I agree with a good amount of what @kliq wrote, and I also agree that a lot of this is about perception right now, rather than the empirical reality of the product, @Alex_Patel. A few other thoughts:
-The MJF-verse has been a real distraction from in-ring quality, something which AEW hardcores like myself always had plenty of. Even when there were goofy or just plain bad angles on Dynamite, I could just put up with them for a few minutes each week because I knew Kenny and Penta (or whoever) were going to put a clinic on. While the last few weeks, especially on Collision, are clearly a sign of course correction, there’s been almost a full year of Brochacho goofiness being presented as the main focus of the promotion. IMO, that sort of storyline isn’t just bad material in and of itself, but hurts other programs too, because it begins to train fans that entrances and backstage vignettes are the “real” substance of the show, and that it’s okay to sit on your hands during, y’know, the actual wrestling matches.
-To the point about AEW hardcores, I agree with the point the VoW guys often make about AEW now being compared with its own five year history now, rather than against the WWE. Like John said on a Raw review recently, when WWE builds a Nakamura/Cody program by digging back several years into each man’s history and finds parallels, it feels like a masterstroke of storytelling because that company’s presumed that its fans have the memories and attention spans of jack russell terriers on speed for decades. Simple moves like that are easy wins, because they’re a quantum leap beyond what its fans are used to. AEW hasn’t just had a ridiculous back catalog of matches to live up to, it’s also had a rep for rewarding attention to long term and (by pro wrestling standards) subtle cues in the Elite’s programs, MJF’s heel work, and loads of other cases. When even minor gaps in logic appear (or a card is bogged down by kangaroo kick '86 house show BS), that stands out in contrast to the company’s legacy.
-Linking these two points together, when I tune into any wrestling TV show or PPV or whatever, it’s because there’s something about that promotion or that show that is different from what I can see elsewhere. Sometimes that’s as simple as which wrestlers are appearing on it (though there are plenty of wrestlers I love working for companies I don’t watch), but often its deeper and broader than that. When I watch a DDT show I don’t expect them to produce an NJPW-styled show, even if I prefer NJPW to DDT. When I was religiously watching the first few years of NWA Power, it certainly wasn’t because I though the wrestling was better than what I could see on NJPW or the golden age of NXT. It was because those products had a distinct identity which I couldn’t experience anywhere else. Whatever you want to say about Bischoff, he had the right idea with the Nitro blueprint: whatever they’re doing, we do something different (Jesse Collings’ ‘be Red Bull, not another Coke’ analogy is bang on). We could speculate for days about whether the sneaking WWEisms in AEW are due to MJF, due to Mike Mansury, due to Jimmy Jacobs, or whether even we think those changes make for “better” pro wrestling TV. But the problem is that they make the product less distinct from what’s been on the other channel for decades, and they’re leagues ahead in terms of money, media integration, broader cultural clout, and brand loyalty. We all know how TNA bottomed out trying to chase WWE’s tail rather than investing in the talent and qualities which made them different. While, sure, there might be some fans who like the WWEified flavour in AEW, they already have five to seven hours of it on tap a week elsewhere, and will always view AEW as a fallback. How many times have you heard this play out:
“I’ll have a Coke, please.”
“Is Pepsi okay?”
“Oh, sure, that’s fine I guess.”
AEW can’t afford to be Pepsi in this situation, like Jesse alluded to. Be Red Bull. Be iced tea. Be kombucha, FFS. But don’t be a secondary version of Coke.