Once upon a time, in the smoky haze of late-90s cable TV, there existed a wrestling company so powerful, it almost put Vince McMahon and the WWF out of business. That company was World Championship Wrestling - better known as WCW, or as it came to be known in its later years, “Wheel Chair Wrestling”

WCW was originally a subsidiary of the NWA. The way it worked was that the NWA - National Wrestling Alliance - champions travelled around all of it’s member promotions. It was a sort of wrestling co-operative and worked well for many years. In the mid 90s, the still primarily old school southern rasslin’ WCW was given to young hot shot and former Pizza Hut executive Eric Bishoff. He signed lots of former WWF talents like Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, Jim Duggan, The Nasty Boys and more and started pre-taping shows months in advance to save money. He also kind of just did what he wanted with the NWA titles despite that not being how it was supposed to work which led to WCW leaving the Alliance and forging ahead on its own.

The NWO storyline - portraying new signees from the WWF Kevin Nash and Scott Hall as outsiders hell bent on taking over the company - captured fans attentions and emotions and joined by newly heel Hulk Hogan smashed rating, attendance and PPV records as millions of former fans tuned back into wrestling to see what was going on, and even many WWF fans to switch sides and follow these exciting developments.

At its peak, WCW had it all: Hulk Hogan with a villain phase, Sting cosplaying as The Crow, and more NWO shirts than actual wrestling matches. For 83 consecutive weeks, Monday Nitro beat Raw in the ratings. But as any wrestling fan knows, when you get too cocky in the ring - or on live television - karma hits harder than a steel chair.

So, what happened? How did WCW go from bodyslamming the competition to tapping out to its own bad booking?

The NWO

The New World Order started strong—Hogan turning heel was like seeing your grandpa join a biker gang—and it got better from there with Scott Hall and Kevin Nash dominating the rest of the card, but then everyone and their grandmother joined. At one point, half the locker room was in the NWO. There was NWO Red, NWO Black, NWO Silver, NWO Kids' Club. Even the janitor had a faction.

It got so crowded, you needed a spreadsheet just to figure out who was feuding with whom. By the end, the only new world order fans wanted was a new storyline. The simple fact is that Eric Bishoff’s greatest creative idea was also his downfall as he rehashed and leaned on it over and over and over again. A Nitro in 1996 looked exactly the same as a Nitro in 1998 and fans lost interest. 

Too Many Cooks spoiled the Booking

WCW’s creative meetings were less "brainstorming" and more "loud multi-person arguments" Wrestlers - especially Hulk Hogan -  had creative control in their contracts, which meant matches were booked like ego-driven choose-your-own-adventures.

"Okay, so I’ll win clean tonight—"
"Nope, brother, my contract says I pin you after 17 run-ins, 3 chair shots, and a mysterious man in a Sting mask."

Spoiler: it’s never Sting. It's never, ever actually Sting.

The biggest issue with this booking was that it kept the same handful of talents at the top of the card forever meaning all those young, talented cruiserweights and midcarders that the fans latched on to and were desperate to move up to the main event? They never did. Not until they left for the WWF anyway. 

David Arquette: Champion of Champions?

We can't talk about WCW’s downfall without discussing the moment they literally handed the belt to a Hollywood actor. In a plot twist no one asked for, David Arquette, star of Ready to Rumble, became WCW World Heavyweight Champion. Because when your ratings are falling, why not give the title to the guy who got third billing in Scream?

Some say it was a publicity stunt. Others say it was a cry for help. I’ll say it was the moment the belt tapped out and asked to be sent back to Ric Flair’s closet. 

In fairness to David, he is a lifelong wrestling fan - he still wrestles on indy shows in 2025 - and he knew fans would hate it but went along with Vince Russo’s plan because he wanted to help. All the money Arquette made from this stint was given to the families of Owen Hart and Darren Drozdov. What a lovely man.

Vince Russo

When Vince Russo took the reins, WCW became a live-action fever dream. Matches had more swerves than a Mario Kart track. Title changes happened during coffee breaks. And the phrase "worked shoot" was thrown around so much, nobody knew if anything was real—including the camera crew.

At one point, Russo himself became part of the storyline. Because nothing says “saving the company” like writing yourself into the show as a central figure. It’s like if the captain of the Titanic yelled, “Wait, I got this!” and grabbed the wheel after it hit the iceberg. He even made himself WCW World Champion, and booked himself to be a ladies man. 

Maybe I need to write a dedicated article about Russo himself one day because it’s hard to do the damage he did to wrestling justice. 

The Final Nail in the Coffin

By 2001, WCW was losing money faster than Goldberg could squash a jobber. The merger between parent company Time Warner and AOL meant that Ted Turner lost his full control and was finally overruled by the non-wrestling fans on the board who could no longer ignore the money the company was losing. They pulled the plug, and the WWF bought WCW for a price that wouldn't even buy you a WrestleMania ticket today. (I’m being facetious the the company was valued at $500 million in late 1999. Vince McMahon paid less than $2 million for it less than 18 months later).

And thus, the Monday Night Wars ended—not with a bang, but with a Shane McMahon promo.