The Death of the WWF
Foreword
In the industry of professional wrestling, there are few absolutes: the “hot tag,” Bret Hart’s unwavering popularity in Canada, and Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation.
For over a decade, McMahon’s WWF had been the undisputed leader of pro wrestling, with Vince himself as the mastermind behind the 1980s “Rock & Wrestling” era that revolutionised the sport, transforming it from a regional attraction into a global spectacle. Whilst Hulk Hogan and WrestleMania may have been the perfect pairing, it was Vince McMahon who was the architect of it all. He built a wrestling juggernaut—a global powerhouse that dismantled the territory system and created a new frontier that changed the business forever.
Where the 1980s were rich with success, the 1990s were a turbulent time for the WWF. McMahon found himself embroiled in a steroid scandal, struggling with a shifting audience, the decline of Hulkamania, and the loss of top talent to rival promotion World Championship Wrestling. WCW had spent years trying to carve out an identity after Ted Turner purchased Jim Crockett Promotions in 1988. Run by committees and executives with little understanding of the wrestling business, WCW became known for inconsistent booking, political infighting, and an inability to fully capitalise on its vast resources. The promotion had talent, a major television presence on TBS, and a dedicated fanbase in the Southeast—but it lacked a true vision. That all changed when Eric Bischoff took the reins in 1993.
Bischoff wasted no time modernising WCW, recognising that to compete with the WWF, it needed to feel bigger, fresher, and more unpredictable. He convinced Turner to give him a primetime slot on Monday nights, launching WCW Monday Nitro in 1995 to directly compete with Monday Night Raw. More importantly, he weaponised Turner’s cheque book, aggressively poaching some of the WWF’s biggest stars. Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, and Bobby Heenan were among the first major names to jump ship, but the biggest blow came in 1996 when Scott Hall and Kevin Nash—known to WWF fans as Razor Ramon and Diesel—arrived on Nitro, blurring the lines between reality and fiction and planting the seeds of what would become the Attitude Era.
Almost overnight, McMahon’s long-standing monopoly had a real competitor. WCW wasn’t just another promotion—it was a machine built to topple the WWF, using Vince’s own former stars against him. Once again, McMahon was no longer the only show in town. And for one final time, he was at war.
Except there was one final, crushing blow to be struck—one from which Vince McMahon would never recover. In May of 1996, at Madison Square Garden, a single moment set in motion what would become known as The Death of the WWF—a moment that would see Vince McMahon do the impossible and walk away from the company, and the industry, he built. That moment? The Curtain Call.
Scott Hall and Kevin Nash had little to lose—it was their last match with the company before leaving for WCW—and Shawn Michaels was the WWF Champion and its biggest draw. That meant the brunt of the consequences landed at the feet of one Hunter Hearst Helmsley. In a different time, Triple H might have just been jobbed out for a while as punishment. Instead, he and Shawn were chewed out in front of the entire locker room, and within a month, Hunter found a different calling in life. Shawn, however, returned to television almost immediately, but something wasn’t right. It would be wrong to say he lost his smile, but his ego couldn’t bear that humiliation in front of the boys. He protested by no-showing a handful of house shows. People close to Vince said he almost expected this reaction from Shawn—but what he didn’t expect was the double whammy that came during In Your House: Beware of Dog.
Word filtered through in the early afternoon that nobody had seen or heard from Shawn, and he wasn’t returning calls. A few hours later, another update arrived: Shawn Michaels would not be arriving as he had signed with WCW. Vince was shell shocked. His WWF Champion. His top star. A man he considered a son. The man he intended to build the future of the company around. He was gone—joining Hall and Nash in WCW. Three days later, Vince McMahon announced his departure from the WWF indefinitely. He would not return. Weeks later, at Bash at the Beach, Shawn Michaels appeared as the third man, reuniting The Kliq and kicking off the biggest boom period in wrestling history—all in one fell swoop.
And so began The Death of the WWF.
