WrestleMania 23 (2007): An Ode to the Night WWE Grew Up in Detroit

Eight wrestlers should make a ladder match feel crowded, but this opener mostly turns the extra bodies into controlled mayhem. The Hardys give the match its unforgettable image when Jeff dives from a tall ladder onto Edge through another ladder at ringside, while Randy Orton's ladder-assisted RKO sequence keeps the violence escalating without losing the audience. CM Punk and Mr. Kennedy provide the closing struggle, which matters because the finish is not merely a stunt. Kennedy knocks Punk away and wins by solving the final problem himself. The match is reckless, creative, and paced like an opener that knows twenty minutes of stadium adrenaline can buy goodwill for everything that follows.

The Great Khali and Kane are asked to recreate a sliver of WrestleMania III mythology, and the match never becomes much more than that assignment. Kane's body slam earns the expected reaction because the broadcast explicitly wants the audience thinking about Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant twenty years earlier. Everything around the slam is labored. Strikes look awkward, transitions are slow, and Khali's limited movement leaves Kane with almost no path toward building dramatic momentum. The short runtime is the match's best structural decision. Khali wins decisively and continues his push, but as a WrestleMania match this is a thin nostalgia exercise attached to a poor wrestling performance.

Montel Vontavious Porter gets the most important thing a rising challenger can receive in defeat: proof that he belongs in the same match as the established champion. MVP attacks the arm, counters suplex attempts, and wrestles with enough composure that the match feels competitive rather than instructional. Chris Benoit answers with the expected precision and eventually wins with the diving headbutt after a run of German suplexes. The problem is time. Just as the match establishes an interesting technical rhythm, it reaches the finish, leaving the better chapters of their rivalry for later pay-per-views. This is good wrestling and useful character advancement, but it feels like the beginning of a stronger match rather than the final form.

Batista and The Undertaker wrestle like two men offended by the idea that a heavyweight title match needs twenty-five minutes to feel epic. Batista explodes at the bell, The Undertaker answers with speed that should not belong to a man his size, and the match keeps finding bigger collisions without becoming a finishing-move exhibition. The table crash, Batista Bomb near fall, Last Ride, and Tombstone all arrive after the wrestlers have established a simple question: can Batista overpower The Streak before Undertaker's endurance takes over? He cannot. Undertaker wins the World Heavyweight Championship, and the compact runtime becomes a virtue. This is muscular, urgent WrestleMania wrestling with almost no wasted motion.

The ECW Originals and the New Breed arrive with a story that should feel like a referendum on the revived brand, but WrestleMania gives them barely enough time to sketch the argument. Rob Van Dam, Sabu, Tommy Dreamer, and The Sandman receive the nostalgic reaction, while Elijah Burke, Marcus Cor Von, Matt Striker, and Kevin Thorn work as the younger faction trying to displace them. The match is functional when the New Breed isolates Dreamer and energetic once the Originals cycle through their signature offense. What it never becomes is uniquely ECW. There is no stipulation or sustained chaos to separate it from an ordinary television tag. Van Dam's Frog Splash ends a decent match that needed more identity.

As a pure match, Bobby Lashley against Umaga is solid rather than special. As WrestleMania theater, it is exactly the kind of nonsense that a giant stadium can make irresistible. Lashley and Umaga provide a sturdy power-match base while Vince McMahon, Donald Trump, Shane McMahon, and special guest referee Stone Cold Steve Austin keep adding complications around them. Austin's timing is the essential ingredient because every comeback, argument, and Stunner restores wrestling logic to a celebrity-driven angle. Lashley eventually wins, McMahon gets his head shaved, and the stadium receives the cathartic payoff the promotion promised for weeks. The rating stops short of the match's cultural footprint, but the segment succeeds emphatically at its actual job.

Melina and Ashley are given barely enough time to have a championship match, which makes the larger problem impossible to miss. Melina is capable of carrying more structure, but Ashley is still inexperienced and the bout is laid out as a quick attraction surrounded by wrestlers at ringside rather than a serious title showcase. The action is tentative, several exchanges lack crispness, and the finish arrives before any meaningful dramatic arc forms. The post-match brawl creates more energy than the match itself. Short matches can be efficient when they are designed around a sharp idea; this one simply feels abbreviated. On a card built to demonstrate how much WrestleMania had grown, the women's division is treated as an afterthought.

John Cena and Shawn Michaels close WrestleMania 23 by trusting star power, pacing, and a divided crowd more than stunt escalation. Michaels controls the early match by attacking Cena's knee and forcing the champion into a slower contest, then the pace expands as Cena survives the veteran's counters and starts landing his bigger offense. Michaels brings the timing that makes every near fall feel plausible, while Cena's refusal to disappear under the pressure gives the match its central tension. The leg work loses some value when Cena stops selling it consistently, which keeps the bout from the absolute top shelf. Even so, the final stretch is excellent, and Cena forcing Michaels to submit gives the champion another emphatic WrestleMania ending.