There are nights in wrestling that feel bigger than storylines and championships—nights that feel like shared memory being written in real time. Saturday, December 13, 2025, at Capital One Arena in Washington, D.C., WWE staged one of those nights: Saturday Night’s Main Event: John Cena’s Final Match—and the ending landed like a lump in the throat.

Not because it was messy. Not because it was unclear.

Because it was final.

And because the man who built a career on four words—“Never Give Up”—left the ring to a crowd that answered him back with its own: “Don’t Give Up.” 

Here are the full results

• Cody Rhodes def. Oba Femi via disqualification (Drew McIntyre interference)  
• Sol Ruca def. Bayley  
• AJ Styles & Dragon Lee def. Je’Von Evans & Leon Slater  
• Gunther def. John Cena via submission (sleeper hold) — Cena’s final match  

Letter One: From John Cena to the fans

If John Cena could’ve mailed one last promo instead of wrestling one last match, it might’ve sounded like this:

You gave a loudmouth kid a microphone and a chance—and then you gave him twenty-plus years of your life.

You let me grow up in front of you. You let me fail, learn, adjust, and try again. You forgave me when I wasn’t cool. You cheered me when it was easy—and you challenged me when it wasn’t.

I told you “Never Give Up,” but what I really meant was: don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on your people. Don’t give up on the part of you that still believes a bad day can turn around if you keep moving.

And then the match started, and it wasn’t a farewell montage—it was a fight.

Gunther didn’t come out to applause. He came out to the kind of heat that says the building has decided who the villain is tonight.  And from bell to bell, he wrestled like a man determined to take something, not share it.

Cena answered the only way Cena ever has: with grit, muscle memory, and heart. He fought, he rallied, he delivered signature moments—the kind fans have seen a thousand times, yet still rise for like it’s the first. 

And then came the cruel poetry: the sleeper hold, the struggle, the arena willing him upright—“Super Cena”… “Don’t give up!” 

But Gunther kept coming. And in the end, John Cena tapped out. 

Not because he quit on the fans.

Because sometimes the most honest ending is the one that hurts—because it proves the journey mattered.

As he walked away, Cena left the symbols behind—his shoes and armbands in the ring—and gave the camera the simplest goodbye: “It’s been a pleasure serving you for all these years. Thank you.” 

Letter Two: From the fans to John Cena

Dear John,

We didn’t always know what we were watching when you started.

Some of us cheered. Some of us booed. Some of us did both in the same year because that’s what growing up looks like—changing your mind, changing your heart, learning what matters.

But the truth is: you stayed.

You stayed when it was loud.

You stayed when it was unfair.

You stayed when the same building that loved you also tested you.

You stayed—and somehow you made the whole thing feel personal, like you were talking to each of us.

That’s why last night hit different.

Because we weren’t just watching a match—we were watching the end of a relationship that lasted through childhood bedrooms, college dorms, deployments, breakups, healing, grief, and comebacks. Through Monday nights. Through Saturdays. Through the eras of our lives.

And when Gunther locked that sleeper in again, our voices rose the way they do when we’re trying to save something we love:

Don’t. Give. Up. 

But you did what wrestlers do when they love the business more than they love the spotlight: you gave the moment away to the future. 

The tributes that said what our throats couldn’t

Before the bell, the love poured in.

CM Punk put it plainly, the way real gratitude always sounds when you strip away the performance: “I just want to be able to thank him.” 

And The Rock—your greatest rival turned brother-in-arms—didn’t just salute the career. He saluted the person: “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.” 

Kurt Angle, the man across from you on night one, called the whole thing what it is: a ride… and a legend. 

And after the match, the image did the talking: Cody Rhodes and CM Punk placed their championship belts on your shoulders, a locker-room bow to a standard-bearer. 

Why the building turned on Gunther—and what the win makes him now

Fans didn’t just want you to win—they wanted the universe to be kind for one more night. When it wasn’t, the anger had to go somewhere, and Gunther absorbed it: boos, rage, disbelief—the emotional whiplash of watching a hero fall at the finish line. 

But Gunther didn’t flinch, because this is what his character—and his career—has become in 2025:

He’s not just “The Ring General.”

He’s the man who ends legends.

Earlier this year, Gunther defeated Goldberg in Goldberg’s retirement match. 

Now, he’s ended John Cena’s in-ring career, forcing a submission in the most symbolic way possible. 

That’s why the hate is so loud. Because the victory isn’t just a win—it’s a stamp on history.

The last thing we owe him

When the show ended, the noise wasn’t really about booking. It wasn’t really about who “should” have won.

It was grief wearing wrestling paint.

Because whether you grew up chanting “Let’s go Cena,” booing “Cena sucks,” or doing both in the same breath… we all showed up to say the same thing in different languages:

Thank you for staying.

Thank you for the standard.

Thank you for the heart.

Thank you for the belief.

And if the last lesson is that even John Cena can be forced to submit—then maybe the real legacy is what happens next:

We go on.

We carry it.

We don’t give up.

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