Betrayal, rivalry, and the Montreal Screwjob that redefined pro wrestling’s reality

The air was thick with anticipation and unspoken tension. The stage had been set for two champions to collide—a clash of legacies, honour, and ambition. On one side stood Bret Hart, the purveyor of integrity and the heart and soul of WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) in a post-Hulk Hogan era. On the other, his rival Shawn Michaels, a showman whose charisma was undeniable but whose methods were murkier.  

When this fight was over, the foundation of decades of tradition—and the sacrifices of many wrestling legends to create a long illusion—would be shattered, and the art of professional wrestling would never be the same.

A disclaimer

Before we go any further, let’s acknowledge that the very idea of a scripted sport or taking it this seriously elicits eye rolls in some.  

Those folks might even be tempted to use the dreaded 'f-word', but if you do, please know you’re not enlightening or insulting the wrestling fan in your life. 

For decades, wrestling fans have been mocked for loving a “fake” sport, but this critique misses the point entirely: Wrestling isn’t about deception. It’s about inviting the audience into a shared spectacle. At its heart lies kayfabe, the art of suspending disbelief to blur reality and performance.

The athleticism is real, but the magic comes from the collaborative storytelling between wrestlers and fans. Just as no one believes Hamilton is a historical fact or that Tom Holland is truly your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, wrestling fans know the Undertaker isn’t a zombie.  

Yet unlike a Broadway play, where the ending is set in stone, wrestling is dynamic. Audience reactions shape who rises to stardom, who wins titles, and who fades into obscurity. The worst fate for a wrestler isn’t boos, but indifference. 

This interplay makes wrestling a uniquely immersive art form—the audience becomes part of the reality of its fictional world. Fans don’t just watch the show; they help create it, building a world that feels real because we choose to make it so.

Pro wrestling is a culture that thrives on spectacle, deception, and shared experiences. It’s an art form with roots in carnival side shows and uses the con man term of "marks" to describe its loyal fanbase. But wrestling audiences are far from gullible fools being conned; we’re in on the con. 

In the early days of regional wrestling territories, kayfabe was a closely guarded secret. As wrestling evolved into mainstream entertainment in the 1980s, our suspension of disbelief became an unspoken pact between performers and fans. But after that night in Montreal in 1997, everything changed.

The infamous Montreal Screwjob in 1997 wasn’t just a wrestling controversy—it was a turning point in the art form, a night where the lines between reality and fiction blurred forever. 

A place among the greats

Montreal has long been a legendary wrestling city, alongside other historic wrestling hubs like Chicago and Philadelphia. The “smart crowds” found in these cities are more than just passionate—they are deeply informed and unafraid to assert themselves. Smart crowds know how to play along with the performance and enhance the drama, but they can also completely disrupt it, leaving an indelible mark on wrestling history. 

Consider Chicago, where CM Punk’s iconic WWE Championship win in 2011 became more than just a scripted victory—it was a moment of pure electricity, fueled by a raucous crowd that elevated a wrestling match into a cultural phenomenon. Or Philadelphia, the birthplace of ECW, a company defined by its gritty, no-holds-barred fanbase. Philly’s reputation as a wrestling town only grew with moments like the 2015 Royal Rumble, where Roman Reigns, presented as the next white meat babyface in the vein of John Cena, was loudly rejected by fans, exposing the limits of WWE’s narrative control.

Even Dwyane “The Rock” Johnson, the world’s biggest movie star, couldn’t overcome the power of the crowd. Last year, his surprise return on the road to WrestleMania was derailed when fans vehemently rejected his placement in the main event, forcing WWE to rewrite its biggest storyline to keep grassroots hero Cody Rhodes in the spotlight. Imagine another medium where a billion-dollar company would have to rewrite its series finale live because the audience refused to play along. 

Montreal fits perfectly into this lineage of influential wrestling cities. The infamous Montreal Screwjob in 1997 wasn’t just a wrestling controversy—it was a turning point in the art form, a night where the lines between reality and fiction blurred forever. 

A perfect storm of history and emotion

On November 7, 1997, in Montreal’s Molson Centre, the Canadian hero revered as a national treasure Bret Hart stood across the ring from Shawn Michaels, his real-life rival.

Their animosity wasn’t just a storyline—it was deeply personal, shaped by years of backstage clashes. Adding fuel to the fire, Bret was caught in a real-life heated contract dispute with WWE. In 1996, Bret had signed an unprecedented 20-year deal with WWE, but the company sought to back out of the agreement. Feeling betrayed, Bret negotiated a better offer with rival promotion WCW, ultimately making the difficult decision to finish his career with WWE after a bitter contract negotiation. 

Tradition dictated that Bret, as the departing champion, would ‘do the job’ and lose his title before leaving. This would effectively ‘put over’ Shawn Michaels as the new head of the company. However, for Bret, losing in front of his Canadian fans in his home country was unthinkable. 

In the live, high-stakes environment of professional wrestling, with millions watching on pay-per-view, Bret’s decision to refuse the script was seen as a risk to the show itself.

This wasn’t a storyline twist, but a real-life betrayal played out in the ring. Whether Bret or Vince were justified remains hotly debated, but what’s undeniable is how this moment shattered kayfabe forever.

One of the most talked-about moments in pro wrestling history

Hart’s refusal to follow the script led to a behind-the-scenes betrayal: then-WWE Chairman Vince McMahon, determined to protect his company, orchestrated a shocking finish: In the live, high-stakes environment of professional wrestling, with millions watching on pay-per-view, Bret’s decision to refuse the script was seen as a risk to the show itself.

Vince made the gut-wrenching decision to double-cross Bret to maintain control and protect the company’s reputation. Without Bret’s consent, the referee called for the bell while Michaels held him in a submission, awarding the match—and the title—to Michaels. 

What made this moment so impactful wasn’t just the betrayal itself, but the setting. In Montreal, before an audience that idolized Bret, Vince’s double-cross felt like a personal affront to every fan in the building. The crowd’s stunned reaction—part outrage, part heartbreak—cemented the Screwjob as one of the most talked-about moments in pro wrestling history.

This wasn’t a storyline twist, but a real-life betrayal played out in the ring. Whether Bret or Vince were justified remains hotly debated, but what’s undeniable is how this moment shattered kayfabe forever.  

Wrestling had always thrived on the interplay between performance and audience, but the Screwjob crystallized this dynamic in a way that changed the art form.

An infamous night ingrained in pro wrestling’s marrow

Nearly three decades later, the industry is thriving in a new golden age defined by intricate storytelling, awe-inspiring athleticism, diverse international rosters, and a groundbreaking women’s division. Megastars like Bianca Belair and Rhea Ripley are now headlining major events that were once exclusively reserved for men. 

In January 2025, WWE took a monumental step by moving to Netflix after securing a record-breaking $5 billion deal. With sold-out arenas and unprecedented global reach, professional wrestling has never been more accessible to fans or more exciting. There has truly never been a better time to become part of this ever-evolving story. 

But wrestling isn’t just something to watch from your couch on a Monday night or during WWE’s next visit to the Bell Centre. Montreal’s wrestling legacy thrives in local independent promotions like the IWS (International Wrestling Syndicate), which helped launch the careers of hometown heroes Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens, who have ascended to the main event of WrestleMania itself. 

Today, Montrealers can watch a fun show and cheer on the stars of tomorrow, becoming part of pro wrestling’s unfolding story.