BETTER THAN YOU

MJF's enterance interrupts CM Punk. "Doesn't feel so good, getting interrupted, does it, Punky Brewster?" Max says. "You know, quite frankly--" He pauses as the audience starts to chant "Shut the fuck up" at him. "No," he says, and continues. "Quite frankly, you really hurt my feelings last week, I extended out my hand, like a gentleman? And you really hurt my feelings, but, I mean, it was almost as bad as the time you quit, took your ball and went home like a little bitch. You know what was great, though? The Pipe Bomb. Everybody loves the Pipe Bomb, right, Chicago?" The crowd cheers in agreement. The Pipe Bomb was a famous speech that Punk gave while on WWE, calling out a bunch of people. You can watch it here.

Max nods and continues. "Yeah, my god, so good, legendary, what you would call a great promo. And I think it's fair to say, Punky, that the Pipe Bomb is your best...moment. 'Cept here's the problem, bud. Every MJF moment is the best MJF moment. Cause unlike you, I'm not a one-trick pony. And don't get it twisted, I respect you, man, I respect everything you've done, hell, I even respect the fact that you're straight edge. Granted, never in my wildest dreams could I have possibly imagined a straight edge man could look so much like a meth addict." He winces mockingly as the crowd boos. "And it must be extremely difficult to be straight edge, considering, if I had your face, I'd need to down eight shots of whiskey just to look myself in the mirror.

"But you know what I can't respect? CM?" He continues. "Is how you've handled our little situation here. And you can pretend that there isn't one, but ehhhh, there is. There is. You know, you would do all your quaint little interviews, and they would ask ya, who are some opponents you would like to go up against? And you would name every single wrestler underneath the sun, except for moi...!" Punk raises his eyebrows and nods as Max goes on. "Now you can pretend it's because you weren't interested, but in reality, it's because you didn't want none. And who could blame you, Punky, I mean, your whole entire career on the stick, you've been big fish, small pond, and standing across from me, you're just a freakin' minnow. You didn't wanna go toe to toe with me on the stick, Punk? Well, too bad. Cause I'm about to verbally finish you quicker than your UFC career." This is a reference to Punk's very brief time in the UFC.

Max shrugs, faux-innocently, and says "Whoops!" as the crowd boos him. "I heard you the first time," He says, as the crowd starts chanting CM Punk's name. "So check your watch, Papa Punk, because if you decide to retort, it won't say Clobberin' Time, it'll say Outta Time." This is a reference to how, during Punk's entrance, he always pretends to check his watch and then says "It's Clobberin' Time!" Max goes on as Punk pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can drop cute little Pipe Bombs all you want, cause I'm MJF, and I drop nukes." Punk rolls his eyes, shrugs, and goes to get a microphone as the crowd chants his name.

Punk stares at Max, and after a long pause, says "I am so disappointed in you." Max scoffs, and mouths "What?" as Punk continues. "But let's not start there, let's show our guest a little bit of Chicago hospitality: I want to thank you, first and foremost, for last week. You introduced yourself to me. That's what a proper young man is supposed to do to their elders. And I had no idea your first name was Maxwell, this entire time I thought MJF stood for My Jealous Fan." The crowd cheers and Punk smiles. "See, I got the time! Seems like it still kinda does, doesn't it? If you're so hung up on the fact that I never mentioned you anytime I did press. Anytime I ever did an interview, I never brought your name up, well, that was by design. The last thing I wanted to do was feed your rotten little ego." Punk leans forward, crouching down as he addresses Max. "Look at me, Maxwell, I'm in your head. Probably has a lot to do with the fact that there's a poster of me on your wall. Doesn't change the fact that I'm disappointed. Because I've always heard about the great MJF, and then last week, I did what nobody else in this industry, nobody else in AEW has been able to do: I shut up the great MJF, without saying a word. And you had seven days. You had a whole week to think of good zingers and you came out here with the lowest hanging fruit."

"He thinks he's somebody," Punk says as he turns to address the crowd. "He thinks what he does is revolutionary to the wrestling business, when in reality, he's just a less famous Miz." The Miz is a WWE wrestler with a similar persona to Maxwell. The crowd erupts. Max and Punk have a tense staredown until Max speaks again. "Okay, settle down, settle down, settle down," He says. "Y'know, Punky, that was really solid, I mean, really creative stuff, you know, it was...almost what I wanted. Come to think of it, that phrase, almost what I wanted, kinda perfectly encapsulates your whole entire run here thus far, dontcha think? I suppose it's true. Nostalgia..." Max is cut off by the crowd chanting "Miz" at him (though it might be "mid," it's hard to tell.) He continues: "Nostalgia is a drug that causes us to misconstrue our memories, and you, my friend, are no more than nostalgia. And guess what, bud? You were right. I was a fan! I'm not ashamed to admit it, how couldn't I have been? I mean, in this ring, on the microphone, nobody could touch you. You were the best."

"Or so I thought, Chicago," Max says, mock-wincing. "Because ever since your almighty return, you've struggled to beat the easiest of competition. And you've struggled to say, quite literally, anything of intrigue." Max leans in, pretends to smell Punk and recoils. "Oh my god, Punk. Your breath smells like shit. It's probably because you've been kissing so much ass recently. I mean, you have been robotically kissing ass all over the place. You know what? I'm gonna do a little impression of you real quick, Chicago, do you mind if I give you a quick impression?"

"It sure is great to be back here in insert name of town," Max says, mocking Punk. "I sure do love being apart of insert name of company. Gee whiz! I sure am looking forward to my matchup against insert name of opponent. Robotic 'Pucker Up' Punk." He stops the impression and starts to pace. "You've gone soft, man. Your hair's going gray... and based on your eyes, if anyone needs to Go To Sleep... it's you, bud." This is a reference to Punk's finisher, which is called Go To Sleep. "You know what, ladies and gentleman, something just hit me. This is no longer CM Punk. This is PG Punk. What happened to the guy I grew up on, man? What happened to the renegade, the ass-kicker, the outsider? Cause you might as well be coming out here preaching Hustle, Loyalty, and Respect." Those three words being John Cena's mantra.

