When I was ten in 1994, Hulk Hogan defected to WCW, the wrestling promotion I always followed, and Randy Savage joined him a few months later, with more defections coming soon after. I believed they were leaving because they saw the best talent was in WCW and wanted to be a part of it. To me, WCW was the major promotion, the prime-time Saturday night show for more mature audiences, while the WWF seemed like a Saturday morning kids’ version of wrestling… This view was reinforced when, while browsing WWF pay-per-view rental tapes at the local video store, I came across Ric Flair’s 1991-1992 run in the WWF as the “Real World’s Champion” and eventually the WWF Champion. In my mind, the WWF was trying to align its title with the “real” world title Flair held, which came from the more prestigious WCW. The Monday Night Wars would soon change all of this.
My perception of Hogan and Savage was complicated. Despite their iconic status and immense popularity, I was a Sting fan. Since Sting was the first world champion I ever saw, Vader quickly became my next favorite. However, once Hogan and Savage arrived in WCW, Vader never regained the title, and Sting’s reigns were brief and marred by poorly executed storylines. Pop culture icons overshadowed my favorite wrestlers.
There’s a reason for that. Hogan and Savage were indeed more iconic figures in professional wrestling. My understanding of history was flawed; the WWF had always been the big leagues in terms of revenue throughout the 80s, while WCW was still establishing itself when I first started watching in 1992.
The Monday Night Wars began with WCW’s lavish spending on guaranteed contracts for stars like Hogan, Savage, Scott Hall, and Kevin Nash. Although this spending spree initially boosted WCW, it ultimately led to its downfall when non-Turner investors were unwilling to sustain the financial losses just to keep wrestling on TV. By 2000, the company’s financial strain was evident. During the early days of the Monday Night Wars, however, my theory seemed valid.
While WCW champions were either legends like Hogan, Savage, and Flair or exceptional talents like the Giant, the WWF Championship seemed to be relegated to mid-card status in my eyes. Bret Hart, to my late 80s and early 90s pay-per-view-trained view, was primarily a tag team and Intercontinental Champion. The only IC champ who distinguished himself beyond that was Savage, and to me, Hart was no Savage. Diesel was simply Vinnie Vegas to me, and Shawn Michaels was just a tag and IC champ.
In the mid-90s, wrestlers who had struggled in WCW earlier, such as Dustin Rhodes, Steve Austin, Mick Foley, and Hunter Hurst Helmsley, were winning titles in the WWF. This made sense to me at the time. However, history and perspective later revealed that my young view was misguided. Many of these wrestlers left WCW because they saw that Hogan’s creative control would dominate the top of the card without drawing the same numbers he had in the WWF. Others were underappreciated by WCW management, particularly Eric Bischoff, who remained committed to the Hogan agenda.
What was actually happening was a significant talent shift—multiple defections, though relatively small. WCW was losing its homegrown and emerging talent that could have sustained the company in the future. It wasn’t until nearly the end of WCW’s run that I understood what had happened.
By the mid to late 90s, I was deeply invested in WWF TV. I loved Stone Cold and Foley (both ex-WCW wrestlers). I disliked The Rock and Bret Hart. As a teenager, I was also drawn to the occasional female nudity. The nWo and the legends appearing in WCW kept me engaged, so much so that I bought a second TV and a cable splitter to watch Nitro and Raw simultaneously.
Around mid-1998, WCW began losing my interest. I suppose I was one of the few who wasn’t a Goldberg fan. I had long since lost interest in Hogan, whether as a heel or face. After Slamboree ’98, WCW had deprived me of a long Sting title run for the last time, and I too defected. Raw became my primary focus. Chris Jericho played a major role in my switch. Despite Sting’s short pushes, the lack of attention to Jericho annoyed me. There was a storyline where Jericho, then a cruiserweight/TV champ, emerged as a main heel against Goldberg. I was excited about the prospect of a smaller, skilled wrestler challenging the brute. But then the storyline fizzled out.
Later, Jericho’s biography and podcast revealed that Goldberg simply didn’t want to work with him, likely influenced by Hogan and Nash who deemed Jericho unworthy of Goldberg. Goldberg still uses the “it’s just not believable” line in interviews to explain why he couldn’t see Jericho as a credible opponent, as if size and strength were the only factors in wrestling. When Jericho made a huge impact in the WWF with his Y2J campaign and impressive debut, my switch was confirmed. I left Nitro and put Raw on both screens. When I did occasionally check back in with WCW, it was either rehashing old nWo storylines or delving into Vince Russo’s chaotic ideas. I quickly switched the second TV back to Raw.
I wasn’t alone in my switch. Other talented wrestlers from WCW, such as future WWF champions Eddie Guerrero and Chris Benoit, also made the move. By 1999, WCW began to suffer financially, with declining TV and PPV ratings and an inability to establish compelling new storylines.
Ultimately, the defections of talented young wrestlers from WCW to WWF contributed significantly to WCW’s decline. After the initial boost from the departures of Hogan and Savage, along with Hall and Nash, the rest is well-documented history. The Monday Night Wars, with its shifting talent and changing dynamics, underscored the dramatic impact these defections had on both companies.
