The Madness of Kevin Owens

On the Sept. 12 episode of SmackDown Live, Kevin Owens finally made his first true notable mark on the blue brand when he savagely assaulted Vince McMahon, first giving the chairman an unprovoked shoot headbutt that busted Vince open the hard way, then followed with a superkick and frog splash. It was a disturbing assault on a defenseless old man, made scarier by Owens’ deliberate wordplay of making Vince promise that KO could “beat a McMahon senseless” without reprimand.

This is the Kevin Owens we’ve been waiting for.

There’s no doubt in the two years since his call up from NXT that Owens has been a big success story. He’s a two-time Intercontinental Champion, a three-time United States Champion, and the longest reigning Universal Champion. Yet something went missing in the transition from NXT, appearing only in bits and pieces.

In Orlando, Owens’ character carried a different aura. This is not to say he was entirely different—far from it, in fact. His barbs were quick-witted, snarky, and sarcastic and his unbridled arrogance meant he was a dick to anyone and everyone. These traits have certainly not gone missing on the main roster.

But one trait was kept mostly in check since his arrival in May 2015—the single most defining attribute of the character. The one thing that truly sets Kevin Owens apart from all others, and the one thing that makes him uniquely dangerous—and hugely compelling.

His madness.

Obviously an exact clinical diagnosis of a fictional character is beyond our capabilities. But there’s plenty of evidence suggesting that Kevin Owens is wracked with pathological narcissism to the point of sociopathy. Indeed, what makes Owens most frightening is that his brain is broken.

(A quick and very important disclaimer: this is not to suggest that individuals with mental illnesses and disorders are overly disposed to violence. In fact, they’re more far more likely to be victims of acts of violence than the average person. This is only a specific assessment of how these disorders manifest themselves in Owens’ behavior.)

In a blog post for Psychology Today, Dr. Stephen Diamond gave a helpful definition of sociopathy:
By definition, sociopathy or Antisocial Personality Disorder is a pervasive, pronounced pattern of disregard for and deliberate violation of the rights of others occurring regularly since at least the age of fifteen (DSM-5). Moreover, current diagnostic criteria includes “failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest,” “deceitfulness,” “reckless disregard for safety of self or others,” and, maybe most tellingly, “lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another.” A strong sense of conscience is missing. Moreover, as stated in the diagnostic manual of the American Psychiatric Association, the sociopath or psychopath can be disarmingly charming, “excessively opinionated, self-assured, or cocky.” There is often a marked history of irritability, anger, rebelliousness, and verbal or physical aggressiveness.

…

Does his or her narcissistic vulnerability, hypersensitivity and resulting reactive narcissistic rage tend to drive the person to impulsive, self-defeating, vindictive, petty, retaliative speech or acts? Or to suffer (and force others to suffer) from a fundamental lack of empathy? An unwillingness or inability to recognize or identify with the feelings or reality of others? Is he or she overly arrogant, grandiose, self-centered, or interpersonally exploitative, taking advantage of others in order to achieve her or his own selfish desires? Does it potentially impair his or her capacity for mature, measured, rational judgment and decision-making? Under stress or in response to provocation, slight, insult or emotional injury, will the person remain a reasonable and rational adult or will he or she be temporarily taken over or possessed by a narcissistically wounded, frustrated, petulant, irrational little boy or girl, lashing out impulsively against the perceived perpetrator in a fit of primitive, vengeful, raging retribution?
(Hereafter I will interchangeably use sociopathy, Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD), and narcissism. There is no such thing as an exact mental health diagnosis, and these conditions frequently overlap in a person’s behavior, as is the case with Kevin Owens. Assume that when these terms are used in this piece, they are referring to Owens’ blend of APD and narcissism.)

Owens’ extreme antisocial behaviors are obvious—indifference to the well-being of others; unrelenting and singular quest for status, justified by the ostensibly virtuous desire of providing for his family; constant verbal abuse; attacks on authority figures; powerful paranoia contributing to an enormous victim complex; overriding sense of entitlement; and a whirlwind of other flaws. These combine with his wit and humor to create a cold yet intoxicating charisma that is simply unmissable, and despite a relatively short reign made him perhaps the most memorable male NXT Champion in the promotion’s history.

But if there is any one consistent trigger that causes Kevin Owens to lash out, it appears to be the idea of rejection. This makes plenty of sense even if we don’t know the underlying reason—whether it was some past trauma or simply innate. An individual whose brain tells them they’re God’s gift to humanity is not likely to take someone denying that “fact” very well.

As we’ll see, at four crucial points in his WWE career Owens confronted either active rejection or the threat of rejection, and all four times his behavior was driven by symptoms characteristic of sociopathy.