Max pauses to have a stare-down with Punk for a few moments before going on. "Except here's the problem, PG. I can see you," He says, waving his hand in front of his face, another reference to Cena. "Hell, I can see through you, buddy. You claimed you'd only came back for the younger talent, and yet you also claimed you'd only come back for a boatload of money... You claimed you couldn't fix professional wrestling from your couch in Chicago, and yet you stayed put on that couch for seven. Long. Years. Excuse after excuse not to come back, por qué, Punk? Why? Is it because you were too busy making comic books nobody read, and movies nobody saw? Or... is it because you were terrified? Scared you couldn't hang anymore? Maybe scared you never could hang in the first place... And I'm-- I have the microphone, Chicago!" He exclaims as the crowd starts jeering.

"And I'm here to tell you," he continues. "You should be scared, man. In the other company, these people looked at you like a cult hero, because they felt you were held down. You should've been utilized and showcased as the number one guy. And now--yeah, great! And now here you are...you have all the opportunity to prove these people right...But can you? Do you people think CM Punk can do it?" The crowd erupts with cheers. "I'm glad they think that now, Punk, but are they gonne feel that way in a month, two months, a year? I don't envy you, man. But I know you envy me. And I know why you don't like me, PG Punk. I know why. It's because I represent everything about this business that you hate. I'm every single thing you hate because I was born for this. Oh yeah, I'm a clean cut professional, I'm every single wrestling analyst, promoter and pundit's wet dream, while you, on the other hand, were a scrawny, tatted up misfit from the dumpiest part of the Midwest known as Chicago." The crowd, who are in Chicago, boo him.

"You had to work your tail off to become the man you are today, and I commend you for that, but I know what keeps you up at night." Max says. "I know what eats you up inside. It's the fact that after all your hard work, all your blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice you've given this sport, deep down, you know it, and these people know it: Your whole career, you've been nothing more than second best. Whether it was the 'You Can't See Me' man or the King of Kings, you were never quite up to snuff, were you?" The You Can't See Me man is John Cena and the King of Kings is Triple H. "And I can assure you, now that you're standing in my ring, in my company, things will be no different. Because you may claim to be the Best in the World... but I'm better than you... and you know it!"

Punk and Max stare at each other, inches apart, as the crowd boos. Punk smiles and slowly picks up the microphone to respond. "There's some truth in what you just said," he begins. "Little bit. Scared? Coming back after seven years? Little bit. See, I'm not gonna lie. Not even to you, I certainly never lie to these people. I didn't know if these people would remember me. I didn't know if these people would care. I didn't know if I still had it. But trust me, I'm not scared any longer. Certainly not scared of you. Because the timing might not match up, but I was selling out Madison Square Garden when you were marking out for Rosie O'Donnell." This is a reference to Max going on a talk show as a child. "And the last time on this show, you did a song and dance, you made the New York Times! Wow!" Punk smiles condescendingly. "You wanna sing me a song right now, Maxwell? Don't worry. You're standing in the ring with a pro-fessional and you're gonna make the New York Times again, but this time it's gonna be the obituaries."

"Because you have just enrolled yourself into a college your parents cannot afford," Punk continues as Max scowls and starts to pace. "You talk too much. Yeah, just like me, back in the day, except I always backed it up, and you can't back up shit without your backup. FTR. Shawn Spears. Wardlow. That's how you get things done around here, and I never mentioned you in interviews because I never had to. I looked at AEW and I said 'Wow, that's the place I wanna be, that's the place I wanna test myself,' and I went for the heart and soul of AEW, Darby Allin, and boy, that just chews you up, doesn't it? And I beat Darby Allin. And I didn't need a ring to do it." Punk gestures towards Max's Dynamite Diamond Ring.

"You're too busy talking about how you're the most powerful of the Four Pillars, you don't even realize you've been replaced by Britt Baker." Punk says. This is a reference to a storyline I am not familiar with so just don't worry about it. "And while you think you've made some excellent points, I think you talk too much and we've wasted these people's time. They call Chicago the second city, not because there's a city that's better than it, not because there's a city that was first, and you wanna call me number two? I'll proudly wear number two with a bullet, because just like Chicago, they call us the second city because when it burned to the ground, we just built right back up on top of the smoldering embers. And who's the man around here? Who's number one? Is it you? No, I don't think so. The only way you're gonna be number one is if we all wait around long enough for Tony to have a daughter that you marry."

"Last time we were here in Chicago--and hell yeah, I'm happy to be here--I gave everybody free ice cream bars," Punk continues. "The only thing I can think that's a better welcome back gift than that is punching you in your little needle dick right here, right now." The crowd starts chanting "Needle Dick" as the two take off their jackets and get ready to brawl. But instead of fighting, Max just rolls out of the ring and leaves, to a chorus of boos and "Needle Dick" from the audience. Great start to our story!

MJF and FTR enter as commentary bickers about if Max sucks or not. ("The people love him," one says as Max slaps a sign out of a fan's hands. "I can tell..." says the other.) Sting enters, wearing a CM Punk shirt and CM Punk-themed face paint. Darby Allin skateboards into the ring, followed by CM Punk himself, who's decided to also wear face paint and Sting-themed pants. He honestly looks really silly but it's okay. Punk and Max are first up in the ring, staring at each other from opposite corners, waiting for the bell to ring. They circle each other, but before anyone even gets a hit in, Max tags in Dax, and Dax and Punk start the match properly.

The match goes pretty normally, but everytime a tag happens that forces Punk and Max to fight each other, Max either immediately tags out, or he leaves the ring and runs away. At one point he even runs fully into the crowd as Punk chases him. It's a good match! It goes back and forth in terms of who's up, it doesn't feel like a complete steamroll, but MJFTR still get their asses kicked pretty bad. Max hides in the timekeeper's table for a good bit. Punk gets the pin on Dax Harwood and wins the match for his team! The big important takeaway is that Punk won and Max literally ran away from him the whole time.

Backstage with MJF and The Pinnacle (32:12)

At AEW's New Year's Smash, Max films a backstage segment with Shawn Spears and Wardlow, addressing the tension with CM Punk. "Hey." He says with a smile. Behind him, Wardlow sits on a sofa and Shawn Spears holds a steel chair with a Burberry plaid pattern on it. "It's me. One of the biggest ratings draws in all of professional wrestling. Don't believe me? Google it. And today, we're going to talk about unsafe working conditions. You see, last week I was thrown over the top rope with reckless abandonment by that untrained outlaw hack, Sting. Seriously, does anybody know who trained that guy?" He turns to Spears, who says, "I don't." I don't really know the match he's referencing but it doesn't really matter.

