WrestleMania sell-out leaves fans in the cold
WWE's flagship event will head to Saudi Arabia in 2027, leaving fans to wonder what they're cheering for.
I’m firmly aware of the niche and slightly cringeworthy nature of writing about professional wrestling, not least in the serious manner, away from the glitz and glamour in the ring, that I’m doing here for this week’s newsletter.
I am firmly aware a lot of you will cringe at the very topic and delete this email quicker than a spam email from a Nigerian prince in need. Some of you will undoubtedly unsubscribe (if you want an insight into the life of a newsletter writer, I get at least one unsubscription email within seconds of publishing every week.)
But stick with me here, because this is less a story about wrestling and more about how our sports and entertainment are once again being sold to the highest bidder, to the betterment of shareholder pockets and utter disregard of core fans. It’s a story we’ve seen in nearly every sport, whether it’s World Cups in football or some of golf’s best disappearing for months at a time behind a Saudi-funded blackhole.
Wrestling is no different and has been one of Saudi Arabia’s most successful laundering vehicles. And now they’ve gone and bought WrestleMania.
WWE’s headline event is also professional wrestling’s sacred cow. It was Vince McMahon’s moonshot gamble back in 1985, a pay-per-view spectacular that, if it failed, would have bankrupted the company. Instead, it changed the industry forever. Madison Square Garden, Hulk Hogan, Cyndi Lauper, Mr. T, wrestling quickly became a part of pop culture, and much akin to the NFL’s Super Bowl, the show became the cornerstone event of the entire industry, marked in the calendar annually, attended by thousands and often arching over into the mainstream.
Over the decades, it’s produced moments that even non-fans might recognise: Hulk slamming Andre. Stone Cold versus The Rock. Shawn Michaels ziplining from the rafters. Rock and Hogan. The Undertaker’s streak. For fans, WrestleMania weekend is a pilgrimage: 70,000-plus in a stadium, fan conventions in every hotel ballroom, smaller promotions riding the wave with shows across town.
It is a wrestling institution. Whatever your feeling about the current product, WrestleMania is a homing device for hardcore fans, those who’ve lapsed along the way and curious onlookers who chime in around the time of the show to see if it’s worth catching.
This week, WrestleMania’s 2027 edition was sold to Saudi Arabia for a rumoured $250million. To put that into context, according to Wrestlenomics, WWE has already generated $600million from its events in Saudi Arabia, while the total revenue from every WrestleMania ticket sale since 1985 has amounted to $400 million.
It’s the compaction of a relationship that began in 2018 and strengthens yearly with multiple shows in the Kingdom, as the wrestling entity becomes one of the country’s most successful and easiest sportswashing vehicles, while WWE eyes light up in the dollar signs that have been thrown at them.
WWE have staged several shows in Saudi Arabia, generally branded “B-shows” like Crown Jewel, Night of Champions or the aptly named Greatest Royal Rumble. They’ve been lavish, pyrotechnic-heavy spectacles that earned the company obscene amounts of money, but not without being mired in controversy.
For example, up until recently, the extremely popular Sami Zayn wasn’t permitted to appear in Saudi due to his Syrian heritage. WWE's women wrestlers have only appeared at the shows since 2019, under heavy restrictions including what they can wear in the ring.
For years, big names like Daniel Bryan and John Cena refused to perform there, while Kevin Owens, out of solidarity with his friend, Zayn, also refused to do a Saudi show until finally appearing there last year.
Famously, CM Punk, who at the time was out of the industry, sent a 2020 tweet aimed at WWE wrestler The Miz, telling him to “go suck a blood money covered dick in Saudi Arabia you fucking dork”. He has since returned to WWE and earlier this year apologised for the tweet, claiming he was in a “crabby mood” and duly wrestled John Cena in Riyadh.
As well as that, the 2018 Crown Jewel event went ahead just days after journalist Jamal Khashoggi was murdered in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul.
Until now, these shows were generally treated as extra content, glossy and disposable with quick run-off storylines that didn’t intersect with their larger shows such as SummerSlam, the original Royal Rumble or indeed WrestleMania. No one considered them canon. They were, bluntly, PR exercises.
