At some point, around Stephanie Vaquer hitting Angel Wings and climbing toward the top rope, I thought WWE had made its decision.
This was it.
New champion.
And really, why wouldn’t they?
RAW is heading to Mexico City next week. Before that, WWE is wandering around South America, including a show in Santiago, Chile. Stephanie Vaquer is Chilean. She is enormously popular. Liv Morgan had defended the Women’s World Championship precisely once in more than 100 days.
You didn’t need Paul Heyman standing in front of a conspiracy board covered in red string to see where this was going.
Give Vaquer the championship in Birmingham, send her back to South America carrying it, sell tickets, sell shirts, film the enormous reactions, and enjoy the footage of WWE’s conquering Chilean hero returning home.
A quick cash injection wrapped in national pride.
We’re not stupid.
Which, as it turned out, was exactly why WWE didn’t do it.
WrestleMania 42, Again
The slightly peculiar thing about Stephanie Vaquer challenging Liv Morgan on the September 7 episode of RAW was that we had already done this.
At WrestleMania 42, Morgan defeated Vaquer for the Women’s World Championship. Vaquer then disappeared through injury for several months, leaving what should have been the beginning of a substantial rivalry unfinished in a drawer somewhere.
Morgan, meanwhile, became champion in the slightly administrative sense of the word.
She had the belt. She appeared with the belt. Everyone called her champion.
Actually defending the thing was apparently optional.
Her only successful defence before facing Vaquer came against IYO SKY at SummerSlam, despite SKY having won Queen of the Ring the previous month. More than 100 days into Morgan’s reign, we were therefore entering only the second proper title defence.
It was less a fighting championship and more an expensive item Liv had been allowed to take home.
Vaquer’s return immediately changed that.
She had unfinished business, a WrestleMania defeat to avenge and, conveniently enough, an impending trip back towards her corner of the world.
Even a little morality play played out before the match.
Becky Lynch offered Vaquer assistance against Morgan’s Judgment Day entourage, provided Becky received the first championship opportunity afterwards.
Vaquer declined.
“Every time I trust someone, they end up stabbing me in the back.”
Reasonable, really. This is professional wrestling. Asking somebody to watch your back is historically about as sensible as leaving your wallet unattended in an airport Wetherspoons.
So Vaquer went alone.
La Primera Looks the Part
Vaquer’s presentation is immediately convincing.
The entrance helps. The mannerisms help. The red ring gear certainly helps.
It is hard not to notice that the singlet is designed to display Vaquer’s glutes prominently. WWE’s production team certainly doesn’t seem desperate to hide this fact either.
Still, beyond the obvious Glute Situation, she carries herself like somebody WWE expects you to take seriously.
And the Birmingham crowd already did.
Vaquer started aggressively, taking Morgan outside and launching herself from the apron. Morgan’s great strength as an opponent is that she understands how to make somebody else’s offence look increasingly unpleasant while simultaneously appearing personally offended that it is happening to her.
Both women are wonderfully expressive.
Morgan is permanently performing—facial expressions, little gestures, shouting towards the audience. Vaquer is more economical, but her movement has an intensity that makes everything look purposeful.
Then came the advert break.
Of course.
Nothing says premium global streaming era quite like disappearing halfway through a championship match.
When we returned, Morgan had Vaquer in a headlock, meaning several minutes of professional wrestling had occurred in a parallel universe accessible only to people inside Legacy Arena.
Liv Morgan, Sports Entertainer
Morgan gradually took control and showed why this match worked far better than simply framing her as the cowardly champion awaiting punishment.
She can wrestle.
A shotgun dropkick landed beautifully. The high knees looked vicious. Then came the Three Amigos.
One.
Two.
Three.
Morgan followed them with a wonderfully obnoxious Viva La Raza gesture, borrowing Eddie Guerrero’s offence and then celebrating her own tribute with exactly the smugness required.
Loved it.
This is the version of Morgan that makes the character work. Not somebody incapable of beating Vaquer, but somebody good enough that the shortcuts feel like choices, not necessities.
Vaquer responded with a superkick.
Then headbutts.
Lots of headbutts.
There is something pleasingly primitive about a wrestling match temporarily abandoning increasingly elaborate sequences because one competitor has decided to introduce her forehead to another person’s skull repeatedly.
Vaquer added hip tosses and attempted to build towards her finish, only for Morgan to escape.
Then came the Dragon Screw.
Morgan’s knee twisted horribly, and suddenly all the speed disappeared. Vaquer had found something specific to attack and, unlike most wrestling limb work, Morgan actually bothered selling it afterwards.
Novel concept.
Then Vaquer positioned Morgan for the Devil’s Kiss.
Or, given the evening’s camera direction, the Glute Showcase.
Both descriptions are technically accurate.
Birmingham Decides This Is Awesome
Another advert.