"Yeah. Cause he wasn't." Max continues. "The man was revered when he should've been released, and I can assure you, if I was working for a much more professional wrestling company, things like this wouldn't happen to me. But I suppose that's a conversation that needs to be had as we get closer to the bidding war of 2024." Meaning, once Max's contract is up in 2024, all the wrestling companies are going to try and sign him. I think that's what he means, at least.

"CM Punk," Max says, chuckling a little. "You claimed you wanted a piece of me, you claim you're a man of the people, and yet... The people wanna see us go at it more than anything, and you refuse to give that to 'em. You stayed away from me the entire match, like a gutless coward. Well guess what, Punky? I'm over it! You're yesterday's news. You were merely a distraction from my ultimate goal, and that is for me to hold Pretty Platinum." His little nickname for the AEW title belt. This whole time, Spears is nodding and hyping him up in the background.

"But why settle there?" He asks, then turns to Wardlow. "War-Dog. I'm gonna need you to stop chasing the hug on that cute little Powerbomb Symphony you're doing, and just start chasing some dubs so you can qualify for the Face of the Revolution Ladder Match, where the winner gets a shot at the TNT title, which I know you'll win, big man. You're great. But when you win it...you're gonna need to relinquish it to me." "What's that?" Wardlow asks, and MJF gives him a little slap on the thigh. "Okay, I had a feeling this would happen," Max says, turning to Shawn. "Spearsy, Smart Mark's just right outside, can you grab him?" Spears leaves to go get Mark (who basically just has the contract that Wardlow signed to Max).

"This guy--what is this?" Wardlow asks, pointing at Spears as he leaves. "It's just--it's in the contract, buddy! You signed it--" Max insists as Spears returns with Mark, who says "Right here in the contract, Section 3, Article 13B: I, Wardlow, hereby acknowledge that in exchange for employment with MJF LLC and full Pinnacle membership privledges, all services provided under this contract are considered work for hire, and as such, all merchandise, royalties, intellectual property created or concieved, and championships won or collected as product for my efforts, immediately and forever in perpetuity the property of Maxwell Jacob Friedman. Always have a plan, right Max? Just like I have a plan for Jade to win the TBS championship." "Cool. Spears?" Max says. "Disappear." Spears says to Mark. "No problem," Mark says, and leaves. Don't worry about him or the Jade stuff just focus on the whole Wardlow being under contract for MJF thing.

Max claps and keeps talking. "Though, in the meantime, starting next week, I myself am gonna start ranking up and getting some Ws so I can become, not just the TNT champion, but the AEW World Champion. Why?" He pauses and smiles. "Because my name is Maxwell Jacob Friedman. And I'm better than you." He kisses his ring. "And you know it."

CM Punk's promo (1:06:43)

Punk enters the ring as the commentators rip into MJF for running away the week prior. "I've never been to Daily's Place, I don't even know what the setup is. Where's Jim Ross?" Punk starts. Daily's Place is the area they're in and Jim is a commentator. "Yknow, I come out here, and I immediately get to thinking how awesome it is to see you back here sitting at that booth. You're the best to ever do it, I'm glad you're back to work, and it's awesome to see you. Thank you." Jim Ross says "Thank you, sir." Punk continues: "I'm all about giving people their flowers when they deserve it now, because I give Jim his flowers, and then I get to thinking about this place. And I've never been here, but this has been a home for AEW, and it gets me thinking about Brodie Lee." That's just another wrestler. Don't worry about him.

"And if there's anybody out there who says anything to try and minimize the impact that that man had, it just makes me feel sorry for them, because it means they never met him." He continues. "I sat at home, and I watched the tribute show to my friend from this place, and it made me wanna come here. So then I get to thinking about...maybe somebody who's not worth my time. Maybe somebody who...doesn't wanna be here. And speaking of internet trolls, yeah, I'm talking about MJF. MJF--" The crowd boos. "--is a Twitter troll in the flesh. He is somebody who talks a big game, but when it comes down to it, he don't say that stuff to your face. He hides behind a keyboard or... Dax and Cash." Dax and Cash being FTR.

"I saw it with my own eyes last week, you saw it with your own eyes last week. Somebody who's smart enough to say that the people wanna see CM Punk get his hands on MJF...but is also stupid enough to say something that he's as good as Roddy Piper in Portland. When Roddy Piper laced up his wrestling boots, and we all saw last week, MJF laced up his running shoes, didn't he? Yeah. I'm not sure if you guys heard, but MJF says he's done with me. Honestly, I'm fine with that! I got to team with the legend, Sting, I got to team with Darby Allin, and we beat FTR and MJF. So hey, I understand if MJF is afraid, if MJF is scared, if he don't want none, he doesn't have to have none. I myself am looking towards bigger and better things. I heard him say it, too. He's talking about the gold. He's talking about becoming the AEW champion. Jim Ross will attest to this: you always hear people say, if you don't wanna be the champion, you probably shouldn't be here, and that's true! I wanna be champion, too." The crowd cheers.

"There's beginnings and there's endings," he continues. "And being here, CM Punk, first time in Daily's Place, the place that has been so good to AEW, the last Dynamite on TNT, we're moving to TBS, there's bigger and there's brighter things on the horizon for CM Punk. So MJF, you are a waste of my time, and you are an even bigger waste of con money than Tim Tebow." This gets a huge pop. "So I'll leave you all with this. I don't--I never wanted to mess with MJF! But he found out the hard way that on this mic, that in this ring, even at commentary, nobody can touch me. And if he wants to climb that ladder and get some Ws to get to AEW gold, well, I imagine, sooner or later, I'll see him again in this ring. But, it'd be a real shame if somebody interfered with his quest for gold." And on that ominous note, he leaves the ring.

MJF enters the ring to a chorus of boos. He yells at a fan with a "Best In The World" sign and then flips everybody else off. The bell rings as Max and Shawn face off, but before either one can get a hit in, CM Punk runs out and dives into the ring. MJF immediately runs away from him, leaving the ring. He mocks Punk a little and yells at the crowd as they start chanting Punk's name. But instead of attacking Max, Punk turns around and hits Shawn with a low blow and a GTS (Go To Sleep). The winner of the match is announced to be Shawn Dean, due to disqualification, since Punk technically interfered on Max's behalf. Max is furious, yelling angrily at Punk, the crowd, the ref, everyone.