But moving WrestleMania to Saudi Arabia isn’t simply adding an extra date to the calendar, it is rewriting the very DNA of professional wrestling. To put it into a bit more context, WrestleMania is the finale of often months or even years long storylines. The culmination of feuds and disputes that fans have watched and been invested in in the weekly shows, hoping for the fairytale ending that rounds off a successful storyline. Now, that entire thread throughout 2026 and into 2027 will be qualified with the fact that the show will be in Saudi Arabia.
Not at arm’s reach, like in traditional wrestling cities such as Chicago or Philadelphia, or even in Europe where wrestling fandom thrives. It’s another blow having seen the 2026 edition of the Royal Rumble also aim for Riyadh, one of WWE’s marquee and most fondly watched events, packed with nostalgia and novelty.
Saudi Arabia’s sudden obsession with sport has been well established at this point. Football has been flooded with Saudi money. The Public Investment Fund owns Newcastle United. LIV Golf tore up the PGA Tour. Anthony Joshua and Tyson Fury have boxed under Riyadh’s desert lights.
On Monday night, Tom Brady announced that he will be coming out of retirement to play in a flag football game held in Saudi Arabia next year, along with a slew of current and ex pros. Brady is partnering with Turki Alalshikh, chairman of the Saudi General Entertainment Authority, to promote the event. Fox Sports will televise the tournament, and comedian Kevin Hart will be the host.
By hosting these types of events, airing them across the world and stuffing the pockets of famous faces like Hart and Brady, the Kingdom clinically and successfully launders its global image. And what bigger entertainment spectacle to add to their roster than WrestleMania, viewed worldwide by millions?
You can argue boxing and golf are already nomadic. Even football clubs are playthings for oligarchs and states. But WrestleMania has always been rooted in its fan access, in thriving local economies for a week on fan tourism, while wrestling conventions and indie wrestling shows in the host city provide retired wrestlers and young performers a momentary chance to shine in front of a new audience. Not only that, but a ticket to WrestleMania is a badge of honour for lifelong fans.
Shifting it to Riyadh collapses that. Would hardcore fans really travel there? Will the local audience match the atmosphere and devotion of a Philly, New Orleans, or even London crowd? Would the indie ecosystem that makes Mania weekend special even exist in Saudi?
At best, it becomes a TV product, far from the cultural experience it currently serves across the industry.
Of course, there’s major financial incentive to the move. The company is no longer McMahon’s personal fiefdom. It’s part of TKO, a corporate hybrid with UFC under Endeavor’s banner. TKO’s job is not to preserve cultural legacy but to maximise shareholder value.
What Riyadh can offer dwarfs that of a Las Vegas or New York. But there is a trade-off: you can only sell your soul once. After that, everyone knows you’ll sell it again. The fan reaction has already been overwhelmingly negative, with fans chanting “you sold out” at an event at the weekend.
It proves beyond doubt that everything, no matter how iconic, has a price tag. Even for European fans, who have been begging for a WrestleMania to come to their way and have sold out venues and stadiums across the continent for years, are utterly bereft that a WrestleMania event bypasses them for Saudi.
Sure, 2027 is a long time away and wrestling fans tend to be fickle with their fandom, especially in an industry loaded with grimy characters and where someone like Brock Lesnar can be named in a sex trafficking case fronted by WWE’s previous owner and yet make a hero’s return when the heat has eased off.
But it even more alienates the very base that’s kept WWE alive through bad storylines, steroid scandals, and Vince’s missteps. For sport more broadly, it’s another domino in the fall in the creeping normalisation of authoritarian regimes buying cultural legitimacy through sports and entertainment. This year WrestleMania, next year the Super Bowl?
When WrestleMania lands in Riyadh, it won’t matter how well stories are concluded, how much pyro lights the desert sky or how many billions change hands. It will be remembered as the moment wrestling’s greatest stage was sold off as a pawn, proof that no institution, no matter how sacred, is safe.