Taking Over

Owens left a path of vengeance and violence in NXT, starting on his debut night when he introduced himself to the WWE Universe at TakeOver: R Evolution, Dec. 11, 2014. The show’s credits began with a montage of NXT Superstars stating what that night’s matches meant, opened and closed by Owens: “I’ve waited 14 years for this moment. I told you I’m the future, and now it’s time to prove it.” (A banner reading “You are not here to fill a spot / You are here to take a spot” is highlighted as he says these words.) … “Tonight, Kevin Owens takes over.”

An impressive victory against CJ Parker was only the beginning. After his “best friend” Sami Zayn finally, at long last, won the NXT Championship, Owens was the first to the ring to congratulate Zayn, engulfing him in an impassioned hug. (Zayn, in a wonderful piece of storytelling, nervously backed away from Owens as KO made his way into the ring.)

The debutant then quietly skulked to the corner. While Zayn received an impassioned and extended hailing from the fans and fellow NXT Superstars, Owens merely watched, a passive spectator at this point. One wonders whether he was always planning on making his mark that night, or if he only decided in the moment. (Rest assured, he was definitely planning on doing it at some point.) But given that the credits told us that tonight was the night “Kevin Owens takes over,” it’s reasonable to assert that Owens, who “waited 14 years for this moment,” was hugely annoyed that his Very Big Night was overshadowed by his friend’s achievement. And not just any friend, but Sami Zayn.

The only person that mattered—that should have mattered—that night was Kevin Owens.

And so as the pair walked up the ramp, everyone else long dispersed, Kevin Owens gave an apron powerbomb to his best friend.

The following episode of NXT opened with a clip of the events at R Evolution, with the powerbomb spot featuring a voiceover from Owens: “I will fight anyone, and everyone.” As Owens is shown walking up the ramp, a fainter repetition, seemingly representing Owens’ internal dialogue, is heard: “… Fight … everyone.” There was only one voice, and it demanded destruction. His maliciousness was again highlighted when he closed the episode by powerbombing Neville onto the apron—the second stretcher job Owens caused in as many weeks.

His reputation was enshrined and emblazoned in the minds of any who saw his actions. In a matter of mere days, Kevin Owens had become the most notoriously violent figure in the promotion. He would continue to attack Zayn at random over the six weeks until the NXT champ made a demand to General Manager William Regal: give Sami a match with Owens, or he would not compete at all.

Regal agreed, but only to a non-title match, saying he didn’t want people being rewarded for heinous actions. A contract signing was set for Jan. 28, 2015, two weeks before TakeOver: Rival. It was during this segment that Owens first demonstrated his masterful manipulative tactics.

Zayn wasted no time to sign the contract, but when the binder was passed Owens’ way, he didn’t even bother to look at it, instead merely gazing in Zayn’s direction. He correctly assumed Zayn was ready to go all fire and brimstone, and that all he had to do to get what he wanted was wait. And so he stared at the champion, almost bored, until Zayn began to castigate him and demanded that Owens answer why he attacked him at R Evolution. He gave an impassioned speech, and promised to beat the hell out of Owens at TakeOver.

At long last the man from Marieville looked at the paper, twirled the pen in his hand, and instead of signing grabbed his mic and laid his trap. Not once looking at Zayn, Owens ever so slowly noted, “This says non-title match.” Addressing Regal alone, he said that his actions at R Evolution were not personal at all—that he was a prizefighter, the championship was the prize, and until the contract read “NXT Championship” match, he wouldn’t sign.

Deliberately ignoring Zayn while he was so inflamed ensured that the champion would walk right into the web. At this point Zayn needed to get his hands on Owens not just for his prior assaults, but more importantly for denying the value of those actions—that they were “just business” was a slap in the face to everything Zayn and Owens had undergone together, both with and against each other, in the preceding 12 years.

Of course, Owens knew this all too well. He abused a friend, and then to add insult he used that friend’s wounded emotions against him to get what he wanted. It was deceitful and manipulative, and it worked wholesale. Zayn demanded Regal change it to a title match, and the old villain reluctantly agreed. The look on Owens’ face after he eventually signed the updated contract says so much:

Calculated cynicism was Owens’ master plan all along. Betraying your best friend on his Big Night, and then acting like it meant nothing at all in order to get something you want, is sinister and disturbing behavior. Zayn walked right into the trap, and it would cost him the title.

The hype package for their TakeOver: Rival match laid bare Owens’ true motivations for so wantonly discarding an old and valued friendship: “They called him first.”

All of their travels together, according to KO, were designed so that they could make it to WWE together. But Sami got the call, and Kevin didn’t.

“And at one point, I’ll admit thinking, that this wasn’t going to happen for me.”

The fear of a teenage boy who saw his friend fulfill the lifelong dream they both worked so hard to reach, and believing that he would never get that same chance: that is why Kevin Owens gutted Sami Zayn. He was afraid that WWE was effectively telling him, “Not you.”

