John Cena
John Cena
John Cena
Survivor Series: WarGames
“The last time is near.”
6.5
2025
3h 14m
DramaComedy
Overview
WWE Survivor Series: WarGames 2025 was held on November 29, 2025, at Petco Park in San Diego, California, and featured the biggest Men’s WarGames match ever as Undisputed WWE Champion Cody Rhodes, WWE World Heavyweight Champion CM Punk, Roman Reigns, Jey Uso, and Jimmy Uso battled Brock Lesnar, Drew McIntyre, Logan Paul, Bron Breakker, and Bronson Reed inside two rings surrounded by a roofless cage. The event also included the final WWE Premium Live Event match of John Cena’s career, where the 17-time world champion and reigning Intercontinental Champion put his title on the line against Dominik Mysterio. The most star-studded Women’s WarGames match ever also took center stage, featuring AJ Lee, Charlotte Flair, Alexa Bliss, Rhea Ripley, and IYO SKY against Becky Lynch, WWE Women’s Tag Team Champions Asuka and Kairi Sane, Nia Jax, and Lash Legend. In addition, the event featured a WWE Women’s World Championship match where Stephanie Vaquer faced off against Nikki Bella for her title.
Sponsored
Cast
Dominik Mysterio
Dominik Gutiérrez
Dominik Mysterio
CM Punk
Phil Brooks
CM Punk
Roman Reigns
Joe Anoa'i
Roman Reigns
Cody Rhodes
Cody Rhodes
Cody Rhodes
Jey Uso
Joshua Fatu
Jey Uso
Jimmy Uso
Jonathan Solofa Fatu
Jimmy Uso
Paul Heyman
Paul Heyman
Paul Heyman
Brock Lesnar
Brock Lesnar
Brock Lesnar
Bron Breakker
Bronson Rechsteiner
Bron Breakker
Drew McIntyre
Andrew Galloway
Drew McIntyre
Bronson Reed
Jermaine Haley
Bronson Reed
Reviews
✦ AI-generated review
The Weight of the Cage
Think back to what the WarGames gimmick used to promise: blood, panic, and the possibility of real damage. WWE now stages it more like a giant premium attraction, some monstrous contraption built to impress shareholders and fans in equal measure. Saturday night's *Survivor Series: WarGames 2025* at Petco Park is part spectacle, part slog, and weirdly fascinating. I kept thinking about the engineering of it—two rings fused together under an open-air steel cage, ten people crammed into a structure that already tells the match how to breathe. You can almost hear the whole thing groan under its own design.
Suit Williams at *Voices of Wrestling* said the men's main event "had the energy of the middle-third of a bad Royal Rumble." Fair. Throw Roman Reigns, CM Punk, Cody Rhodes, and Brock Lesnar into one enclosure and their star power starts canceling itself out. Everybody waits around for the next signature beat instead of building a single clean story. And yet I was perversely drawn to the sprawl of it. It’s corporate crossover in its purest flesh-and-steel form. When a mystery masked man finally storms the cage and grinds Punk’s face into the canvas so Bron Breakker can take the pin, it doesn’t play like a cathartic ending. It feels like somebody mercifully cutting the power. The noise they create, though, is impossible to ignore.
But the heart of the night was outside the cage. John Cena wrestled his final Premium Live Event match, defending the Intercontinental Championship against Dominik Mysterio. Cena is 48 now. The jorts and sweatbands are still doing their nostalgic work, but the way he carries himself has changed. His shoulders sit heavier. That famous neck seems to sink a little deeper into him. He moves like an old gunslinger who knows the ammo count. Across from him, Mysterio is all nerves and opportunism, forever hunched, forever angling toward a shortcut or a referee to hide behind.
I couldn’t stop watching the last stretch of that match. They were in Mysterio’s hometown of San Diego, but the crowd clung to Cena anyway. After the ref bump—which is ancient pro-wrestling cheese, yes, but it worked—the entire Judgment Day crew flooded in to rescue Dominik. Cena actually tried to swat them all away. He even trapped Mysterio in the STF. Look at his hands in that hold: they clamp down with real desperation, as if the superhero act suddenly slipped and panic rushed through. Then Liv Morgan returned, slid into the ring, and hit the low blow that folded him on the spot. Mysterio followed with the frog splash and stole the title.
It’s an ugly way for a legend to leave. Good. Pro wrestling is meaner than we like to admit, and it should be. We love imagining our icons riding into the sunset. Instead Cena ends up flat on his back, staring into the lights while a smug kid walks off with the belt. Whether that feels cruel or correct probably depends on how much patience you have for wrestling’s built-in nastiness. I left the four-hour show worn out, annoyed by the overbooking, and still moved by that final picture of an era giving way. The cage comes apart. The ghosts don’t.
Think back to what the WarGames gimmick used to promise: blood, panic, and the possibility of real damage. WWE now stages it more like a giant premium attraction, some monstrous contraption built to impress shareholders and fans in equal measure. Saturday night's *Survivor Series: WarGames 2025* at Petco Park is part spectacle, part slog, and weirdly fascinating. I kept thinking about the engineering of it—two rings fused together under an open-air steel cage, ten people crammed into a structure that already tells the match how to breathe. You can almost hear the whole thing groan under its own design.
Suit Williams at *Voices of Wrestling* said the men's main event "had the energy of the middle-third of a bad Royal Rumble." Fair. Throw Roman Reigns, CM Punk, Cody Rhodes, and Brock Lesnar into one enclosure and their star power starts canceling itself out. Everybody waits around for the next signature beat instead of building a single clean story. And yet I was perversely drawn to the sprawl of it. It’s corporate crossover in its purest flesh-and-steel form. When a mystery masked man finally storms the cage and grinds Punk’s face into the canvas so Bron Breakker can take the pin, it doesn’t play like a cathartic ending. It feels like somebody mercifully cutting the power. The noise they create, though, is impossible to ignore.
But the heart of the night was outside the cage. John Cena wrestled his final Premium Live Event match, defending the Intercontinental Championship against Dominik Mysterio. Cena is 48 now. The jorts and sweatbands are still doing their nostalgic work, but the way he carries himself has changed. His shoulders sit heavier. That famous neck seems to sink a little deeper into him. He moves like an old gunslinger who knows the ammo count. Across from him, Mysterio is all nerves and opportunism, forever hunched, forever angling toward a shortcut or a referee to hide behind.
I couldn’t stop watching the last stretch of that match. They were in Mysterio’s hometown of San Diego, but the crowd clung to Cena anyway. After the ref bump—which is ancient pro-wrestling cheese, yes, but it worked—the entire Judgment Day crew flooded in to rescue Dominik. Cena actually tried to swat them all away. He even trapped Mysterio in the STF. Look at his hands in that hold: they clamp down with real desperation, as if the superhero act suddenly slipped and panic rushed through. Then Liv Morgan returned, slid into the ring, and hit the low blow that folded him on the spot. Mysterio followed with the frog splash and stole the title.
It’s an ugly way for a legend to leave. Good. Pro wrestling is meaner than we like to admit, and it should be. We love imagining our icons riding into the sunset. Instead Cena ends up flat on his back, staring into the lights while a smug kid walks off with the belt. Whether that feels cruel or correct probably depends on how much patience you have for wrestling’s built-in nastiness. I left the four-hour show worn out, annoyed by the overbooking, and still moved by that final picture of an era giving way. The cage comes apart. The ghosts don’t.