MJF is pushing back on the idea that pro wrestling’s biggest companies are separated by open hostility in the locker room. Addressing the sport’s ongoing “tribalism” debate, he maintains there isn’t bad blood between wrestlers across promotions and adds that performers aren’t backstage trashing their rivals.
In other words: the tension many fans feel online isn’t the reality inside the business.
Tribalism has loomed over modern wrestling as companies compete for ratings, talent, and attention. Social media amplifies every barb, and some wrestlers occasionally lean into sly or backhanded lines that seem to fuel the fire. That’s part of the game — pointed promos and competitive swagger have always been baked into wrestling — but MJF’s stance is a reminder to separate the performance from the person and the storyline from the workplace.
Why does this matter? Because the narrative around inter-company hostility colors how fans experience the product, and it shapes the broader conversation about the industry’s health. When the conversation hardens into “us vs. them,” nuance gets lost. Fans focus on dunk contests and engagement metrics instead of what’s happening bell to bell.
Inside the business, relationships are typically far more practical and collegial than online discourse suggests. Wrestlers often share training backgrounds, agents, and years on the same independent loops. Careers are long, rosters change, and free agency is real. The person across the ring today might be a stablemate tomorrow. Most performers understand that a strong industry with multiple thriving promotions benefits everyone — more jobs, more leverage, more creativity. That’s an incentive to keep competition professional.
From a fan standpoint, MJF’s view encourages a healthier equilibrium. Enjoy the rivalries, the meta references, and the scoreboard keeping, but remember the performers are co-workers in the same line of work, not combatants in a personal feud. The friction that does exist is usually confined to creative direction, business negotiation, or storyline positioning — not some blanket resentment of anyone wearing the other brand’s colors.
There’s also a clear business angle. Broad negativity and public hostility can spook sponsors, muddy PR cycles, and distract from what promotions actually want to sell: compelling TV, memorable pay-per-views, and live events that feel like must-see experiences. When major voices within the industry say the locker rooms aren’t warring, it helps re-center the story on the shows themselves. For fans, that means evaluating cards and characters on their merits rather than on the latest viral slight or perceived corporate allegiance.
That doesn’t mean the product should turn bland. Rivalries between companies, subtle digs on the microphone, and pointed lines in interviews can all be valuable seasoning. They make the sport feel alive and competitive. The key is understanding that these moments serve entertainment and marketing ends, not personal vendettas. MJF’s message underscores that line: have fun with the noise, but don’t mistake hype for hate.
It’s also worth noting the current generation grew up with unprecedented access to behind-the-scenes information. Fans track contracts, learn insider jargon, and scrutinize backstage reports every week. That transparency can be great for engagement, but it also creates a feedback loop where innocuous comments get spun as evidence of deep divides. MJF’s position suggests the reality is simpler — most wrestlers are too busy protecting their bodies, refining their craft, and planning the next big moment to waste energy trashing people who might be future colleagues.
For AEW, WWE, and the wider ecosystem including NXT and Impact, cooling the temperature benefits everyone. It frees performers to take bigger swings without sparking needless fan skirmishes. It gives bookers room to adjust plans without the discourse turning into brand warfare. Most importantly, it keeps the conversation where it belongs: on the angles being built, the crowds responding, and the in-ring stories that hook viewers week to week.
Fans should expect the usual jabs to continue — that’s wrestling. But take them for what they are: tools to sell matches, boost segments, and build identity. If the people in the ring can be fiercely competitive and still share respect across the aisle, audiences can mirror that energy from the seats and the timeline.
MJF’s stance won’t immediately end tribal thinking. It does, however, offer a useful reset. If one of the industry’s most talked-about stars sees no real animosity between the locker rooms, that’s a signal worth considering. It doesn’t diminish the stakes on television. It simply reframes them, encouraging fans to back their favorites without turning support into hostility.
As the calendar moves toward the next wave of marquee events, that perspective could pay dividends. Hot crowds, sharp promos, and high-level matches — that’s the currency that grows audiences. Less mud-slinging and more show-stealing only helps. Wrestlers know it. Promotions know it. And if fans take their cue from MJF here, the discourse can be as competitive as ever without becoming corrosive.
The takeaway is straightforward: the rivalry belongs on your screen. Behind it, the business runs on professionalism, opportunity, and shared respect. That’s not just good PR — it’s how a healthy, growing industry looks. If there’s no bad blood in the rooms where the work gets done, there’s no reason for fans to invent it online.