During which, naturally, something interesting happened.
Vaquer apparently delivered another Devil’s Kiss to Morgan on the announce table while the Birmingham crowd broke into “This is awesome” chants.
Imagine buying a television product and having one of the most visually distinctive moves in the match happen while you’re watching advertising.
This is modern wrestling. Mechagodzilla rebuilt by a marketing department, enormous, expensive, technically impressive and occasionally stopping mid-rampage because somebody needs to tell you about a consumer product.
When we returned, both women were down.
From there the match became considerably more physical.
The strikes had weight. Vaquer’s headbutts continued. Morgan answered with increasingly desperate counters and produced an excellent crucifix takedown into a pinning attempt that came extremely close.
By now the match had escaped the slightly awkward feeling that sometimes accompanies television rematches. They were not recreating WrestleMania. They were having another fight.
Morgan climbed the ropes.
Then came another Eddie Guerrero flourish.
It was becoming less tribute and more temporary identity theft.
Unfortunately for Morgan, Vaquer intercepted her.
Superplex.
And not merely a superplex. Vaquer rolled through and turned the sequence into a brutal powerbomb across the knee.
Two.
Very nearly three.
That was the moment when everything began pointing towards a title change.
Surely This Is It
Vaquer tried the running meteora.
Missed.
Morgan attempted Oblivion.
Missed.
Vaquer caught her.
Angel Wings.
Morgan was down.
Vaquer climbed.
And here we go.
Except professional wrestling has a particular relationship with inevitability. The moment something becomes obvious, everyone involved starts desperately looking for a trapdoor.
Judgment Day appeared.
Roxanne Perez and Raquel Rodriguez came to ringside because Liv Morgan’s championship apparently comes with a roadside assistance package.
Rodriguez distracted the referee and was quickly ejected. Becky Lynch then arrived, having presumably decided Vaquer’s rejection of her earlier offer didn’t stop her from getting involved anyway.
Suddenly there were people everywhere.
Vaquer.
Morgan.
Raquel.
Roxanne.
Becky.
The referee.
A championship belt.
All that was missing was Adam Pearce, clipboard in hand, looking stressed.
Perez got the title into Morgan’s hands while the referee was occupied elsewhere.
Morgan swung.
Vaquer got clocked.
Oblivion.
One.
Two.
Three.
Oh.
I genuinely thought they were changing the championship.
Liv Morgan Escapes Again
That feeling matters.
Dirty finishes are among wrestling’s most exhausted pieces of machinery. Faction interference in particular can become painfully predictable. The Judgment Day have spent enough years appearing at ringside that their arrival should probably be included in WWE venue risk assessments.
But this one worked because the obvious story appeared to be pointing elsewhere.
Vaquer was back.
Vaquer was popular.
Morgan had barely defended the championship.
RAW was about to head to Mexico City.
WWE was touring South America.
Chile was coming.
Surely they wanted Stephanie Vaquer arriving there as Women’s World Champion?
Apparently not.
Or at least, not yet.
That final distinction does a lot of work.
WWE protected Vaquer because Morgan did not really beat her. She survived her. There is a difference, particularly in wrestling, where villains have spent decades converting administrative technicalities into personality traits.
Morgan remains champion because her friends interfered, because Perez supplied the weapon and because the referee happened to be looking somewhere else at precisely the required moment.
This was less a successful title defence than an insurance claim.
Vaquer, meanwhile, walks away having effectively beaten Morgan.
And now Chile awaits.
Subtle.
A Good Match With a Familiar Escape Hatch
At 17 minutes and 47 seconds, this was the longest televised match of the night, and it largely justified the time.
Occasional transitional moments didn’t land perfectly, but the key sequences did. Morgan’s Three Amigos were excellent. Vaquer’s Dragon Screw gave the middle portion some structure. The superplex into the knee powerbomb was superb. The announce-table Devil’s Kiss gave Birmingham its spectacle.
Most importantly, both women made it feel competitive.
That matters because the easiest version of this story would have Morgan spend seventeen minutes running away before Judgment Day saved her.
Instead, she fought Vaquer.
Then, when fighting Vaquer stopped being enough, she cheated.
That is much more useful.
Morgan remains a champion you want to see finally cornered without an emergency exit. Vaquer remains the challenger who can reasonably claim she should already have the championship.
And WWE gets to carry all of this towards South America without giving away the conclusion in Birmingham.
Annoyingly sensible.
I still thought Vaquer was winning, though.
When Angel Wings landed and climbed toward the Vaquer Inferno, I was ready for it. Birmingham sounded ready for it. The geographical clues were practically flashing above the ring.
Instead, Roxanne Perez slid in a championship belt, and Liv Morgan escaped with the championship she had spent most of the evening looking increasingly likely to lose.
Decent match.
Good finish.
I got worked.
Wrestling can do worse things to you.
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