In case the headline doesn’t give it away, the winner of the prestigious second annual Golden Schwartz award is WWE’s Drew McIntyre.
Cue trumpets.
Or maybe bagpipes, followed by a drum-line and a killer electric guitar riff that reminds me of the old Doctor Who theme.
The Golden Schwartz goes to the performer whose work I enjoyed most for the past year; last year, it was MJF. It is totally subject to my biases, so if you’re surprised that heels have won two years in a row, don’t be.
McIntyre wins not only for his flawless heel work but because he’s challenged one of my core beliefs about pro wrestling: the idea that titles matter. I’ll get to that part later.
For now, it’s enough to say that through the end of 2024 and an on-and-off feud with Seth Rollins and CM Punk, McIntyre has played a central role in some of the best long-form wrestling storylines going — with only tangential involvement from the Anoa’i-Fatu clan. McIntyre has built on a three-way feud which goes back at least as far as Punk’s WWE return at last year’s Survivor Series. Working off a great in-ring talent like Rollins and a legendary talker like Punk, McIntyre has carried a complex rivalry with blistering promos, worked-shoot social media posts and Big Bad level violence. Throughout this program McIntyre exemplified my favorite type of bad guy — the villain who thinks he is a hero, and who ‘breaks bad’ because he justifiably feels betrayed by the fans.
McIntyre comes by the Golden Schwartz honestly. He has spent most of his career as a heel. He was brought into WWE as a preening pretty boy, anointed by then-WWE head Vince McMahon as the ‘chosen one’. As gimmicks go it was a kiss of death. McIntyre was a capable heel but didn’t need the expectations freighted on him by Mr. McMahon. He never delivered on what should have been a presumptive main-event gimmick and was released within a few years.
McIntyre spent his last several months in WWE as part of the comedy rock and roll themed 3MB stable alongside Heath Slater and fellow world champion Jinder Mahal. 3MB was the sort of silly, last chance gimmick that many failed WWE experiments endure shortly before being future endeavored — like Lord Tensai as Sweet T alongside Brodus Clay, or Adam Rose’s Social Rejects stable. I remember 3MB acquiring a goofy kind of popularity — the kind of organic reaction that might not lead to championships directly, but that could have been molded into something more serious over time if management had been interested. As it happens, they weren’t, which is probably for the best.
McIntyre left WWE in 2014. He spent the next three years barnstorming the US and European independent wrestling scenes, growing as a performer in his efforts to get back to the big time. McIntyre debuted for TNA/Impact Wrestling under his real name, Drew Galloway. In TNA he honed the more serious, violent character that we see today. Early in this run, McIntyre formed a stable known as “The Rising” alongside the current LA Knight and Tanga Loa. On March 15, 2016, he won the TNA World Heavyweight championship, his first official world title. He held that championship for a shade under three months, losing to Bobby Lashley in a match that kicked off a feud with EC3.
By April 2017, McIntyre was back in WWE, featured ringside during an NXT Takeover broadcast. He left WWE a kid but came back as a man — and a dangerous one at that. McIntyre was a different performer than the ‘chosen one man rock band’ who’d left three years earlier. His physique filled out and he learned how to engage the audience as a babyface or a heel. He debuted in NXT as a fan favorite and within four months collected the NXT championship from Bobby Roode. This title reign would also end after about three months, but bigger things lay in store.
I have thoroughly enjoyed McIntyre’s entire main roster run. He rejoined WWE’s mainstream as a stone-cold ‘Scottish Psychopath’, backing up Dolph Ziggler in one of Ziggler’s last serious pushes in WWE. This heel run culminated with a match against Roman Reigns at WrestleMania 35 — which marked Reigns’ own return to action after a bout with leukemia. McIntyre dominated the match and played monster heel to try to get Reigns over as a babyface. Life and booking had other plans for both men. Over the next few months, McIntyre shaded his character with humor as he transitioned into a babyface.
McIntyre’s WWE turns are notable for their slow burn quality, which gives him an air of reality. I can think of a few instances where my mind has been changed on a subject immediately. I remember one conversation in high school that gave me a new understanding on social issues, which led to a more liberal view of the world. But most of my views have evolved over time, with education and experience. Within the breakneck pace of WWE storytelling, McIntyre’s more considered development makes him more human and thus more sympathetic — even as a heel.
In any case, McIntyre cemented his babyface turn between a Royal Rumble victory and a WrestleMania main event against Brock Lesnar.
As a good guy McIntyre captured two RAW-brand WWE Championships totaling almost a year.