And so when Kevin Owens got the chance he didn’t expect, he took his bitterness about the delay out on the man who got the call first. He of course knew the epic journey that Zayn had went on to capture the NXT Championship, and that the title and what it represented meant everything to Sami. Owens was determined to immediately erase its value for Zayn, so he first ruined the moment the night of The Likeable One’s title win, and then coerced his way into a championship opportunity.

Five powerbombs and a referee stoppage later, Kevin Owens was the new NXT Champion—two months to the day after he betrayed Zayn at R Evolution.

The Prizefighter’s immediate reaction was telling: he laughed, hysterically.

His master plan had worked, even better than expected. He used and abused Sami Zayn by preying on his good nature, and stole the title that he’d worked so hard to grasp.

All because they called Zayn first.

Role model

By the time of their rematch at TakeOver: Unstoppable, Sami Zayn wasn’t the only piece of business that Owens had on his plate. The Prizefighter was creating quite a buzz in developmental, and it resulted in the fastest promotion in NXT’s history.

On May 18, 2015, Owens made his Monday Night Raw debut when he answered John Cena’s United States Championship Open Challenge. The NXT Champion immediately made his presence felt, going toe-to-toe in a promo battle with one of the greatest talkers—and in the WWE format, probably the greatest—in the history of professional wrestling.

Again we see Owens’ bitterness about not getting the call earlier from WWE, shooting down Cena’s offer of “veteran advice” with extreme hostility. It was a huge moment in Kevin Owens’ career, and he passed the test with flying colors. Throughout the promo the camera frequently caught John Cena smiling, as if he was thinking, “This guy’s nailing it on his first night.”

The segment ended with KO giving Cena the pop up powerbomb and stomping on the United States Championship. Only two days later, Owens’ rematch with Zayn at TakeOver: Unstoppable would end in a No Contest when Zayn was deemed unfit to continue following an apron powerbomb.

Less than two weeks later, Owens defeated Cena in his main roster debut at Elimination Chamber. After vanquishing Zayn, and shocking the world in his main roster debut, Owens should have been riding high. But he was none too pleased on Raw the night after:
Last night was the biggest win of my career by far, so I should be on top of the world tonight, but the fact is I’m not. Because the first thing I did after the match was call home, and I spoke to my wife and she told me how happy and proud of me she was and that meant the world to me. But then I spoke to my son, who like pretty much every other kid that watches WWE, is a huge John Cena fan. When we talked, all he could say was, “Daddy, how’s John, is he OK? Is John Cena all right?”

And you know, I get it. Because he’s been watching Cena for years. But just because I understand, doesn’t mean I think it’s OK. See because it’s not my boy’s fault, because what it is is blind worship, spurred on by the fact that for the last decade, John Cena has been portrayed as a living, breathing, real-life, superhero. Think about it. The bright colors. The powerful catchphrases: ‘hustle, loyalty, respect.’ ‘Never give up.’

While I traveled the world for over ten years, owning my craft, in hopes of one day making it to WWE, my son was being influenced by John Cena. That’s when John Cena became the hero to my son that I never got the chance to be, because I wasn’t featured on WWE television every week. That’s when John Cena became “Super Cena.” Well last night, I beat Super Cena. So tonight, as I stand before you, those ridiculous words, ‘Hustle, Loyalty, Respect,’ and ‘Never Give Up’ are being uttered by a broken, empty, shell of a man…
Owens wasn’t wrong at all—those words were indeed “uttered by a broken, empty, shell of a man.” But it was him, not Cena, that was broken. This was supposed to be his star moment, his arrival onto the world stage. And instead what he got was his own son fearing for John Cena’s well-being. Despite beating John Cena in his debut match, Kevin Owens felt small and insignificant.

As he has claimed many times in his WWE career, the only thing that matters to Owens is providing for his family. To have his very own son ignore his greatest career accomplishment and instead wonder about the man he defeated was perhaps the worst possible rejection in Owens’ mind, and it ate at him.

Unfortunately for Owens, Cena went on to win the next two matches in the series, including decisively forcing Owens to tap out in the rubber match. The two losses to Cena and concurrent two NXT title defeats at the hands of Finn Balor seemed to sap some of Owens’ intensity, resulting in him frequently walking out on matches in apathy. More importantly, the summer of 2015 put a huge dent in Owens’ aura—from the exciting, callous and cold-hearted killer to just another loser.

It was a series of setbacks that left The Prizefighter adrift for some time. For lack of a better word, Kevin Owens was depressed.

Best Friend

Indeed, Owens’ first year and change on the main roster after the Cena feud wasn’t particularly notable despite his two Intercontinental Championship reigns and a renewed feud with Zayn. Owens would lose the big blowoff match to Zayn at Battleground 2016, with The Likable One (temporarily) exorcising the demon with two Helluva Kicks. But Owens would not be in the wilderness forever, forming a close partnership with Chris Jericho in August 2016 that would last the next six months. This alliance consistently paid dividends after Owens won the vacated Universal Championship on Aug. 29, 2016.

