Each week, professional wrestling asks its performers to transform athletic spectacle into something resembling human drama — and on a mid-May Friday in South Carolina, WWE's SmackDown offered a reminder that the distance between compelling storytelling and mere motion can be measured in a single evening. Some wrestlers found the thread of meaning; others moved through their paces without it. The show neither failed nor fully succeeded, which may be the most honest verdict a weekly television product can receive.
WWE SmackDown Delivers Mixed Results Post-Backlash With Strong Mid-Card Performances
The match existed. It happened. The crowd loved Williams.
Mark
Why does a hometown show like Trick Williams' opening feel like it falls apart so quickly?
Mimi
Because celebrity guests and local references can only carry so much weight. Once The Miz and Kit Wilson showed up, the segment needed real conflict or real comedy. It got neither. Williams is over because he's charismatic, not because Lil Yachty is there.
Mark
But Hayes and Saints—two guys who'd never wrestled before—looked like they'd been working together for months. How does that happen?
Mimi
Both of them wanted to prove something. They had something to gain. When wrestlers are hungry and skilled, chemistry happens fast. They didn't need a story yet. They just needed to show they belonged.
Mark
The women's matches seemed to struggle more than the men's matches. Is that a booking problem or a roster problem?
Mimi
It's a structure problem. B-Fab is less experienced than everyone she's wrestling. That's not her fault. But when you put her in the ring with Charlotte Flair and Alexa Bliss, the gap shows. The match needs to be built around what she can do, not what she can't.
Mark
Gunther and Keys at the end—that felt different from everything else.
Mimi
Because it had a purpose. Cody set up a simple scene. Gunther made a demand. Keys challenged him. The GM made a match. No wasted time. No jokes that don't land. Just forward momentum.
Mark
So what's the actual problem with SmackDown right now?
Mimi
It's inconsistent. You get Hayes versus Saints and you remember why wrestling matters. Then you get three segments in a row that feel obligatory. The show doesn't know if it's trying to be entertaining or just filling time.
The Pulse
- Trick Williams deserved a homecoming worthy of a champion, but the segment collapsed under the weight of slam poetry, a miscast celebrity, and opponents who felt more like inconveniences than threats.
- Carmelo Hayes and Ricky Saints arrived as strangers and left as a revelation — their debut encounter crackled with instinctive chemistry and a finish that rewarded close attention.
- Damian Priest and Tama Tonga brought physicality but lost momentum in the back half, leaving a post-match beatdown to carry narrative weight the match itself couldn't sustain.
- The women's division flickered with potential — a tension between Giulia and Kiana James hinted at a more interesting story than the one being told — while a second tag match never found its footing.
- Cody Rhodes, Gunther, and Royce Keys delivered the night's most efficient storytelling, turning a contract signing into a main event and giving SmackDown a strong final impression it hadn't fully earned.
Each week, professional wrestling asks its performers to transform athletic spectacle into something resembling human drama — and on a mid-May Friday in South Carolina, WWE's SmackDown offered a reminder that the distance between compelling storytelling and mere motion can be measured in a single evening. Some wrestlers found the thread of meaning; others moved through their paces without it. The show neither failed nor fully succeeded, which may be the most honest verdict a weekly television product can receive.
WWE's Friday night show in mid-May landed somewhere between forgettable and functional. Trick Williams opened in his hometown of South Carolina with rapper Lil Yachty and the university mascot alongside him — a homecoming with genuine warmth underneath it. But when The Miz and Kit Wilson arrived, the segment unraveled. Wilson performed slam poetry. Yachty freestyled back. The jokes didn't land. Williams survived it all on charisma alone, then beat Miz in an impromptu match that followed — serviceable, crowd-pleasing, but never the showcase a United States champion deserves.
The show found its best work when Carmelo Hayes and Ricky Saints collided for the first time. Despite never having shared a ring before, they moved together with rare instinct — Saints as a cunning antagonist, Hayes as a high-flying crowd favorite. The finish was clever: Hayes caught Saints cheating on a pin attempt, then stole the victory the same way. It was the kind of match that reminds you why wrestling can matter.
Damian Priest and Tama Tonga had their moments — a well-timed counter, genuine physicality — but the match dragged before Priest closed it with his South of Heaven clothesline. A post-match attack kept the story breathing without adding much new to it. In the women's division, a tag match between Paige and Brie Bella against Giulia and Kiana James was competent but unremarkable, with the more interesting story appearing to simmer between James and Giulia themselves. A second women's tag match never found its rhythm, ending in a disqualification that gave the segment more purpose than the wrestling had.
