrestling, Two Awful Endings, and a Four-Hour Identity Crisis

Sheamus and Randy Orton open with the kind of dependable veteran match that knows exactly what it is. The pace is measured, the strikes are snug, and both men lean on familiar counters without pretending the opener needs to reinvent anything. Orton's timing gives the middle stretch some snap, while Sheamus works with enough urgency to keep the match from sinking into house-show autopilot. The finish, built around Sheamus surviving one RKO attempt and landing consecutive Brogue Kicks, gives him a meaningful win. It is not a classic, but it is sturdy, physical, and appropriately placed.

This is the first match where SummerSlam starts grinning. The four-team format keeps bodies moving, Kalisto supplies the electricity, Titus O'Neil gets his power bursts, and New Day are already discovering how much personality they can pour into every second. The structure occasionally becomes traffic, but the chaos mostly works because each team has a clear function and the crowd responds to the accelerating pace. Big E yanking Titus out after the Clash of the Titus lets Kofi steal the pin and the titles without flattening the champions. The result matters even more in hindsight because New Day's next reign becomes historically enormous.

Dolph Ziggler and Rusev can wrestle a perfectly respectable match, and for stretches they do exactly that. Rusev's power gives Ziggler something substantial to bounce off, while Ziggler's speed and selling keep the action lively enough. The problem is everything orbiting the match. Lana and Summer Rae are positioned as constant story engines, so the wrestling repeatedly feels secondary to a soap-opera feud that already has too many moving parts. The double countout protects both men but provides no satisfying endpoint, especially on a show this long. Competent execution cannot fully compensate for a finish designed almost entirely to keep the angle going.

Celebrity matches usually begin with the audience waiting to see what the guest cannot do. Stephen Amell flips that equation by looking prepared, athletic, and willing to take part in an actual wrestling match. WWE wisely surrounds him with Neville, Stardust, and King Barrett, so the professionals control the structure while Amell gets focused bursts that play to his strengths. His dive to the floor is the obvious crowd-pleaser, but the more important success is that nothing feels disastrously exposed. Neville's Red Arrow gives the match the proper wrestling finish. It is compact, energetic, and much better than the stunt-casting premise had any right to promise.

The Intercontinental Championship triple threat is over before it can become especially good or especially bad. Big Show supplies the size, Miz does the opportunist routine, and Ryback provides the bursts of speed and power, but the match never develops enough connective tissue to feel important. The short runtime helps because the formula would have worn thin quickly, yet it also makes the title defense feel like a scheduling obligation. Ryback stealing the pin on Miz after Big Show's knockout punch is sensible champion behavior, though it does little to elevate the rivalry. Nothing collapses. Nothing lingers either, which is a problem on a card already overflowing with matches.

Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, Bray Wyatt, and Luke Harper understand each other's rhythms by this point, and that familiarity gives the match an easy physical confidence. Harper provides the most interesting transitions, Ambrose keeps the tempo unruly, and Reigns gets the explosive power sequences designed for the biggest reactions. The match does not reach the violence the feud sometimes promises, but it is consistently engaging and avoids a gimmicky finish. Ambrose's Dirty Deeds into Reigns' spear gives the babyfaces a decisive win. More important, the match leaves enough tension for Braun Strowman's arrival the next night to feel like an escalation rather than a repair job.

Seth Rollins and John Cena wrestle the match SummerSlam 2015 needed: fast, ambitious, and built around two champions trying to prove the other man's belt belongs beneath theirs. Rollins is spectacular without becoming weightless, matching Cena's power with counters, speed, and a willingness to steal his opponent's offense. Cena keeps the exchanges grounded and makes the near falls matter. Then Jon Stewart arrives with a chair. The interference gives Rollins a memorable double-champion image, but it also steals the finish from two wrestlers who had already earned a decisive ending on their own. The match remains excellent; the booking keeps it from becoming transcendent.

The three-team elimination match is historically interesting and structurally crowded. WWE has nine women, a heavily promoted roster movement, and fifteen minutes to convince viewers that the division is changing, yet the format spends too much time sorting bodies instead of establishing individual rivalries. Sasha Banks, Charlotte, Becky Lynch, and Paige provide obvious flashes of a stronger future, while Nikki Bella carries herself like the established champion she is. The eliminations are logical enough, and Becky scoring the final pin gives PCB the win without overcomplicating the result. Still, the match feels more like a launch presentation for several stories than a fully formed story of its own.

Kevin Owens and Cesaro work like two men offended by the idea that they are not higher on the card. Cesaro's strength creates the spectacular base, Owens adds sudden bursts of violence, and both are comfortable moving from athletic sequences into meaner exchanges without losing coherence. The crowd responds because the match feels competitive rather than ornamental. Cesaro gets enough offense to look dangerous, while Owens' Pop-up Powerbomb gives the winner a decisive finish and preserves his upward trajectory. There is no celebrity cameo, no officiating trick, and no desperate twist. On this particular SummerSlam, that simplicity feels almost luxurious. It is one of the easiest matches on the show to recommend.

Brock Lesnar and The Undertaker deliver a bruising, dramatic main event until WWE decides the match needs an escape hatch. Lesnar's suplexes feel violent, Undertaker's comebacks have genuine desperation, and the repeated finishers create the sense of two damaged legends trying to outlast each other rather than produce a pretty match. Then Undertaker taps outside the referee's view, the timekeeper rings the bell, the match continues, Undertaker lands a low blow, and Lesnar passes out in Hell's Gate. The sequence protects Lesnar and gets Undertaker a win, but it makes officiating confusion the protagonist. Great physical work survives the finish, yet the finish permanently defines the match.