McIntyre’s babyface championship runs bear a pandemic asterisk — which would become part of the motivation behind his heel turn. McIntyre was a fighting champion without an audience. He won the WWE Championship from Brock Lesnar in an empty Performance Centre and defended it immediately after against the Big Show — a match that even WWE seems to have forgotten. He lost the title to The Miz of all people before an empty Thunderdome. Miz transitioned the title two weeks later to Bobby Lashley, who defended the title against McIntyre at WrestleMania 37 then lost the belt back to Lesnar. Babyface McIntyre was old news; a forgettable opener against Lashley excluded McIntyre from the world title scene. By the time COVID restrictions were completely lifted, McIntyre was ignored in favor of the umpteenth chapter of Lesnar vs. Reigns.
In real life, McIntyre lost out on the perks of being champion: the thunderous arena pops; the mainstream media exposure and talk show appearances; the house show percentages and merchandise sales. He was a paper champion, though not of his own design.
As a babyface titlist and later contender, McIntyre was stuck. Wrestling heroes may be dim, but they’re men of action who are supposed to accept that they may live to fight another day. Lesnar and Reigns’ God-tier booking made McIntyre and most of the roster also-rans.
As with his babyface turn, I couldn’t tell you when McIntyre became a true heel. Wikipedia pegs it around September 2023. McIntyre began behaving ‘selfishly’ in matches, neglecting opportunities to save faces in peril. In a nod to continuity, he rejected Jey Uso’s attempts at friendship, citing the title opportunities that the Bloodline had cost him. Enmity with Seth Rollins and hostility towards Uso led McIntyre to join the Judgment Day at the 2023 War Games match at Survivor Series. That match laid the foundation for McIntyre’s phenomenal 2024 run: it advanced his program with Rollins, which resulted in McIntyre’s third, abortive WWE championship, which he lost thanks to CM Punk — who debuted at Survivor Series to Rollins’ and McIntyre’s clear consternation.
McIntyre began speaking at length about the unfairness of his babyface title runs; how Rollins and Punk (who has often been cast as a heel outside the ring by those who dislike him personally) ruined title opportunity after title opportunity. He lashed out at his opponents for their actions, and at WWE storyline management for their failure to maintain order.
McIntyre was eliminated from the 2024 Royal Rumble by Punk, but not before legitimately injuring Punk’s triceps (which kept Punk out of an official WrestleMania match). That injury enhanced the feud between the two men, even if it meant a physical resolution of their conflict had to wait. Segments where the two men argued in-ring were worked-shoot triumphs. McIntyre often got the best of Punk on the mic — adding a layer or callous, mocking dark humor to his growing self-righteousness. McIntyre got his chance to compete for the RAW title by winning February’s Elimination Chamber main event, then beat Rollins in the WrestleMania XL Night Two opener to regain his title — as a heel — before the crowd that was denied him as a babyface. McIntyre’s singular pursuit of the title and the audience recognition that came with it was short-lived. McIntyre went to gloat over CM Punk, who was seated at the announce table. Punk hit McIntyre with the brace he wore over his injured triceps, and Priest capitalized for his own WrestleMania moment. Drew’s belief in how he was wronged as champion made him a sympathetic, rounded heel — even as he descended into savagery in pursuit of his goal.
McIntyre’s championship obsession and moral justification should be enough to warrant the Golden Schwartz. But that’s not why he gets the nod this year over close competitors like Dominik Mysterio (who seems like a shoe-in at some point) or Rhea Ripley (who would have won but for extended time off due to injury and a babyface turn that now feels a bit directionless). His extended feud with Punk, ultimately over a much less valuable accessory, made him the most compelling performer of the year.
Wrestling fans often argue about the importance of championships. I used to think these arguments were silly. Titles matter within storylines and outside the bubble of pro wrestling fandom. Show me a wrestler appearing on a talk show and I’ll show you the belt they bring along for the occasion. They are essential to pro wrestling’s presentation as a competition. Real or imagined, there must always be some prize to fight for — a shiny belt or trophy or mirrored disco ball. Without a championship goal, wrestling becomes Real Housewives-style reality television, where a missed brunch date is as catastrophic as Hulk Hogan failing to answer Paul Orndorff’s phone call. Wrestling’s best feuds may divert performers from their championship pursuits, but like Orndorff and Hogan, hurt feelings turn into opportunistic hatred. Taking a beloved champion’s title doesn’t just mean lifting ten pounds of gold (and the hefty paycheck that supposedly comes with it), it means inflicting an emotional wound on the champion by taking that which he or she holds most dear.