The night's sharpest moment came late: Cody Rhodes placed a table and chairs in the ring, demanding Gunther sign for a title match. Gunther asked for respect. Royce Keys volunteered to sign instead. General manager Nick Aldis turned it into a number one contender's match on the spot. Three men, no wasted motion. Keys and Gunther delivered in the main event, giving SmackDown a finish stronger than the evening had earned. The gap between the show's peaks and its valleys, though, remained the real story — and it keeps widening.
WWE's Friday night show in mid-May landed somewhere between forgettable and functional—the kind of television that moves bodies through the arena but leaves you wondering what you actually watched.
Trick Williams, the United States champion, opened the show at his hometown University of South Carolina with rapper Lil Yachty and the school mascot in tow. The segment had the bones of a feel-good homecoming: Williams explained the origin of his signature move, the lemon pepper steppers, and worked the crowd with local references. Then The Miz and Kit Wilson arrived to interrupt, and the whole thing began to collapse. Wilson performed slam poetry. Yachty countered with freestyle rap. The jokes didn't land. By the time a brawl broke out, both Miz and Wilson looked less like credible threats and more like obstacles. Williams carried the segment on pure charisma—Yachty's presence neither helped nor hurt him, which is perhaps the kindest thing that could be said about the pairing.
Williams faced Miz in an impromptu match that followed. For a United States champion, he deserved better. The Miz controlled stretches through cheap tactics and interference from Wilson. Williams mounted comebacks, Yachty retrieved a stolen kendo stick and used it on Wilson, and eventually Williams finished things with his Trick Shot finisher. The match existed. It happened. The crowd loved Williams. But the bout itself felt like an obligation rather than a showcase for the champion's abilities.
Later, Carmelo Hayes and Ricky Saints collided in what became the show's strongest work. These two had never shared a ring before, yet they moved together with the kind of chemistry that takes most teams weeks to develop. Saints played a cunning antagonist. Hayes had the crowd invested in his high-flying offense. Both men clearly wanted to make an impression, and they did. The finish came when Hayes caught Saints trying to use the ropes for leverage on a pin—then Hayes got away with the same trick to steal the victory. It was the kind of match that made you sit up and pay attention, the kind that reminded you why wrestling can be compelling.
Damian Priest faced Tama Tonga in a physical encounter that should have been a tag team match before R-Truth was ruled out. Tonga tried to ambush Priest before the bell, but the former world champion wouldn't be caught off guard. The match had its moments—a nice counter into a sleeper hold, some solid physicality—but it dragged in the second half. Priest won with his South of Heaven clothesline. Talla Tonga and Solo Sikoa attacked him afterward, keeping the story alive but adding little new texture.
In the women's division, Paige and Brie Bella defeated Giulia and Kiana James in a non-title tag match. Giulia and James bumped harder and sold more aggressively, but Paige finished things with the Rampage DDT. The match was competent. The real story seemed to be brewing between James and Giulia themselves—a hint of tension that proved more interesting than the bout itself. Later, Michin and B-Fab faced Charlotte Flair and Alexa Bliss in a clunky affair that never found its rhythm. B-Fab's relative inexperience showed whenever she was the legal wrestler. Jade Cargill caused a disqualification by attacking Bliss, which at least gave the segment a purpose beyond the match itself.
The show's strongest segment came when Cody Rhodes set up a table and chairs in the ring, demanding that Gunther sign a contract for a title shot. Gunther arrived and asked Rhodes to show respect, to say please. Royce Keys came out and offered to sign instead. Gunther stopped him. Nick Aldis, the general manager, booked Keys versus Gunther as a number one contender's match on the spot. It was efficient storytelling—three men doing their jobs without wasting time, building intrigue for what came next.
Keys and Gunther delivered in that main event slot, providing the show with a strong finish after hours of uneven wrestling. But the night's real problem was consistency. Hayes and Saints proved that SmackDown could produce compelling television. Priest and Tonga showed physical wrestling could work. Yet segments like Williams' opening and the women's tag match felt like filler, like the show was going through motions between the moments that mattered. For a brand that should be the stronger of WWE's two main shows, that gap between peaks and valleys keeps widening.
Notable Quotes
Gunther asked Cody Rhodes to show respect and say please before signing the contract— Gunther
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