You probably remember the glow-in-the-dark "Suck It" shirts. Maybe you remember the tank—well, the jeep with a PVC pipe attached to it—rolling up to the WCW arena. It's easy to look back at d generation x wrestling as just a group of guys acting like middle-schoolers, but that misses the point. Honestly, DX wasn't just a wrestling stable. It was a middle finger to the entire establishment of the 1990s.
They were loud. They were obnoxious. They were frequently offensive. But they saved the WWE.
The Chaos That Started Everything
In 1997, the WWF (as it was then known) was losing. Badly. WCW was beating them in the ratings every single week. Shawn Michaels and Triple H were real-life friends who decided they were bored with the white-meat babyface acts that dominated the 80s. Along with Chyna and Rick Rude, they formed a group that basically lived by one rule: if the front office hated it, do it twice.
It started with a lot of "crotch chopping."
People forget how much the "Hart Foundation" vs. DX feud mattered. Bret Hart was the traditionalist, the guy who believed in the sanctity of the ring. DX represented the "Attitude Era" before the term even existed. They weren't just "heel" characters; they were meta-commentators on the business itself. When Shawn Michaels "won" the European Championship from Triple H in a mocked-up match in December '97, it was a joke on the fans and the promoter. It was punk rock in spandex.
Shawn Michaels was the lightning rod. He was arguably the best in-ring performer in the world, but he was also a mess behind the scenes. His back injury at the 1998 Royal Rumble against The Undertaker changed everything. It forced him out of the spotlight and left Triple H—a guy many fans thought was just Shawn's lackey—to take the reigns.
The Army and the Jeep
When Shawn left after WrestleMania XIV, everyone thought DX was dead. Instead, it exploded. Triple H recruited X-Pac (Sean Waltman), who had just been fired from WCW, and the New Age Outlaws (Road Dogg and Billy Gunn). This was the "DX Army."
They were cooler. They were more relatable.
The moment they invaded WCW Monday Nitro in April 1998 is etched into the brain of every person who watched wrestling then. They didn't just talk trash on their own show; they drove to the Norfolk Landmark Virginian-Pilot Arena where the competition was filming. They shouted through megaphones. They tried to let fans in. It was a PR masterstroke that proved WWE was the "edgy" alternative to the corporate giant of WCW.
Why the New Age Outlaws Worked
Honestly, Road Dogg and Billy Gunn were the heartbeat of the live shows. Road Dogg would do the intro—"Oh, you didn't know?"—and the crowd would erupt. It wasn't about the wrestling technique anymore. It was about the catchphrases. It was about the entrance. It was about making the audience feel like they were part of a club that their parents definitely wouldn't approve of.
Chyna: The Ninth Wonder of the World
We have to talk about Joanie Laurer. Chyna was a game-changer. Period.
Before her, women in wrestling were mostly "valets" or "divas" who stood in the corner. Chyna was the muscle. She would low-blow men, powerbomb them, and eventually win the Intercontinental Championship. She was the first woman to enter the Royal Rumble. Without her, the d generation x wrestling aesthetic would have just been a bunch of guys being frat boys. She gave them legitimacy and a visual edge that no other group had.
Her departure from the group and the company remains one of the more controversial and honestly sad chapters in wrestling history. Personal relationships between Triple H, Stephanie McMahon, and Chyna eventually led to a fractured legacy that took years to mend in the public eye.
The 2006 Reunion and the "Dad" Era
Fast forward to 2006. Triple H and Shawn Michaels were both older, more religious (in Shawn's case), and firmly established as legends. When they brought DX back to feud with the McMahons and the Spirit Squad, it was... different.
Some fans loved it. Others found it a bit "cringe" to see two multi-millionaires in their late 30s and 40s acting like teenagers again. They dumped green slime on the Spirit Squad. They vandalized Vince McMahon's private jet. It was high-budget slapstick. While it didn't have the raw, dangerous energy of the 90s, it sold a mountain of merchandise.
It's a classic example of how nostalgia works in sports entertainment. You take a brand that meant "rebellion" and you turn it into a "legacy act."
Breaking the Fourth Wall
One thing DX did better than anyone was acknowledge that wrestling was a show. They would talk to the cameras. They would mention things happening backstage. They would name-drop people in other companies. This "breaking of the fourth wall" is standard now—look at AEW or modern WWE promos—but in 1997, it was revolutionary.
They made it okay to be a fan again.
Critical Success vs. Cultural Impact
If you look at pure wrestling statistics, were they the most "successful" group? Maybe not. The NWO had more members. The Four Horsemen were more technically proficient. But DX owned the zeitgeist. They were on MTV. They were mentioned in magazines that usually ignored wrestling.
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They represented a specific brand of American counter-culture that existed between the end of Grunge and the start of the digital age.
The Complicated Reality of the Legacy
It wasn't all good. Let's be real. Some of the segments haven't aged well. The use of blackface in their parody of the Nation of Domination is a massive stain on their history that WWE often tries to edit out of highlight reels. Their treatment of women—other than Chyna—was often derogatory.
To understand d generation x wrestling, you have to understand the era they lived in. It was the era of South Park, The Jerry Springer Show, and Beavis and Butt-Head. They were a product of a time that valued "shock value" above almost everything else.
How to Appreciate DX Today
If you want to actually understand the impact of DX, don't just watch the highlight reels of them making jokes. Look at the matches.
- Shawn Michaels vs. The Undertaker (Hell in a Cell 1997): This is where DX was born. It’s one of the greatest matches in history.
- Triple H vs. The Rock (Ladder Match, SummerSlam 1998): This proved the "DX Army" era could actually deliver top-tier wrestling.
- The 2019 Hall of Fame Induction: Seeing the surviving members together, including X-Pac and the Outlaws, showed the genuine bond that survived the corporate politics.
What You Should Do Now
To get the full picture of how DX changed the industry, start by watching the "Rise and Fall of DX" documentary on the WWE Network/Peacock. It’s mostly accurate, though it definitely favors the Triple H perspective.
Pay close attention to the crowd noise in the 1998 footage. You’ll notice that almost every person in the front three rows is wearing a DX shirt. That wasn’t a marketing fluke; it was a genuine cultural shift.
After that, go back and watch the segment where they "invade" WCW. Compare that to the heavily scripted promos of today. You'll see the difference between a group that was being told what to do and a group that was essentially running the asylum.
If you're a collector, be careful with "vintage" DX shirts on eBay. Most are modern reprints. Look for the "Tultex" or "Fruit of the Loom" tags from the late 90s if you want the real deal. The authentic 1997-1998 merchandise is currently surging in value among Gen Z collectors who are discovering the Attitude Era for the first time.
The legacy of DX isn't just a hand gesture. It's the fact that wrestling stopped being a "kid's show" and became something that even the cool kids wanted to watch.