Copeland and Cage rewind the clock in London
Fourteen years is a long time to wait for a tag. On Sunday night at The O2 in London, Adam Copeland and Christian Cage stepped through the curtain together for the first time since 2011 and delivered a statement win in the opening bout of AEW Forbidden Door 2025. They beat Killswitch and Kip Sabian by pinfall in a brisk, physical 13-minute match that felt part reunion, part grudge therapy.
The finish was clean and emphatic. Copeland cut through a bloodied Kip Sabian with a spear in the closing stretch, and Cage slid over to make the cover. It was simple, sharp, and loud—the kind of end that tells you the old timing is still there, even if the relationship is complicated.
The pre-match story made the reunion even more charged. Earlier in the week, both men made it clear this was not a friendship tour. They said they were reuniting to deal with a shared problem, not to relive the past. That edge showed up early. Communication was off. Cage hesitated when Killswitch muscled into the ring. Copeland ended up taking the first long shift, eating the heavy shots and setting the pace while Cage stayed cautious on the apron.
Once the bell rang, though, instincts kicked in. The crowd came alive when Cage launched a running dive over the ringpost to the floor—one of the few truly wild bumps of the opener. Moments later, Copeland answered with a dropkick that sent Killswitch backward into the barricade, turning the ringside area into a tangle of bodies and camera cables. The rhythm returned, the gears clicked, and the match found its shape.
Sabian and Killswitch never found that same rhythm. Sabian kept barking orders, trying to run the game plan through sheer volume. Killswitch wanted none of it. After months of heat between him and Christian Cage during Cage’s leadership of The Matriarchy, the big man made it clear he wasn’t taking cues from anyone. That tension showed in the transitions—mistimed tags, missed double-teams, and a lot of side-eye in the corner.
The chaos wasn’t limited to the ring. “Mother Wayne” made her presence felt outside, stepping in front of Copeland during a brawl on the floor and later yanking Cage off the apron to cut off a tag. It bought Sabian and Killswitch pockets of control, but it didn’t bind the team together. If anything, it put more pressure on them to deliver under the lights.
The middle stretch was tight, with clear call-backs. Copeland and Cage threw in the double Impaler DDT for a near-fall that sent the building up. Before that, Copeland muscled Killswitch off the ropes with a powerbomb and Cage followed with a diving headbutt—two veterans stacking offense to chop down the biggest man in the match. For a second, it looked like the ref’s hand would hit the mat for three.
Referee Bryce Remsburg changed that moment. He waved off the pin because Sabian had made a blind tag right before the sequence. Sabian slid in behind Cage with a schoolboy and nearly stole it. The near-fall was tight enough to draw gasps—textbook opportunism that almost flipped the story on its head. But “almost” doesn’t win openers in London.
From there, the pace snapped. Killswitch charged and ate the ringpost. Sabian swung big and missed. Copeland lined him up and hit the spear flush. Cage, seeing the opening, pounced on the cover. Three slaps. Bell. The hug after the match said the quiet part out loud. They still don’t have to be friends to be great together.
It’s easy to forget how much history walked down that ramp. Copeland and Cage built their names in an era defined by ladders, tables, and chaos. They were multiple-time world tag champions long before AEW existed, and their signature teamwork—quick tags, double strikes, timing under stress—was the engine behind some of the most rewound tag matches of the 2000s. Sunday showed that the muscle memory isn’t gone. It’s just buried under years of separate roads and old grudges.
On the other side of the ring, Killswitch’s return was a story by itself. Wrestling for the first time in nearly a year after a serious bout with pneumonia that put him in the hospital in late 2024, he looked bigger than everyone and still moved well for his size. Ring rust is real, and chemistry matters, but he did not look out of place. He was also a late sub. Nick Wayne was slotted for this spot before an injury took him out, and Killswitch stepped in against the most famous reunion on the card. That’s a rough draw, no matter your mask size.
Sabian’s night went from prickly to sour. He wanted to be the field general—he made that clear with every tag he demanded and every shout he tossed at Killswitch. He did get the best near-fall of the match with the quick cradle after the blind tag, and he bled hard after the spear that ended it. The frustration boiled over later when cameras caught him in a post-match interview putting the loss on Killswitch. “I don’t trust him,” he said, adding that if Nick Wayne had been in the match, the result would have flipped. That’s not locker-room glue. That’s a crack.
