I went to NXT Deadline 2025 ready to rant.

I sat front row.

I sharpened the knives.

I prepared the venom.

And NXT had the audacity to give me a show that made sense.

From Oba Femi reminding everyone why he rules NXT, to Iron Survivor matches packed with babyfaces who refused to embarrass themselves, to storylines that actually paid off — this entire night was a personal attack on my negativity.

I spend this episode doing the only thing worse than complaining:

admitting the wrestling was good.

This is a Heel Club breakdown from ringside, fueled by sarcasm, bitterness, and the existential dread of realizing I had nothing to scream about.

Babyfaces got cheered.

Heels got respected.

Logic won.

I suffered.

If you’ve  ...