Punk grabs a microphone and addresses Max: "This is your future, this happens every single time you step into the ring until you step in the ring with me, you little bitch!" Max gets a mic and responds: "Okay, it's bad enough I am currently inside this cesspool known as Herpes-infested New Jersey!" "Hey, hey, don't harp on them!" Punk says. "They're winners, you just lost! It's gonna be real hard to fight for a title when you keep losing!"

"Okay, okay, you wanna talk about being a loser?" Max says. "Everything that comes outta your mouth is fake. Everything that comes outta your mouth is fake and induces boredom. The only thing--" He pauses as the crowd starts chanting "Shut the fuck up." "No-no-no-no-no, no. You came out here last week, and you said you were done with this, you said you wanted to focus on becoming a world champion, and now look at you, where are ya? Right back where you started. You wanna know why? You might have these schmucks convinced you're a big deal, but I know the truth. And the truth is, deep down, you know without me, you're nothin'. I give you an edge! I put a chip on your shoulder, I make you relevant. ("I can call bullshit on that," says commentary.)

"And for you to come out here," He continues. "For you to come out here and claim that I'm a waste of money? When you're the guy who sold Tony Khan and all of these people nothing more than a bill of goods." Tony Khan is the president/CEO of AEW. "You ain't the guy you used to be, Punk. You ain't the savior these people have been waiting for. But you know who is? Maxwell Jacob Friedman." The crowd boos. "And by the way? By the way? I think it's really interesting you have such a problem with me saying I'm like Roddy Piper, you really got offended when I drummed up that comparison. So I'm just curious, PG Punk, do-- do you think..." Max cringes a little as the crowd starts chanting "PG Punk." "Do you think... you're Roddy Piper? Because the last time I checked, unlike you, Piper was actually talented enough to Main Event a Wrestlemania." Wrestlemania is a big event at WWE, and as of this time, Punk had never been the Main Event.

The crowd erupts in a combination of cheers and boos. Punk laughs as Max smiles smugly. "Whoa, whoa, guys, I know it's complicated, but I'm holding the microphone, so maybe shut up? I dunno." Max says to the crowd. "And by the way? If I'm not starting to be shown the proper respect around here? Maybe I'll Main Event a Mania, too." ("God, he sucks," says commentary as Punk bursts out laughing, doubling over.) "What're you laughing at, dipshit?" Max snaps as Punk recovers enough to respond: "All I'm trying to do is kick your ass," he says. "So how bout you stop talking and get in the ring. I'll do it right here, right now in New Jersey. You ran from me, you hid behind FTR, alls I wanna do is give you the beating you deserve. And listen, pal, if you think the grass is so greener on the other side, be my guest! Go ahead, leave, Main Event night 4 of a buy-one-get-one-free extravaganza and then get released faster than you last in the sack. When you come back, I'll still be here, and that ass-kicking will be waiting for ya."

"Is that right?" Max yells. "Yeah? You wanna piece of me, Punk? You want the match? You people want the match? You want the goddamn match?! Well, listen here, you son of a bitch, next week, it's gonna be CM Punk...versus Wardlow." Punk sighs in disappointment as Max walks away. "I don't need it," Max says, without the microphone, as he leaves "I'm better than you. I'm better than you." He turns to someone in the crowd and says "I don't need your help, fat boy. I don't need your help." The crowd starts to chant "Bullshit," and Punk picks up the microphone again. "The difference between myself, Roddy Piper, and a worm like you, is me and Piper would fight anybody, anytime. So bring on Wardlow, eventually, you're gonna run outta people to hide behind. And I'm gonna put you to sleep."

CM Punk vs Wardlow (10:43)

MJF is ringside for Wardlow and the two enter together. Punk and Max glare at each other before the match starts. For most of the match, Wardlow kind of beats the shit out of Punk while Max looks on, smiling and clapping. Max is able to distract Punk a little bit, which lets Wardlow Powerbomb him, leading to a Powerbomb Symphony (which is just a bunch of Powerbombs over and over. It's Wardlow's finisher, I'm pretty sure?). Wardlow hits him with five, then goes for the pin, but Max stops him and demands that he Powerbomb him again and again. Once again Max stops Wardlow and demands he Powerbomb Punk through the timekeeper's table. When Punk crawls back into the ring, Max demands more. But as Wardlow goes for another Powerbomb, Punk is able to reverse the hold and pine Wardlow for the victory.

Max and Wardlow are both furious with each other. As Punk lies on the floor, recovering, Max starts berating Wardlow, saying that he'll never win the big match, and shoving him. Wardlow grabs Max's wrist hard, forcing him to back off, and Max starts panicking. As tensions rise, Shawn Spears gets in between the two, trying to calm Wardlow down. He mostly diffuses the situation, but Wardlow still storms off in a huff.

MJF's Reaction (44:27)

Max interrupts the commentators, who are discussing something entirely different. He furiously shouts "nah" over and over. "I hate to interrupt this program," He yells. "Even though I'm the only real star on it! You keep your hillbilly mouths shut while I'm talking!" He yells at the crowd, which boos him. "CM Punk? I know you're backstage right now, and I know you're in a world of pain. You, you won, congratulations, but you got--" He's cut off by the crowd chanting "asshole" at him. "But you got Powerbombed to oblivion! I know it, you know it, and all these schmuck hicks know it: that you got a fluke victory over an oaf tonight! Well, guess what? You ain't winning next week, no, I'm gonna personally make sure next week, you take your first L in AEW! Next week, I'm gonna give you the match you've all been waiting for. No more running! No more hiding! You want the match? You want the match? Next week, it's CM Punk versus Shawn Spears!" He storms away.

Backstage with Max (8:48)

"Last week was an abomination," Max says, accompanied by Wardlow. "An embarassment to our great sport. When your hero, CM Punk, was Power Bombed over and over again, until I can only assume he got early onset spinal stenosis, and what did he do? Instead of taking the loss on the chin like a man, he decided to take the easy way out. He decided to pull Wardlow in by his hair and by his tights and get a tainted pinfall victory. Granted, if Wardlow had a teeny tiny bit more seasoning, I'm sure he could've reversed it...but that's not what I'm here to talk about today." Behind him, Wardlow shakes his head, smiling in mild contempt.