Owens and Jericho snarked their way through Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns and anyone else placed in front of them, running the Raw main event scene for months. Jericho always seemed a bit more into the friendship than Owens, but the Universal Champion was committed as long as the relationship proved beneficial.

It ended, unsurprisingly, in spectacular and infamous fashion.

For weekly watchers who paid close attention to Owens, it was clear via glances and little comments that by February 2017 he was increasingly finding Jericho’s antics grating. Jericho had certainly proved his worth time and again, repeatedly helping Owens in matches against both Rollins and Reigns. But Jericho made a cardinal misstep Feb. 6, 2017, of agreeing to a match Owens plainly didn’t want: a Universal Championship defense against Goldberg at Fastlane.

The moment Jericho agreed to the match for Owens, the writing was essentially on the wall for the friendship. An extreme narcissist can maintain interpersonal relationships, even close ones, as long as they perceive some benefit available. But once a person has made a mistake and become a problem—in no matter what way, no matter how big or small, or even whether it was an actual problem or a mere construction of the diseased mind—they can be dispensed with quite readily.

It was in this context that one week later Triple H, who had no interaction with Owens since he handed him the title in August 2016, reappeared and pulled the champion aside for a quick personal talk—sans Jericho. The two are shown later in the show, but it doesn’t exactly seem a collegial chat. The situation much more closely resembles Triple H talking “at” Kevin Owens, not “with” Kevin Owens.

Think who Triple H is to all NXT graduates, especially former NXT champions. “Papa Hunter,” the man who signed literally dozens of male and female wrestlers who would have never gotten a look under past regimes (including Owens), and then created a protected vanity promotion in which they could grow, is an iconic figure for NXT alum. The well-earned mockery about Triple H’s “mark pics” after an NXT grad debuts on the main roster or wins a championship ignores the fact that it’s an immense status symbol for talent.

Owens had an even bigger reason to listen closely to “Paul”: the man literally handed him the title on a plate in August 2016, and did so by explicitly rejecting his prior “handpicked” champion. Kevin Owens is a razor sharp fellow, so he certainly knew that if Seth Rollins could be cast aside, he was not immune from the same fate.

What exactly Triple H said is unknown and largely irrelevant. We can safely assume that he told Owens to end his partnership with Jericho, and to do so that evening. We can also reasonably infer from Owens’ face, and the events of the evening, that he expressed disappointment with KO. Perhaps Triple H noted that The Prizefighter had strayed from the persona that made him such an immediate star in NXT, and turned into a bit of a joke.

One thinks of Triple H’s endorsement of Pete Dunne’s actions during the WWE UK Championship Tournament this past January: “Make a name for yourself, kid.” It’s not unreasonable to believe that Papa Hunter would have said something similar to Owens after TakeOver: R Evolution, and that The Game was urging—demanding—that KO become that man again.

Once this happened, there was only one outcome for Feb. 13, 2017’s “Festival of Friendship.” A possible renunciation from “Papa Hunter” was far too great for any friendship to survive, especially when coupled with Kevin Owens’ documented fear of rejection.

(What’s more, in his opening promo the following week, Owens very. clearly. enunciated. that he “plays the game” better than anyone else. That’s not coincidental language.)

Thus Chris Jericho was a dead man walking that night, and the “Festival of Friendship” was doomed from the start. Y2J’s procession of amusing gifts was cute enough, but then Jericho began to wax lyrically about his dynamic with Owens, saying that it had made the last year one of his favorite years of his entire career.

Owens listened, stone-faced.

As Jericho listed off the number of people he had helped Owens defeat, KO looked down, hearing the truth of the words that were offered him and knowing they made no difference. In these brief moments we perhaps see the saplings of decency left inside Owens, but they’re just that: saplings.

Despite the flowery words, which he clearly assesses, he knows what he’s going to do. Owens, so broken inside, seems to start getting annoyed with Jericho, who is literally pledging his loyalty and love to his dear friend, and all Owens can think about is how we wishes Y2J would finish so he can knife him already.

When the moment finally comes, the absolute lust for destruction in Owens’ eyes is unmissable. As Jericho realizes that his name is on the new list, we can hear Owens audibly drop his microphone, then his title, while Jericho turns the list over to see that it reads “The List of KO.” Owens is literally enraptured, like he had been starving for days and just so happened upon a collection of his favorite foods. It’s the look exchanged by two drunks in a bar at 3:00 a.m. when they realize they’re going to go home together. It’s simply ravenous, and it’s absolutely terrifying.

