Tell me you’re building a match for SummerSlam without saying the word SummerSlam. Or the combatants. Or making it vaguely appealing for the fan who watches week in and week out.
That was Brock Lesnar vs Oba Femi at WWE Clash in Italy.
Not a great match.
Not a particularly interesting match.
Not even a necessary match.
Just a giant flashing sign pointing towards the next two-night Premium Live Event while the rest of us sat there wondering why we were expected to care.
The Closure Was Better Than The Comeback
The strange thing is that WWE already had the perfect ending.
At WrestleMania 42, Oba Femi flattened Brock Lesnar in under five minutes. The Fall From Grace landed. The crowd lost its mind. Lesnar left his gloves and boots in the ring.
Done.
Finished.
Complete.
For anyone who has followed WWE Brock Lesnar since 2002, there was something oddly satisfying about it. Not because Lesnar was bad. Far from it. His 2002-2004 run remains one of the greatest monster pushes the industry has ever produced.
But because the symbolism worked.
The old beast finally met something bigger.
Something younger.
Something stronger.
Something that wasn’t interested in mythology.
Oba Femi simply beat him.
The moment felt earned.
Then WWE immediately reversed course.
Lesnar returned on Raw, hit a pile of F5s, and suddenly we were right back where we started.
Lament is probably the correct word.
Not anger.
Not outrage.
Just disappointment.
Because anyone who watches Raw, NXT and SmackDown every week could see exactly where this was heading.
The Match Stank The Moment It Was Announced
Honestly, this match stank as soon as it was hinted at.
The bell rang.
Lesnar cheap-shotted him.
Four consecutive F5s.
Four.
And Oba kicked out.
At this point, who even cares about protecting finishers anymore?
For years WWE conditioned audiences to believe the F5 was a match-ending nuclear weapon. Then we arrive in Turin and Oba survives four of them before the match has properly started.
The crowd loved it.
The casual viewers probably loved it.
The people who only show up for the major PLEs probably thought it was epic.
The rest of us were already checking our watches.
The Kimura Was The Only Interesting Part
Credit where it is due.
The Kimura sequence was excellent.
Lesnar finally behaved like somebody with a legitimate combat sports background. Rather than trying to out-power Oba Femi, he targeted the arm.
It made sense.
If Oba’s greatest weapon is Fall From Grace, damage the arm and take the lift away.
Simple.
Logical.
Professional wrestling doesn’t always need to be complicated.
Femi’s response was genuinely impressive. Trapped in the submission, he somehow muscled Lesnar off the mat and hoisted him while still locked in the hold.
That was the moment.
That was the spot people will remember.
Everything afterwards became increasingly regressive.
Welcome Back To The Brock Lesnar Show
After the Kimura?
Almost total domination.
Lesnar controlled everything.
Oba barely got anything meaningful.
His one credible comeback was essentially a half-hit, single-arm chokeslam that Lesnar practically no-sold before immediately taking control again.
Perhaps that is the problem with modern Lesnar matches.
Everything revolves around Lesnar.
The structure.
The pacing.
The selling.
The offence.
The drama.
Even when he is supposed to be helping create a new star, the gravitational field bends back towards him.
There is a case to be made that age is part of it. Lesnar is not the athlete he was twenty years ago. The explosiveness remains, but the willingness to take punishment appears increasingly selective.
The result is a match structure that resembles WWE 2K26 more than professional wrestling.
Spam finisher.
Kick out.
Spam finisher.
Kick out.
Repeat until the booking committee gets bored.
The Count-Out That Told The Truth
The most revealing moment arrived at ringside.
Lesnar launched Oba through the announce table with another F5.
This should have been the dramatic climax.
The sort of spot where commentators begin preparing for the finish.
Instead Oba rose from the wreckage and staggered back inside at nine.
What happened next said everything.
Lesnar and Paul Heyman were actively preparing to celebrate a count-out victory.
A count-out.
In a supposed super-fight.
One participant was apparently happy winning without actually pinning the other.
That tells you everything you need to know about how little faith WWE had in presenting this as a definitive contest.
The borborygmus of storytelling was impossible to ignore. Lots of noise. Very little substance.
Seven F5s Later
Eventually the seventh F5 landed.
Seven.
Not one.
Not two.
Seven.
Only then did Oba Femi stay down.
The final count arrived.
Uno.
Due.
Tre.
The passionate Turin crowd gave the spectacle everything they had.
Unfortunately the match itself gave very little back.
Michael Cole compared the fight to gladiators.
Corey Graves described biblical destruction.
What unfolded felt far closer to contractual obligation.
Why This Happened
Let’s not pretend this is complicated.
This match served two purposes.
First, it was an ego settlement.
Lesnar was beaten decisively at WrestleMania.
Now the score is 1-1.
Coincidentally, Lesnar immediately reminded everybody of exactly that after the match.
Not subtle, was it?
Second, it was a bridge to SummerSlam.
The moment Lesnar started gloating about the series being level, the destination became obvious.
Probably with some bigger stipulation.
Probably with more marketing.
Probably with more discussion about legacy.
Probably with the exact same outcome everyone can already see coming.
The TKO Problem
This is where the frustration truly sits.
Because this feud is not really for us.
It is for the people who don’t watch every week.
TKO and ESPN want recognisable names.
They want crossover appeal.
They want combat sports authenticity.
They want Brock Lesnar news generating clicks.
They want people searching Brock Lesnar record statistics.
They want UFC fans drifting into WWE.
From a business perspective, fair enough.
But the consequence is that weekly viewers increasingly feel taken for granted.
We watch Raw.
We watch NXT.
We watch SmackDown.
Some of us even watch AAA when it appears on YouTube.
We invest dozens of hours every month.
Then we’re told the biggest stories should revolve around a part-time attraction who already had the perfect ending handed to him two months ago.
Oba Deserves Better
The saddest part is that Oba Femi deserves better.
Isaac Odugbesan, the man behind the character, has everything WWE should want.
A former elite athlete.
Oba Femi has the bigger biceps and pecs.
A legitimate developmental success story.
A 273-day NXT dominance reign.
A genuine aura.
For anyone still Googling “Obi Femi height” or trying to understand why he stands out, the answer is obvious the moment he walks through the curtain. He looks like a final boss.
WrestleMania should have been the coronation.
Instead we’re stuck circling the same mountain again.
Maybe the trilogy will be excellent.
Maybe SummerSlam delivers something genuinely memorable.
Maybe WWE has a bigger plan.
I hope its Kit Wilson vs. Oba Femi II at SummerSlam.
At this moment, one can only assume so.
But standing in Turin, watching seven F5s, a pointless count-out tease and an ending visible from orbit, it felt less like a new chapter and more like WWE desperately trying to recreate a moment that had already happened.
One positive, though.
Oba Femi’s gear looked fantastic.
That’s about all I’ve got.
doragon sports 