"No, what I'm actually here to do is...apologize." He turns to Wardlow. "Not only have you been a stellar employee, but you have been a great friend of mine for the better part of two years and two months. It is your birthday, and my gift to you is a sincere apology, I lost my cool on you last week, and that's not okay." He pauses. "However. Big man, you put your hands on me. A-and quite frankly, that's not something I can allow, it sets a bad precedent for everyone else in this company. As much as it pains me to do this, I'm gonna have to dock your pay. Now don't take it the wrong way, you know, if you get wins again, and if you qualify for the Face of the Revolution Ladder Match and win me my TNT title, I promise you, that money's gonna go right back up. And I believe in you, big man."

Max turns to the camera. "Just like I believe in the greatest accoutabilibuddy of all time, the Chairman, the Canadian god, Shawn Spears, and I believe in the fact that tonight, he's gonna give PG Punk his first L in this company, and he's going to show the world--and you--" He turns and points to Wardlow. "How to get the job done. And I'll be there calling all the action. Because my name is Maxwell Jacob Friedman. And I'm better than you!" He winks at the camera and puts an arm around Wardlow. "And you know it."

Punk fights Spears (33:54)

Max is on commentary for this match! Which is really funny because everyone on commentary hates him. However, it doesn't matter, because Punk immediately hits Spears with a GTS and pins him, winning the match in literally 11 seconds as Max seethes and yells. Punk stares at him, crazed, beckoning him to the ring. As soon as Punk's back is turned, basking in the crowd's cheers, Max runs into the ring.

He doesn't get the chance for a surprise attack, though, because Punk turns around, and Max freezes. He tries to back away, but Punk lunges forward and grabs his scarf, pulling Max towards him. MJF tries to get Punk to back down, but Punk takes a swing at him. Max ducks and runs out of the ring, but Punk keeps his scarf and puts it around his neck as Max leaves. They stare at each other until the segment ends.

"Hello, Cleveland, how's everybody doing tonight?" CM Punk begins. "Man, I tried to walk out here like a badass, and you guys just make me smile from ear to ear. It's been a minute! It's been a minute since I've been here, but... Are you sick of hearing me talk yet?" The crowd yells "no." "Nah, see, you got it wrong, Cleveland, I'm sick of hearing me talk, that's why I'm dressed to fight. I got the long boys on, I'm taped up. This is Dynamite! This is live! Yall know who I wanna fight. Go ahead, chant his name, it'll be the first time in history, let's go." The crowd obliges, chanting "MJF." The commentators take the liberty of adding "sucks" to the end of it.

"First and last time that name'll get chanted," Punk continues. "And, look, from last week, I got myself a little bit of a souvenier." He unzips his hoodie, revealing Max's trademark scarf that he took from him the week prior. The commentators start talking about how it looks good on him. "No, it does not look good on me," Punk says, appropriately. "It doesn't look good on anybody. I thought, for a heartbeat," He whips the scarf off with emphasis. "As I snatched this while it was still around his pencil little neck, that maybe, just maybe, I could maybe, I don't know, challenge him to a match? See if he really wanted this back? I thought maybe this was sentimental to him. And then I used Google and I saw that for five bucks you can get a twelve-pack on Amazon and it's just as cheap as his personality."

"I looked further," He continues. "At the price tag on this thing, and it said 'Made in Long Island.'" The crowd boos. "So I immediately knew it waas not made of strong material. Cause I'm sick of just talking about it, I'm sick of hearing him talk, what I need is MJF in this ring. And I thought maybe, Cleveland, I know what you want, so I thought what the hell, let's do it tonight!" The crowd goes crazy. "I'm realistic, though, and I can only imagine if I call him out, he's gonna come out here in a cheap suit that doesn't fit him, and he's gonna have every excuse in the world. And I've chased him: outta the ring, up the concourse, down the steps, back into the ring. I've gone through FTR, Wardlow, Shawn Spears, everybody! There's nobody left. I want MJF. And I want him now, and I want him right here, in Cleveland!" Max's music hits in the middle of Punk's sentence.

"Cut my music, cut my music." Max says, as Punk says "Cut his crappy music, cut his crappy music!" simultaneously. The crowd starts chanting "You suck." "Oh, I suck, Cleveland?" Max says. The crowd cheers in affirmation. "So you're saying you don't wanna see me wrestle him tonight, is that what you're saying?" The crowd says "no!" "Oh, so you wanna see us wrestle tonight? So you want me to go backstage, change into my gear and wrestle him tonight at an impromptu Main Event, is that what you want?" The crowd cheers. "Cleveland, I know you're dumb, but I didn't know you were deaf, I asked you a question, do you wanna see us wrestle, right here, right now?!" The crowd cheers even louder. Max leans into the camera and says "Nooo," with a smile. "Are you guys outta your mind? Do you think I would waste one of the most historical matchups in the history of this sport on Cleveland, Ohio? This place is disgusting. This place is an absolute cesspool. Nah, nah, nah, but I'll tell you what, I'll tell you what, I'll do you one better." The crowd starts chanting "Asshole." "I'll do you one better. I'll give you the match you've all been waiting for next week, in Chicago, Illinois." Punk smiles at that. Chicago is his hometown. "It will be CM Punk versus..." Max paces around, pretending to think. "MJF!" He finally says.

"But, but, but, but, but, we ain't in Chicago right now, are we?" He continues. "No, no, no, we are in crappy Cleveland, a disgusting place, but a place rich in historical significance in the timeline of that gentleman's career. But we'll get to that." I'll let that reference pay off later. We'll get to it. :) "You know, this match, it's a dream match, it's something these people have grown impatient to see. They want the match, right now, these people are frothing at the mouth for CM Punk versus MJF, they want it! Or at least, they think they do." The crowd starts chanting "Shut the fuck up" as Punk grows visibly impatient.

"Because while the match itself is going to be spectacular, it is the outcome that is going to be very upsetting." Max says as Punk leans on the ropes, rolling his eyes. "See, not only am I gonna beat you in that dumpster fire you call a hometown known as Chicago--" He says, to which Punk interrupts with "Do it here, bitch, do it here. Let's go!" "Nah," Max says. "I'll be beating you in the M-M-M-Midwest-" A reference to the "It's called the Midwest cause everything in it is fucking mid" promo, which comes from MJF! "But it ain't gonna be here. No, it's gonna be in Chicago, and after I beat you, something very unsettling's going to happen. After I win, you people are finally going to get to see the real CM Punk."