Some wrestling insiders dismiss titles as MacGuffins. Vince Russo is mostly dismissive of them. Vince McMahon made the point repeatedly in his Netflix documentary, and justified his poor treatment of Wendi Richter and Bret Hart by saying they merely held on to props that Vince owned. Vince wasn’t so cavalier when another former champion, Madusa Miceli / Alundra Blayze, threw her women’s belt in the trash on WCW’s Monday Nitro.
Disgruntled former WWE wrestlers claim Vince used the title as an inducement to get talent to sign with him. The record books show how rarely he made good on such promises. The WWE championship is valuable, if often counterfeit currency. Promises were allegedly made to everyone from Bad News Brown to William Regal to Ryback to Muhammad Hassan. The NWA title belt was a focal point of Ric Flair’s WWE debut. Before Flair ever appeared on WWE TV, he was preceded by Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan cradling the Big Gold Belt, proclaiming Flair the ‘Real World’s Champion’.
I still think Ted DiBiase pulled the greatest heel move in history when, having failed to unseat Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage, he named himself “Million Dollar Champion” and commissioned his own title belt. It’s a gimmick that has been reused occasionally. Taz appropriated the concept with his less flashy FTW championship in ECW. Zack Ryder tried to bring attention to himself during his faltering WWE run when he created the Internet championship. In wrestling, titles are so important that they create their own multiverses.
Or so I thought.
McIntyre’s greatest achievements this year straddle both sides of this debate. He spent the first part of the year in singular pursuit of the RAW version of the world title; he won the title but was cost it within minutes by Punk and Priest.
Post WrestleMania, McIntyre waged war against Punk with no title on the line. McIntyre carried that feud in the ring (which is fair, Punk is in his late 40s, and at this point liable to be injured at any time) and on the microphone, which was traditionally Punk’s strength. If I had been writing this column during Punk’s heyday, he would have definitely been a contender for the Golden Schwartz. Instead, he’s the supporting player in McIntyre’s story.
The absolute hatred McIntyre held for Punk became symbolized by an act of petty theft.
Really petty.
A beaded bracelet like my eight-year-old daughter trades with her Swiftie friends became the focus of an epic ten-month feud. McIntyre beat Punk at SummerSlam due to Rollins’ interference (which may foreshadow Rollins’ own heel turn, which will keep the dynamic rolling into a second year). He lost to Punk in a pair of gimmick matches — a strap match at Bash in Berlin and Hell in the Cell at Bad Blood in October. McIntyre ‘lost’ this feud, but emerged from it even more dangerous than he was going in.
In between the latter two matches, McIntyre attacked Punk backstage and stole the bracelet off Punk’s wrist. Punk got it back — stealing what McIntyre rightfully stole. McIntyre retrieved the bracelet, then pulled it apart on RAW, stuffing Punk’s face with the beads. As far as pro wrestling’s mistreatment of jewelry goes, it was probably less valuable than the busted Rolex that featured in the Chris Jericho-Ric Flair-Shawn Michaels storyline, or the gold crucifix that Andre the Giant tore off Hulk Hogan. Like a real title belt, the bracelet came to symbolize more — it spoke to Punk’s devotion to his family.
Critics complain about the role the bracelet played in the Punk-McIntyre feud, but the fact that McIntyre — the antagonist — got it over so significantly that WWE started selling its’ own versions, speaks to just how effective he is as a heel.
Wrestling thrives on this sort of behavior. McIntyre used the bracelet as an instrument of torture. He incorporated it into increasingly sadistic violent escapades that helped suspend our disbelief. Rational people don’t behave like this — but McIntyre’s 2024 showcased his descent from rational, aggrieved competitor to the psychopath we were promised on his return to WWE. Along the way he made plastic beads as valuable as gold — and got his comeuppance when said beads were used in lieu of thumbtacks in a riff on a classic Mankind-Undertaker Hell in a Cell callback.
McIntyre returned to RAW on December 2, booting Sami Zayn into next week for his own proxy role in the Drew-Punk-Seth storyline.
I can’t wait to see what he will do next.
It may not be a belt or a bracelet, but Drew McIntyre deserves the Golden Schwartz.
TOP PHOTO: Drew McIntyre at WWE Saturday Night’s Main Event on Saturday, December 14, 2024, at the Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Uniondale, New York. Photo by George Tahinos, georgetahinos.smugmug.com
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