The beatdown that follows brings more of the same pleasure to Owens. After giving Jericho his famous apron powerbomb, he leans back and looks to the heavens, damn near orgasmic in appearance. Bringing back the apron bomb, the weapon that he made his name with in NXT his very first night and so established him as such a dangerously violent figure, was a cathartic release of sorts from all the jokes and japes of the prior six months.

Kidding around may have been fun and all, but for Kevin Owens, there’s nothing quite like stabbing someone in the heart. Mocking opponents is enjoyable, but what Owens truly longs for is to tear out the souls of others and cause them immense suffering. That he was reaffirming his place in Triple H’s eyes was a very sweet cherry on top.

For the first time on the main roster, Kevin Owens felt like the killer that so transfixed NXT audiences. He was dangerous once more. But tapping into that extreme bellicosity and indulging in unadulterated destruction was destined to have consequences for KO’s mental balance. Indeed, a series of missteps over the summer would result in Owens suffering a complete descent into madness.

Breakdown

Owens was sent to SmackDown Live in the post-WrestleMania 33 SuperStar Shake-Up, and quickly made his mark felt.

Well, sort of.

KO had branded himself “The New Face of America” after he initially won the United States Championship from Chris Jericho at WrestleMania 33 and began relying on classic “generic foreign heel” traits that worked to get boos, but were painfully retrograde. (This was not helped at all by the fact that Jinder Mahal, soon to become WWE Champion, was also playing the same role, and when Rusev debuted on SmackDown he did the same.) While the gimmick played into Owens’ trolling and combative persona, it inherently lacked any edge and wasn’t particularly interesting.

It was on SmackDown Live’s companion post-show program, Talking Smack, where Owens truly shined. Talking Smack gained a famous reputation during its run for letting its performers play more to their natural strengths, and this proved true for KO. The night of his debut on SmackDown, he appeared on Talking Smack and so thoroughly radiated with hostile indifference and victimhood, literally throwing his shoes onto the table as soon as he got on set, saying, “You guys were talking about shoes earlier, so those are mine, they didn’t cost very much money. Because I don’t really care about shoes.” It wasn’t long until he began castigating Commissioner Shane McMahon and General Manager Daniel Bryan that they didn’t draft him originally, and that Raw drafted him later than he believed he should have been taken. “I’m still bitter about that, even though it was months ago.”

Toward the end of the episode, host Renee Young offered standard boilerplate remarks: “It’s great to have you here on SmackDown Live, looking forward to seeing what you’re gonna be able to do here with this top spot … “ When Young finished, Owens immediately responded in a manner that essentially broke all social norms: “You don’t mean that, but that’s OK, I don’t care about your opinion.” Such casual disdain for the format and hosts was unprecedented. Superstars like The Miz or Alexa Bliss made great marks on Talking Smack, often at the expense of the hosts, but those moments were in direct response to actions taken or words uttered by Young or General Manager Daniel Bryan.

But this was Owens’ first night on the brand. His grievance, as he himself stated, was based on something from “months ago” that he simply refused to get over. Before he left the set, he touched once more on not being chosen by SmackDown in the original brand draft. Even more disturbingly, it started initially as a congratulations to Daniel Bryan on the coming birth of his baby:
KO: Good luck with the baby, and everything.

DB: Thank you.

KO: Couple weeks?

DB: Yeah, two and a half weeks.

KO: Little girl?

DB: Little girl.

KO: That’s awesome, I have a little girl. She’s turning 3 in just a couple days. I have a nine-year-old son. You guys know that, though. But of course you didn’t draft me to SmackDown Live so that I could provide for them.
No matter how small the slight, Owens will hold a grudge and will never fail to make others uncomfortable whenever possible. It is as if his memory is so powerful and vivid solely so that it can provide fuel for his forever war of grievances. This notion was reinforced by each successive Talking Smack appearance he made, including a time when he brought up being pied in the face on July 4, 2016. This is incredible commitment to detail—though it was highly entertaining at the time, how many people remembered the event a year later?

Kevin Owens did, of course, and it reaffirms our fundamental understanding of the character. Any slight against him is an affront to decency and justice, but he can justify literally any action he takes—no matter how it affects others. He matters; they do not. Owens’ behavior always comes back to one big truth: everything should be for his benefit, and if it isn’t, he will make it so.

Owens’ cycle of anger and violence was renewed toward the end of his extended summer 2017 feud with AJ Styles over the United States Championship. He lost the title to Styles at a July 7 Madison Square Garden house show, and won it back July 23 at Backlash. Everything began to fall apart two days later on SmackDown.

Styles demanded his rematch for the US title, which Owens flatly declined, saying that neither Styles nor anyone else would challenge for the championship that night. His bubble was quickly burst when Chris Jericho—whom Owens had put on the injury list May 2—returned to also demand his obligated rematch. Unsurprisingly, and despite protest from Owens, Commissioner Shane McMahon made a triple threat match for that very evening. Much to KO’s chagrin, Styles pinned Jericho to win back the title.