"The CM Punk who loses his fake smile the second he doesn't get what he wants. The CM Punk who blames all of his failures on everyone else but himself. The CM Punk who feels like, if he hasn't gotten his just due, he's more than willing to sue. Your same hero, who claimed on his almighty return, August 13th, 2005, I left professional wrestling, August 20th, 2021, I'm back, will soon say on February 2nd, I'm leaving wrestling again." The crowd boos and jeers. "Oh, oh, MJF, he would never leave us again, he loves us! Didn't you guys say the same thing about Lebron James? I'm just curious." This is a reference to Lebron leaving the Cleveland Cavaliers for the Los Angeles Lakers in 2018. The crowd explodes into boos and yells at this. It's a sore spot for Cleveland.

"Last time I checked, though, it was a slap in the face when he claimed that he left in 2005, cause that ain't the truth! Truth is, he left all of you, and he left all the fans who loved him and supported him when he was scheduled to make an appearance right here in Cleveland, Ohio, back in 2014." That's the reference from before. "But he no-showed, and he turned his back on each and every one of you. What makes you think he won't do it again? And you, you watching at home on the silver screen-" He says, leaning into the camera and tapping the lens. "Yeah, I'm talking to you! You think he gives a damn that you spent the last seven years chanting his name at the top of your lungs?" Side note it KIND OF looks like he's tearing up here! I'm probably delusional though. Anyway, the crowd starts chanting "CM Punk." "Yeah?" He says. "Yeah? I got news for ya. All those chants aren't gonna stop him from turning his back on you again and then crying about it on a podcast.

"A podcast that you listen to because...you're a fan." Punk replies. "The next two things I say are not mutually exclusive: The best thing I ever did was leave. The best thing I ever did was come back. And if I didn't come back, well, you wouldn't have your brush with greatness that you're currently having, would you, Max? Go in the back, lace up your three-inch lifts with your boots, and get in the ring, and handle business. We know you can't. You know you can't. I know you can't, and Cleveland knows you can't." Max paces around a little, walking towards gorilla, but not leaving. "Poor little Maxwell, sitting at home, watching his hero on television. Too prepubescent to realize the atheletes he admires on television are human beings. Sometimes, you gotta take matters into your own hands, and that's what I've always done. I've never lied to the people. Some of 'em love me. Some of 'em hate me. That's what life is. But I would rather be me, and I would rather try and fail, than be you, and talk a big game and never show up."

"You pay to see me, you pay to stand in line and get my picture. You stand in line to get my autograph, and how dare you try to put it on these people. I made decisions. I stand by every single one of 'em. And these people...they don't love me because I win. They don't hate me because I lose. They love me because I get back up, and I try! And I fight, just like Cleveland does! Just like Chicago does!" "Oh, you always get back up, huh?" Max asks. "Yeah, I always get back up!" Punk says, overlapping. "Oh, okay, how 'bout we test that real quick?" Max says, and drops his microphone.

Wardlow and FTR come out from gorilla to back up Max, but as they walk towards the ring, Shawn Spears attacks Punk from behind and gets him on the ground. FTR join in, and the three men ruthlessly beat Punk up as Wardlow and Max watch. FTR hold Punk up for Shawn to basically stab him with the legs of a steel chair, then pin him spread eagle, face down on the mat, so Spears can hit him in the back with it. Cash wraps the scarf around Punk's neck, choking him, and yanking his head up so Max can get in his face. "How bout you get up now, Punk, huh?" He taunts. "Huh?! How bout you get up now, you dumb son of a bi--!" He's cut off as Punk yanks the (other) scarf, which Max is wearing. They struggle, but Dax punches Punk back to the ground.

"Get up! Get up! Get up!" Max shouts, then turns to Wardlow. "Hey. Power Bomb him. Power Bomb him." FTR grab Punk as Max repeats, "Power Bomb him." Spears and FTR put him in position (which, by the way, is on his hands and knees with his head in between Wardlow's legs), and Spears puts a chair on the ground, so that Punk'll land on the chair. Wardlow pauses for a couple of moments (maybe hesitating?), but as the rest of The Pinnacle eggs him on, he Power Bombs Punk into the steel chair. Punk writhes around in pain, and Max rolls his body over so he can sit cross-legged on his chest. He's now wearing two scarfs (having gotten back the one Punk took). "It is so apropos," Max says. "That the same place your journey started will be the same place it ends. I'll see you in Chicago!" He yells, grabbing Punk by the hair. He mocks the Go To Sleep motion as The Pinnacle (besides Wardlow) clap and cheer. Punk is left on his back in the ring, in pain.

The match takes place in CM Punk's hometown of Chicago. It's a super long match, so I'm not gonna explain it all too much; they fight, MJF runs away a lot, there's some cool gay shit, the usual. One big moment! MJF pulls the ref between him and Punk, and while Punk leads the ref away (ie, both of them have their back turned to Max), Max undoes one of his handwraps and starts choking Punk with it. He hides it with a headlock so the ref can't see. He chokes Punk out for awhile, until Punk's arm goes limp 3 times, meaning the match is over, and Max won. However, when the ref lifts his arm up, the tape falls to the floor. His cheating has been revealed, and the ref declares that the match will continue! Punk fights back with renewed vigor & the match goes on for around 20 more minutes. Towards the end of the match, Wardlow comes out, though it's unclear where his loyalty lies. Max lies on his back, between Wardlow and Punk, and Wardlow steps over his body to face down CM Punk. He eventually steps aside, though, standing ringside. The ref yells at him, trying to make sure he doesn't interfere, but behind his back, Max pulls out the Dynamite Diamond Ring and punches Punk, knocking him over and giving him the chance to get the pin. Max crawls over to Punk and lays over him for a three count, winning the match, though he stays there on top of Punk for a while, clutching his body. This means that Max just beat Punk in Punk's hometown. And he kind of beat him twice, given the first false victory. It's a crazy match to be their first singles match!

