For more than 23 years, John Cena was not simply a WWE superstar; he was an embodiment of consistency in an ever-changing wrestling world. In an industry that changes rapidly, where champions came and went and eras blurred into one another, Cena remained. 

His retirement marks more than the end of a blessed career; it signals the closing of a chapter that raised a generation. For many of us, growing up meant growing up with John Cena through school years, through evening pay-per-views, through moments when wrestling felt like the natural place to believe in heroes.

Cena's story began in 2002 with a single response that changed everything: "Ruthless Aggression." From that moment, he carved a path that few in the history of professional wrestling ever have. 

He evolved quickly from the brash energy of his early years to the cultural phenomenon of the "Doctor of Thuganomics," and eventually into the irreplaceable face of WWE. 

Longevity in wrestling is rare, especially in an unpredictable industry. Longevity at the top is nearly unheard of. Yet Cena did both. Championships followed, but numbers alone never captured his significance. Cena was defined not by how often he held gold, but by how often he was asked to hold the line.

Over the years, his résumé became historic. World titles stacked up, WrestleMania main events defined eras, and the weight of being "the face" never lifted. Cheers and boos came in equal measure, but John Cena stayed. Late in his career, winning the Intercontinental Championship completed his Grand Slam, a fitting nod to his range rather than a search for validation.

For a generation, Cena was a childhood hero. "Never Give Up" was more than a slogan; it became a lesson fans carried with them. Kids wore his armbands, copied his salute, and believed doing the right thing still mattered. His work with Make-A-Wish only confirmed that responsibility mattered to him.

That bond was built through matches that became shared memories. Rivalries with Edge and Randy Orton defined WWE's emotional and weekly television peaks. WrestleMania classics with Shawn Michaels, brutal wars with Brock Lesnar, the era-shaping feud with The Rock, and a standout trilogy with AJ Styles followed, capped by a five-star bout in Australia two months ago where most of the crowd wore Cena merchandise.

CM Punk, whom Cena calls his wrestling soulmate, added another chapter during the summer retirement tour. Cena's pipe-bomb-style promo, echoing Punk, blended tribute and rivalry, showing his ability to adapt, entertain and stay relevant as the landscape evolved.

His 2015 United States Championship Open Challenges revealed new layers of John Cena as a performer, elevating emerging talent week after week. One defence, against Seth Rollins, remains vivid: Cena broke his nose mid-match and refused to stop or surrender. It showed devotion beyond slogans, proving he could thrive with the very best.

As fans grew older, perspectives shifted. Many of us quietly stopped watching as children and began watching as adults, carrying forward another of his enduring ideals: "Hustle, Loyalty and Respect". Those words took on deeper meaning, shaping how we approach our own lives, honouring his legacy by living it.

That continuity became deeply personal during his retirement tour. Earlier this year back in March at the premium live event 'Elimination Chamber' held in Toronto, Ontario, I was there. One voice among thousands, witnessing a moment no one expected.

When Cena won the men's Elimination Chamber match, the reaction was thunderous. 

The cheers were loud and so were the pyro techniques, emotional, and distinctive, a reflection of years of loyalty and gratitude pouring out in a single moment. 

And then, almost instantly, everything changed. When Cena turned heel, those same cheers transformed into boos. The shift was jarring and electric, not born out of rejection, but out of storytelling. 

It was the beauty of professional wrestling on full display how a single decision can flip emotion, redefine a narrative, and remind everyone why this art form works when it is done right. 

For a generation, Cena was a childhood hero. "Never Give Up" was more than a slogan; it became a lesson fans carried with them. Kids wore his armbands, copied his salute, and believed doing the right thing still mattered.

As fans grew older, many of us quietly stopped watching as children and began watching as adults, carrying forward another of his enduring ideals: "Hustle, Loyalty and Respect".

In that moment, disbelief turned into appreciation. Even at the end, John Cena was still capable of commanding an arena, still able to guide the audience exactly where the story needed to go.

That same tour delivered another moment of shared joy. When Cena captured his 17th world championship, history was rewritten as the greatest number of world championships won by a superstar in WWE. What once seemed untouchable became reality. I remember celebrating with my friends not just because of the record, but because of what it represented. The number mattered, but the moment mattered more.

Beyond the ring, Cena's influence continued to grow. Hollywood welcomed him, but he never distanced himself from wrestling. Whether acting, hosting, or representing WWE on global stages, he carried the industry with respect. He never spoke as someone who had outgrown wrestling; he spoke as someone who had been shaped by it. That humility only strengthened his legacy.

Five Knuckle Shuffle off into the sunset

Last night, his final ever wrestling match at the Capital One Arena In Washington, DC, against Gunther, whose result is now written in history, and while John Cena did not walk away victorious in his retirement match, he did not give up not for a second. 

He fought until there was nothing left to give, until the message was clear: this was not defeat, this was closure. As the referee's call for the match ended, Cena remained on his knees, absorbing the moment as his fellow peers joined surrounding the ring to bid farewell to him. 

He did not hint at failure, but in truth he had been preparing us for a long time that his time was over, and he had given everything and it was about time to hang up his boots leaving them in the ring behind.

The crowd was emotional and had other reactions. One last, theme song, one last run to the ring, one last 5 knuckle shuffle, One last "You Can't C me", One final salute, one last 'going to work' with Stu the cameraman whom Cena interacted as a friend throughout his career which also showcased his humility. 

It was not about winning one last match; it was about honouring a career built on sacrifice, resilience, and belief. The last time…was…now.

The author is 4th year Student studying Psychology at Concordia University of Edmonton.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.

WWE / John Cena