Making the champion defend the title when he had no desire to do so isn’t exactly a crime against humanity, but obviously any heel would believe it to be an injustice. That he was not pinned to lose the title certainly rubbed salt into the wound, though.

And things would get much worse.

One week later, Styles retained the championship by pinning Owens despite a very obvious shoulder well, well off the mat for basically the entire count. Already feeling aggrieved due to the prior week’s triple threat, referee Mike Chioda’s blunder sent Owens ballistic. KO angrily yelled at Shane and Daniel Bryan backstage before shoving Chioda. Owens was granted a rematch at SummerSlam, but he demanded a competent official—and Bryan nominated Shane.

It is noteworthy (and thankfully so, in a real world sense, since it was terribly hackneyed) that Owens dropped his “Face of America” gimmick in the lead up to SummerSlam and began reverting to his old, more dangerous self. As his list of grievances grew, he became less interested in trolling the audience with his routine shtick and increasingly unhinged.

His mood would not improve any in Barclays, with Shane heavily involved in the match both accidentally, and as the match went on, purposefully. To make matters worse, Owens believed he was cheated out of two pinfall victories by the commissioner. Following a pop up powerbomb, Shane was slow to make the count as he had taken the brunt of a 450 splash from Styles shortly before. This allowed Styles the time to eventually kick out, further infuriating the challenger.

Of course, Owens himself appeared to pull Shane into harm’s way on the 450 splash to protect himself. That he was the reason Shane was shaken up was irrelevant in KO’s mind. All that mattered was the inability to make the count.

Following a second pop up powerbomb later in the match, Owens again covered Styles, this time for a three count. The Prizefighter popped up in celebration, but Shane noticed that Styles’ foot was on the rope and waved off his count. Needless to say, KO was furious, and this time with legitimate reason. Shane counted three, and he did not notice the foot on the rope in that time.

What makes the error worse is that the foot was obvious, and should have been to Shane as well. Had he seen it immediately and notified Owens, KO could have moved Styles toward the center of the ring and still record the pin. Styles remained prone on the mat while Shane and KO argued, again depriving Owens of possibly taking advantage of Styles’ condition and getting a win. This was an egregious error on Shane’s part which he compounded by arguing with the competitor.

Given the multiple controversies in the SummerSlam match, Owens was granted yet another U.S. Championship rematch on the post-SummerSlam episode of SmackDown Live. Because KO was certain no available official would be adequate, he was charged by Shane with finding a referee of his choosing for the Aug. 22 contest.

It was at this desperate moment, following a slew of what Owens deemed as egregious refereeing mistakes, with seemingly the whole world aligned against him, that KO sought out ostensibly the most unlikely person possible: Sami Zayn.

Despite his years of malice Owens harbors a very powerful admiration for Zayn. He even went so far as to implicitly acknowledge Zayn’s righteousness and strength of character when he came upon him backstage:
KO: Just the guy I’m looking for.

SZ: Is that right?

KO: Yeah. Look, we’ve been fighting each other, and by each other’s side for 15 years, or our entire careers, really. And you know people can say whatever they want about what I’ve done to you, or what you’ve done to me, OK, but look tonight I need somebody I can trust to be the referee in my match, and you’re the only one that fits the bill. OK?

SZ: You know what man? I watched your DVD recently. “The Kevin Owens Story.” I got to be honest with you, reliving all that history brought up a lot of, you know it just feels like we’ve been fighting for so long sometimes I forget what we are even fighting about.

KO: Yeah, you know what? Yes, I agree, you’re right. I kind of feel the same way so you know what, maybe we shouldn’t be fighting. Or actually maybe we shouldn’t be fighting each other. Look, I know you’re not busy tonight because the truth is since you’ve come to SmackDown Live you really haven’t been doing much of anything. But tonight you can do something that matters, something that counts. OK, so please just think about it.
Sami Zayn was Kevin Owens’ first choice as referee, which helps bring us to this conclusion: Owens, despite his constant mistreatments of Zayn before and after this moment, legitimately believes Sami Zayn is a barometer of truth, dignity, and justice. His request is far more than a simple ask: it’s a desperate plea, downright near a beg. It’s a shot-in-the-dark chance that Owens is almost embarrassed to make, because he knows how much grief and pain he has dished out to Zayn throughout the years.

When someone continuously wrongs another, sometimes they will then need to rely on that person. By no means is it an uncommon scenario. And in many cases the guilty party is, indeed, awash with guilt: they know the wrongs they’ve committed and are almost sheepish in the request.

It would be easy to call the offending party, in this case Owens, an opportunistic, craven hypocrite. And crucially, there was no attempt at atonement other than a small bit of implicit remorse because Owens, again, is only thinking of himself. He feels, internally, that him even approaching Zayn to ask the favor is such an immense admission of guilt—because that’s the feeling eating him up inside—that no actual expression of regret is necessary.