The London crowd leaned into all of it. They popped for the throwbacks, groaned at Mother Wayne’s grabs, and roared when Cage finally broke character for the hug. If you wanted a temperature check for how much fans still care about this pairing, you got it in that reaction. Forbidden Door traditionally blends companies, styles, and fanbases. Starting the night with a reunion as familiar as this one, on a card packed with crossovers, gave the show a different kind of jolt.
What the result means for The Matriarchy—and for Copeland and Cage
The loss hit The Matriarchy harder than the pinfall suggests. Backstage, Sabian’s blame game pointed to a bigger issue: leadership and trust. Shayna Wayne tried to steady the room, urging Sabian to think about what’s best for the faction. But even she acknowledged that having Nick Wayne instead of Killswitch might have changed the outcome. When the group’s core voices are talking in hypotheticals minutes after a match, the foundation is shaky.
What happens next? A few threads are already pulling loose.
- Killswitch has his own path to clear. He refused to be ordered around on Sunday, a reaction tied to the way he was treated during his time under Christian Cage’s leadership of The Matriarchy. If he stays in the faction, the hierarchy has to change. If he leaves, he becomes a wild card in a division that always needs believable heavies.
- Nick Wayne’s return timeline now doubles as a plot clock. If he’s back soon, Sabian gets the partner he wants—and the excuse he needs if results don’t improve. If the injury lingers, the current friction only grows.
- Shayna Wayne’s role gets bigger. She was active on the floor, and she tried to cool tempers after. If she can’t hold the group together, we’re looking at a split that drags across TV for weeks.
For Copeland and Cage, the win opens a different set of doors. They said plain as day this wasn’t about reliving the past. It was about handling business. They did that. But wins like this change schedules. The tag division is deep and full of teams that would love a shot at two legends who still move like contenders. AEW also has a habit of listening when a crowd sends a clear message, and London shouted for more.
Do they run it back as a team? That’s the question now. The visual of the double Impaler DDT and the hug will live on social feeds for days. It’s an easy sell for a second chapter, whether that’s a one-off grudge match or a small run with bigger stakes. There’s no need to rush into nostalgia, but there’s no point pretending the appetite isn’t there.
Sunday also reset the power balance with their rivals. If the goal was to disrupt The Matriarchy, consider it done. The interference didn’t pay off. The blind tag trick didn’t steal a win. The backup plan—blaming each other—just aired the faction’s issues on camera. That’s about as clean a result as Copeland and Cage could have hoped for.
A quick nod to the details that made the opener click. The pacing never dragged. The big man felt big. The opportunist felt opportunistic. The veterans leaned on timing and placement rather than piling up stunts. And the ref call on the blind tag was decisive—no messy debates, no muddy finish. If you’re grading fundamentals on a high-profile opening match, this checked the boxes that matter.
Forbidden Door is built on dream pairings and “never thought we’d see it” moments. This wasn’t a crossover in the traditional sense. None of the four came from the NJPW side. But the spirit of the show—a sense that the wrestling universe opens up for one night and gives you matchups you can’t count on the rest of the year—was all over this. Two veterans with miles of history, a giant returning from a real health scare, and a volatile faction wrestling itself as much as the opposition. That’s why the opener felt bigger than its runtime.
The O2 added its own weight. London crowds carry memory. They know what Copeland and Cage meant to tag wrestling long before they stood under AEW lighting. They also live in the here and now, which is why the reaction rolled from nostalgia to heat to relief and back to joy by the time the bell rang. The building didn’t just watch a reunion. It participated in it.
As the rest of the card rolled on, the first chapter left footprints. Copeland and Cage reminded everyone they can still close a sequence with precision. Killswitch proved he’s back in live fire after a brutal layoff. Sabian showed how thin the line is between clever and reckless. And The Matriarchy walked into the hallway with more questions than answers. That’s a lot of fallout for 13 minutes of work—and exactly the kind of opening a global showcase like this asks for.