Max's celebration (0:33)

The show kicks off with Max celebrating his victory over Punk. Wardlow walks out of gorilla (sans entrance music, which commentary makes a point of) with cardboard cutouts of moments from the match, looking rather exasperated. He sets them up in two of the corners of the ring and hands the announcer something to read. It goes: "Ladies and gentleman, introducing first, being accompanied by pro wrestling great Tully Blanchard, they are the living legends, FTR." FTR enter with Tully, downing flutes of champagne. "Next, we have the greatest accountabili-buddy of all time, the Chairman, Shawn Spears." Spears enters with a chair and a full bottle of champagne. He hands the announcer a fancy script to read. "Soon to arrive to the ring, he hails from the most magical place in the world, Plainview, Long Island, New York. He is the three time Dynamite Diamond Ring champion, the man who's never been beaten clean in the middle of the ring, and is undefeated in AEW, the man who pins shoulders on mats and bangs all the rats, the king of All Elite Wrestling, the undefeated, undisputed, uncrowned AEW World Champion, the past, the present, and the future of professional wrestling, the greatest of all time, the sprawl god, the salt of the earth, the man who beat PG Punk twice in that dumpster fire known as Chicago in the m-m-m-midwest, ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause to the man who's better than you and you know it, Maxwell Jacob Friedman, MJF."

Max enters on a throne, carried by six guys and flanked by two women in dresses. He waves at the crowd, who boo him relentlessly. As he steps in the ring, he has one of the women kiss his cheek, and the other makes out with him. Everyone, minus Wardlow, gets in a circle and jumps up and down in excitement, and then Max gets on the mic. "Alright, cut my music, cut my music!" He says, beaming. "Oh, it's hot in AC tonight, baby! So let me just make something perfectly clear--guys, I'm holding the mic." He gestures for the audience to quiet down, which they don't. "Settle down, settle down! I think I made it crystal clear last week that I'm the best wrestler on the planet. Not Kenny Omega, not Bryan Danielson, not Adam Cole, not Hangman, no, no, right now you're looking at the best in the world."

"Actually, actually, scratch that. I just beat CM Punk twice in Chicago, I'm better than the best in the world! But you know what? Last week was a little bit bittersweet for me, I'm not gonna lie." The crowd starts chanting "shut the fuck up." "I'm just getting started!" Max says. "Last week was a little bittersweet for me because as I was lying on top of CM Punk after I had just beaten him twice in Chicago, a lot of emotion came over me, and it was at that moment I realized, I just beat somebody I grew up watching on my TV screen. That meant a lot, so I, I decided to lean over and whisper two heartwarming words into his ears, and those heartwarming words were... you suck!" He bursts out laughing and daps up Spears. "We got em, we got em. But in all seriousness, but in all seriousness... if anybody deserves to hear the two words 'thank you,' it's the man for without him I wouldn't have been able to beat CM Punk... twice... in Chicago... And that big, strapping young man's name is..." Wardlow starts to take a step forward, until Max says "Shawn Spears, baby!"

"Hold on, Maxy," Spears says as the crowd erupts in boos and as Wardlow seethes. "Given your historic win last week, I got you a gift." He points to the screens, which display a graphic of Max with the phrase "Better than the "best" in the world and you know it" on it. "That's your new shirt, baby! That's your new shirt! And it's available now at shopaew.com and prowrestlingtees.com. That's for you!" "You mean you can buy that shirt right now?" Max says. "My God! Now hold on, hold on, I'm not just here to party, I'm here to make a statement. After last week, I proved I'm better than Bret in Canada, I'm better than Piper in Portland, and I'm damn sure better than CM Punk in Chicago." These are references to legendary wrestlers Bret Hart and Roddy Piper. "It's time I become your new AEW World Champion!" CM Punk walks out of gorilla. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Max says. "You gotta be kidding me."

Punk gestures for a microphone as the crowd chants his name. Tony Schiavonne (a commentator) comes up and holds the mic to him. "Gosh, you know, I'm watching the monitor in the back, and you're talking about beating me in Chicago, your win in Chicago is about as suspect as your spray tan. I'm a little bit of an island amongst myself, I don't like to ask for help. Luckily, today I've learned from my mistake a couple of weeks ago; you bunch of jackasses like to pick your spots and beat up one guy, today I got some friends." He gestures to gorilla, and out come Darby Allin and Sting, with baseball bats. "Take your jackets off, get your dress shoes off, this is gonna go one of two ways: I'm either gonna get what I want, or I'm gonna come down here with my friends and I'm gonna beat it outta you. I want a rematch!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Max interrupts. "I just beat you twice! You don't deserve a rematch--!" "Max!" Punk interrupts. "Max, I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to the guy that beat me in Chicago, Wardlow. Because let's face it, the whole lot of you in the ring wouldn't have won anything in the last six months if it wasn't for that man. And big man, listen to me and listen to me good, you can be on the end of the beating that these guys are about to receive, or you can grow some balls and you can leave these jerks."

"Okay, hold on, hold on, hold on," Max says. "Hold on, hold on, big man, hold on. First of all, I beat you all by myself in Chicago--" "Oh, really?" "--You all know it!" "You hear him, Wardlow?" Punk says. "You hear him?" "Hold on, and second of all, and second of all," Max continues. "Wardlow, Wardlow hangs around us, not just because he's under contract with me, but because he's our best friend! Everybody knows that!" "Just shut up, Max, gimme a rematch." "And third of all--" "Gimme a rematch!" Dax takes the mic from Max.

"Punk, do you, do you think I enjoy dressing like this, huh? Hell no, I don't even look good in a damn suit!" He says. "But here's the thing, I am comfortable in my, in my fighting attire, and you're talking about rematches, well you got the absolute best tag team in this damn world in the ring, and I'm begging for a rematch!" Punk checks with Sting and Darby, and then says "Alls you had to do was ask, Dax, sign me up, the three of us, we want a rematch from Greensboro, cause I get my hands on little Max."

"Alright, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on. Wait just a damn minute." Max says. "No way I'm wrestling in this cesspool here in Atlantic City, no shot! Plus, this actually does give me a little idea, though. You want a rematch against me, and the greatest tag team of all time will have to rematch against you. We're in Atlantic City, huh? How bout we roll the dice a little bit? I'm sure Tony Khan's gonna love this idea. Hey, Punker. If in the condition that you're in, you can beat the greatest tag team of all time, FTR, with any tag partner of your choosing, I'll give you a match against me, any match, anytime, anywhere. However! Here's the deal." He points at Darby and Sting. "It can't be Tweedledum or Tweedle-dipshit over there. They have to head to the back. Good luck finding a partner in the locker room who doesn't hate your guts! Now, in the meantime, Wardlow, if I were you, I'd suit up, cause you got a match next. And I'm gonna keep the party rolling. Because my name is Maxwell Jacob Friedman, and I'm better than the Best in the World, and you know it."