That Owens’ plea is genuine is the very reason he is so incensed when it’s rejected, and it’s symptomatic of his diseased mind. He was reduced to displaying legitimate vulnerability, and it was (rightfully) brushed aside. The disconnect and true illness is that Owens cannot, or perhaps will not, follow the straight line of how his own actions in the past led to Sami’s inevitable answer of no. KO categorically refuses to give any validity to the feelings of others, instead only caring about how he is affected. (It’s noteworthy that Owens manages to throw in several apparently unintentional digs at Zayn during his heartfelt speech.)

What Owens’ plea displays are shreds of humanity remaining inside a brain and heart that is wildly embittered and diseased by a foul cocktail of narcissism and sociopathy. These bits and pieces struggle to overcome the brewing cauldron of hate and detachment that is so entrenched, whether by nature, nurture, or both.

Truthfully, it’s a no win scenario. Even when the slivers of decency come out, their relevance is negated by all the lies and deceit that came before.

To the outside observer it’s yet one more manipulative trick. This is especially true for Zayn, who has seen a pattern of behavior over many, many years, that suggest that the apparent contrition will not last a second longer than its usefulness. That is the great, layered tragedy here: Owens is a broken and unwell man and needs someone to have faith in him; the only person who could ever possibly care enough to step out onto the ledge and give him a chance is Zayn, because of their shared history; but that very shared history means that Zayn is extremely and correctly reticent to offer a helping hand.

When Zayn predictably declines—the sins committed against him are far too much for any reasonable, self-respecting person to even acquiesce—Owens immediately snaps out of his subdued funk, his hatred fully restored. This reaction is completely representative of an unwell person reacting to rejection.

Keep in mind that Owens was already on the edge after the events of the last few months, constantly displaying intense anger and paranoia. All he needed to completely breakdown was one final trigger, and he happened to get the worst one possible: a rejection from Sami Zayn.

Still it would get worse. His eventual referee choice, Baron Corbin, was obviously biased in favor of Owens. KO had promised Corbin a title opportunity in order to get him to accept the post, and Corbin’s ridiculous match calling eventually drew Shane McMahon to the ring. While Corbin and McMahon argued, Owens gave Styles a low blow and covered him. Corbin went to make the count, but was pulled out of the ring by the commissioner, who had seen Owens’ illegal strike. Fed up with the whole thing, Corbin took off the referee shirt, threw it at Shane, and bailed.

Ostensibly left with no other choice, Shane donned the shirt himself, an act that was guaranteed to outrage Owens. The man he believed had screwed him out of the title match in Barclays literally broke up Owens’ pinfall, caused Owens’ chosen ref to quit the match (a chosen ref that Shane himself had allowed Owens to pick), and then anointed himself the referee.

That’s too much, man.

Too much for any random person to take and remain rational, let alone someone as embittered and self-centered as Kevin Owens. And indeed, the events of Aug. 22 proved to be Owens’ breaking point.

By the time he appeared on the Aug. 29 episode of SmackDown, Owens had clearly lost the plot. Lacking any discipline whatsoever, KO foamed at the mouth while he raged against Shane’s repeated injustices. Owens is at his most capable when he is deadly calm and callous, as his deceitfulness renders him able to easily outsmart foes before resorting to violence. This unhinged rant was far, far, far removed from that version of Kevin Owens.

Shane came out to more or less tell Owens off, prompting the former U.S. champion to stew even more. To add insult to injury, Shane announced a match to take place right then: Aiden English vs … Sami Zayn.

Owens would exact some small amount of petty revenge during said match when he left his spot on commentary, entered the ring, forcibly removed the referee’s shirt, and deemed himself the new official. Remember that two weeks prior, Zayn refused to acquiesce to Owens’ legitimate request for him to serve as the ref. Owens “returned the favor” by doing what Sami did not—serve as the referee for the other’s match. Unsurprisingly, he then gave Zayn a pop up powerbomb and fast counted English’s pinfall.

Amazingly, there were still greater depths ahead.

Enamored with his own refereeing performance, Owens attempted to repeat the gambit on Sept. 5 by trying to make himself a special guest referee for a slated Carmella-Natalya contest. That Owens literally had nothing to do with the match was irrelevant to him. He was engaging in classic attention seeking behavior, and was well aware that his shenanigans would draw Shane out. KO was deliberately provoking a fight with authority.

On cue the commissioner came to the ring to tell Owens to stop blaming the commissioner for his own failures—that the only person to blame was himself. Owens, convinced that Shane had twice screwed him, started insulting his rival by mocking what he deemed to be attention seeking behavior by Shane. This was yet more overt projection from Owens, who had literally just interrupted a segment for a division he had no part in. But it was when KO brought up Shane’s recent helicopter crash that things turned ugly.

