Title reigns aren't supposed to be nap time
Look, I get it. We all love to retreat to the sanctuary of the Performance Center when the main roster booking starts smelling like week-old fish. But lately, checking the NXT title reigns feels like scrolling through a burner phone account—lots of activity, very little substance. We’ve collectively decided that gold around the waist means greatness, but staring at these current runs, I’m seeing more filler than a reality TV season.
First off, the Trick Williams situation is a weird spot to be in. The ceiling on this guy is through the roof, but he’s currently in that awkward phase where he’s more concept than champion. He’s got the charisma of a guy who should be main-eventing pay-per-views, yet his matches lack that specific, visceral grit that defines a true NXT legend. He walks into every match like he’s already won it, and honestly, that’s just lazy booking.
The women's division is running on fumes
Roxanne Perez is talented, sure. If you put a pair of wrestling boots on her and told her to go to battle, she’d probably produce a clinic. But her current reign is starting to feel like that one guest who stays at your house for three weeks too long. The momentum she had as the plucky underdog has evaporated, replaced by a character that seems afraid to actually drop a gear and get dirty.
We look back at the glory days of Shayna Baszler or Asuka's dominance where every title defense felt like a calculated hit. Now, it feels like we are just holding the belt until someone in the booking room remembers they have a TV deal to fulfill. It reminds me of the mid-2000s when mid-card titles became glorified necklaces, just props for entrances and merchandise shoots instead of markers of the best worker in the room.
The tag division is a total ghost town
Don't even get me started on the tag team title situation. It used to be the hallmark of what made the brand special—you had the Revival, DIY, and American Alpha putting on masterpieces that made the main roster look amateur. These days, the tag titles might as well be invisible. It feels like every time I tune in, the belts are strapped to some random pairing of guys who just happened to be standing next to each other in the catering line.
If you aren't building a story that spans six months of brutal tag team warfare, you aren't actually running a division. You’re just babysitting. The fans are already distracted, looking at AEW Scotland tickets and wondering if a change of pace is coming, because right now, the NXT tag landscape is as exciting as a rain delay in a baseball game.
The reality check we need
There is a real problem with prestige when the championships feel interchangeable. A title reign should be a story arc, not a calendar requirement. If you look at the raw numbers, the win-loss records of our current champions are as the wrestling forums noted, heavily padded by matches that end in disqualifications or run-ins. That’s not championship wrestling. That’s soap opera writing.
I'm not asking for a return to the dark, pseudo-indie basement aesthetics of 2014, but I am asking for some respect for the belt. We don't need another generic face-off in the ring interrupted by music. We need people who hold those titles to act like they are the most important things in their lives. Right now, it feels like they’re just waiting for the call to the big show. If you’re already looking at the exit, you aren’t champion material.
Sometimes I think we’re just grading on a curve because we want NXT to be good so badly. We treat every decent superkick as if it’s a career-defining moment. It’s not. It’s just work. Let’s have higher standards for the gold, or quit acting like the brand is the promised land for professional wrestling.