Tag Match Aganist FTR (52:07)

FTR enters first, and then CM Punk, keeping up the mystery of Punk's tag partner. Max watches his entrance on the monitor backstage with Spears, drinking champagne and inaudibly mocking Punk. His partner's music hits, revealing that it's... Jon Moxley! Max is flabbergasted by this turn of events. Click here for a brief explanation as to why this is crazy. Mox enters through the crowd as usual, flipping off FTR and bowing to Tully Blanchard (who's ringside). Also he just looks so hot sorry that's not relevant. But it is to me. Also, fun to note, this is about a month before the formation of Blackpool Combat Club, and you can hear commentary mention Bryan Danielson's offer to Moxley. That story isn't really relevant to the CMJF feud, but I love the BCC/Death Riders, so it's just a fun thing for me.

The match itself is great. FTR targets Punk's bad leg, Mox throws FTR around like crazy. There's a moment where Dax yanks Mox's pants basically all the way down. Mox drags Cash out into the crowd. Mox goes through a table. Mox bleeds a little bit. It's a good amount of Mox suffering, which is cool. Cash hits Punk in the head with the ring bell, but Punk somehow pulls through. Punk gets Cash in an Anaconda Vice, and Cash taps, but the ref's distracted, and Tully's able to intervene and break the hold. Punk hits a GTS on Tully, though, and manages to kick out of a desperate pin by Cash. Punk and Mox hit a GTS and a Paradigm Shift (Mox's finisher) at the same time on FTR, and win the match! Max is not happy about this and throws his champagne to the floor in rage. This means that Punk gets a rematch with MJF, and he gets to decide what the match is. This is awesome.

The show starts with Punk sitting cross-legged in the ring, with a red box in front of him. "If you don't know by now, you should," he starts. "My name is CM Punk, and what I am is straight edge. I'm drug-free, I'm alcohol-free, and that means I'm better than you. Does that sound familiar?" He winks. "Those words I spoke for the first time over twenty years ago, and they became the foundation of my career. And I can sit here in Nashville, Tennessee, and feel pride that that foundation grew into such a career that I have managed to inspire the next generation of professional wrestling. Some of 'em are sitting in the lcoker room right now, some of 'em became wrestlers because of me, some of 'em became straight edge because of me, hell... some of 'em sit like I do. And then there's MJF." The crowd boos.

"He tries to walk like me, to talk like me, he could never think like me. But when he beat me in my hometown... twice... y ou would think that I would be furious, that I would be mad. But to tell you the truth, Max... I'm proud of you. Where you stray from the path is you fail to retain the knowledge of the lessons that you are being taught. Maxwell Jacob Friedman fancies himself Piper in Portland, Bret in Calgary, and Punk in Chicago when in reality, he's just shitty little Max from shitty little Long Island. The foundation of Max's career has been a ring that he has used to beat opponent after opponent, and it's a ring that he won with help from other people. So now the situation is this, because of last week, shoutout to Jon Moxley, thanks for the assist, I now get to pick the time, the place, the date, and the match, for my rematch with little Max. So we'll get right to it. The time? Probably right after sundown. The place is Orlando, Florida, the date is March 6th, the Pay-Per-View is called Revolution. Which leaves us with the match."

"And I started to think about some of my toughest matches. And I thought the situation that I'm in, maybe, you put me in a cage. No, but let's be honest. I've seen Wardlow, I'm sure he can climb a cage, and Max can still run. Max can still climb onto the cage and run from the lessons that he so desperately needs to be taught. Piper in Portland... So I go back into the vault and I think of these, these matches that I've had, with legends, matches that were hard, and the cage matches seem like they were easy, because believe it or not, ladies and gentleman, I've won more cage matches than I've lost. And losing got me thinking of one of the toughest matches I've ever lost, and the ironic thing about losing a tough match, is that's when you learn. Those are the lessons that I really retain, cause... we need Max to learn some lessons. So I thought back on the toughest matches of my career, matches where I literally left pieces of myself in the ring." He starts hitting his hand against the box.

"And I think, Piper in Portland, Piper in Portland, Max, you wanna be tethered to Piper so bad? You're gonna have to be tethered to me. And two days removed from the Hallmark holiday, Valentine's Day, I'm left without a Valentine, and it's very poetic that I get to ask you the question, Max." Punk opens the box, which is filled with tissue paper that he starts taking out. "Piper had his, now I have mine. Maxwell Jacob Friedman, will you-" He lifts a spiked leather dog collar out of the box, connected to another collar by a chain. "-be my Valentine?" The crowd cheers. "And I know Max is backstage right now, pissing his pants, cause nobody wants to be in a dog collar match. Sometimes they take years off your life, I promise you they take years off your career, but that's the goal. That's the lesson you need to be taught, Max. So I'm gonna ask you to come out here right now, because there's one more thing I need to tell you, and I wanna look you directly in your eyes when I say it." Max's music hits and he enters. Commentary notes the origin of the dog collar match, with Greg Valentine and Roddy Piper. Piper is who Max and Punk have been referencing this whole time, and the "will you be my Valentine" stuff is also a reference to Greg Valentine.

"I want you to take it all in, Max," Punk says, staring at a silent MJF. "And I wanna leave you with this." He reaches into the box again and pulls out a photo. "This picture." The camera zooms in, and we see that it's a picture of Max meeting Punk at a meet and greet as a child, sometime in the early 00s. "You see it, Max? I'm sure you remember it well. Possibly the greatest day of your life, and to me, it was Friday." Max turns away from Punk and the picture, looking incredibly conflicted. "Sunday, March 6th, Orlando, Florida, Revolution Pay-Per-View is gonna be the worst day of your life, and to me, it's just gonna be Sunday." Max looks at Punk, and his eyes look slightly teary. "The price you paid to see me on this day pales in comparison to the price you will pay on March 6th. The canvas I sit on's not gonna be stained with your shitty spray-tan, it's gonna be stained with your blood."

Punk puts the mic down and stands up, holding the collars. He wraps the chain around his neck and holds it between his teeth as Max struggles to think of what to say. He lifts the mic to his mouth, but, overcome with emotion, is unable to speak. He blinks back tears as Punk yanks the chain in his hands. Worldlessly, Max drops the microphone and walks backstage. Punk poses with the collars as the crowd cheers.

Coming soon!

Coming soon!