Remember that even if you take Owens at his word, and agree that Shane had screwed him out of two wrestling matches, the commissioner’s “crimes” are pretty small fry: getting involved in wrestling matches. KO’s response was wildly disproportionate, telling Shane that his whole family, especially his kids, would have been better off if he had died in the helicopter crash.

Because the man had gotten involved in wrestling matches.

To suggest this is an overreaction simply doesn’t cut it. Shane got involved in Owens’ matches, therefore he should die. This is insane.

Naturally Shane didn’t take this lightly, attacking Owens at ringside before being eventually separated by officials. This prompted a continuous tirade from Owens throughout the show as he claimed he was going to sue everyone in WWE. GM Daniel Bryan received a phone call from Vince himself which resulted in Shane being indefinitely suspended and Vince promising to appear the following week.

It’s noteworthy that when KO opened SmackDown Live Sept. 12 and declared it The Kevin Owens Show, he announced his very first act would be to fire Sami Zayn. This is directly tied into him being humiliatingly rejected by Sami three weeks prior. Rather than engaging in even a second of introspection, Owens blames the opposite party, once again deliberately ignoring his own plethora of wrongdoing. He categorically fails to place any value on the damage he has caused to others—which means he is not hesitant at all to inflict further suffering on others.

Owens saved his most heinous act for the end of the show, when he delivered the aforementioned beating to the chairman of the board. We saw in those moments just how far Owens had fallen, and how little control he had over his own actions. Disciplined and cunning Kevin Owens had turned into a raving, violent lunatic giving shoot headbutts to a 72-year-old man.

Brutally assaulting Vince McMahon and his justification for the attack are obvious manifestations of his sociopathy, and a clear sign that Owens had given in completely to his madness. Attacking authority figures and believing one’s self to be impervious to consequences are telltale signs of APD. We saw Owens’ mental condition deteriorate week-by-week over the past several months, and finally he snapped.

Unsurprisingly he addressed his actions Sept. 19 on SmackDown, expressing some small amount of contrition for assaulting the CEO. But lest anyone think he was sincere, he immediately blamed his own actions on Shane McMahon, arguing that Shane’s conduct over the past several months caused Owens to lash out and attack Vince. Thus the apology was immediately rendered moot, as he refused to take responsibility for what he did.

If anything, admitting that the actions were wrong and then denying they were his fault is even more twisted than simply saying he was in the right. KO is aware of his crimes, and aware that if he left them unaddressed it could result in serious repercussions. He is able to make the correct value judgment on his attack—but then carefully slithers away from admitting he should not have done it. He had no choice, you see. It was that dastardly Shane McMahon that caused all this, and it would not be right if Owens were held responsible for what Shane wrought.

This is a sick mind at work, able and willing to cause great harm to defenseless individuals and then blaming others for his own actions. With Hell in a Cell under two weeks away, there’s no telling what he could do.

Cycles

There are not a ton of performers who are both able and given the chance to string together a character narrative that builds on itself week-by-week. It requires a complete and encompassing grasp of character, and just as importantly meaningful time, every week, to tell their story. Kevin Owens is blessed with both these attributes, and when taken as a whole his tenure in WWE is remarkably coherent and serialized.

At his core, Kevin Owens is run by an extremely intelligent yet broken brain, displaying overt and widespread signs of narcissism and sociopathy. Yet the one thing in life that appears a certain trigger for KO is being rejected in some manner. The prospect of being rejected or any actual rejection brings out an immense hostility in Owens that leads to a highly emotional response, leading to extreme violence directed against others as well as self-destructive behavior. This makes perfect sense: anti-social behaviors are in essence defense mechanisms established to protect the individual from trauma, whether real or imagined. Narcissism, for example, is often an extreme reaction to crushingly low self-esteem and is merely a cover (conscious or not) for that reality.

This being professional wrestling, the (temporary) redemption of Kevin Owens is a future certainty, and I would argue that his sincere request of Sami Zayn to serve as referee was the very first step in that process. Of course, Zayn’s rejection brought about a wild reaction in Owens, causing him to tell one authority figure that their family would be better off if they died, and physically assaulting another—a 72-year-old man. But sometimes people must go backward to go forward, and Owens’ actions are clear signs that his mental diseases have taken hold. He still has yet to admit his faults and apologize for his actions, but he has now at least shown he’s harboring a deep-seated guilt—something the character had never really demonstrated prior.

One just hopes that it’s a transition that is thoroughly shown on camera, that the rich complications that make the character of Kevin Owens so compelling are not cast aside for any old mundane face turn. Even as a babyface, Owens’ psyche should still remain irreparably damaged, the relationship between he and Zayn (or any other face) couched in mistrust. But perhaps with a little help from someone that matters, Kevin Owens can overcome his mental demons—for a time.

Until the madness takes hold once more.