Foreword
In the industry of professional wrestling, there are few absolutes: the “hot tag,” Bret Hart’s unwavering popularity in Canada, and Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation.
For over a decade, McMahon’s WWF had been the undisputed leader of pro wrestling, with Vince himself as the mastermind behind the 1980s “Rock & Wrestling” era that revolutionised the sport, transforming it from a regional attraction into a global spectacle. Whilst Hulk Hogan and WrestleMania may have been the perfect pairing, it was Vince McMahon who was the architect of it all. He built a wrestling juggernaut—a global powerhouse that dismantled the territory system and created a new frontier that changed the business forever.
Where the 1980s were rich with success, the 1990s were a turbulent time for the WWF. McMahon found himself embroiled in a steroid scandal, struggling with a shifting audience, the decline of Hulkamania, and the loss of top talent to rival promotion World Championship Wrestling. WCW had spent years trying to carve out an identity after Ted Turner purchased Jim Crockett Promotions in 1988. Run by committees and executives with little understanding of the wrestling business, WCW became known for inconsistent booking, political infighting, and an inability to fully capitalise on its vast resources. The promotion had talent, a major television presence on TBS, and a dedicated fanbase in the Southeast—but it lacked a true vision. That all changed when Eric Bischoff took the reins in 1993.
Bischoff wasted no time modernising WCW, recognising that to compete with the WWF, it needed to feel bigger, fresher, and more unpredictable. He convinced Turner to give him a primetime slot on Monday nights, launching WCW Monday Nitro in 1995 to directly compete with Monday Night Raw. More importantly, he weaponised Turner’s cheque book, aggressively poaching some of the WWF’s biggest stars. Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, and Bobby Heenan were among the first major names to jump ship, but the biggest blow came in 1996 when Scott Hall and Kevin Nash—known to WWF fans as Razor Ramon and Diesel—arrived on Nitro, blurring the lines between reality and fiction and planting the seeds of what would become the Attitude Era.
Almost overnight, McMahon’s long-standing monopoly had a real competitor. WCW wasn’t just another promotion—it was a machine built to topple the WWF, using Vince’s own former stars against him. Once again, McMahon was no longer the only show in town. And for one final time, he was at war.
Except there was one final, crushing blow to be struck—one from which Vince McMahon would never recover. In May of 1996, at Madison Square Garden, a single moment set in motion what would become known as The Death of the WWF—a moment that would see Vince McMahon do the impossible and walk away from the company, and the industry, he built. That moment? The Curtain Call.
Scott Hall and Kevin Nash had little to lose—it was their last match with the company before leaving for WCW—and Shawn Michaels was the WWF Champion and its biggest draw. That meant the brunt of the consequences landed at the feet of one Hunter Hearst Helmsley. In a different time, Triple H might have just been jobbed out for a while as punishment. Instead, he and Shawn were chewed out in front of the entire locker room, and within a month, Hunter found a different calling in life. Shawn, however, returned to television almost immediately, but something wasn’t right. It would be wrong to say he lost his smile, but his ego couldn’t bear that humiliation in front of the boys. He protested by no-showing a handful of house shows. People close to Vince said he almost expected this reaction from Shawn—but what he didn’t expect was the double whammy that came during In Your House: Beware of Dog.
Word filtered through in the early afternoon that nobody had seen or heard from Shawn, and he wasn’t returning calls. A few hours later, another update arrived: Shawn Michaels would not be arriving as he had signed with WCW. Vince was shell shocked. His WWF Champion. His top star. A man he considered a son. The man he intended to build the future of the company around. He was gone—joining Hall and Nash in WCW. Three days later, Vince McMahon announced his departure from the WWF indefinitely. He would not return. Weeks later, at Bash at the Beach, Shawn Michaels appeared as the third man, reuniting The Kliq and kicking off the biggest boom period in wrestling history—all in one fell swoop.
And so began The Death of the WWF.
Foreword contributed by Dan Menzinger
