The WWE Universe has a way of rewriting scripts, and Jacob Fatu is living proof. The 35-year-old Samoan powerhouse, a scion of the storied Anoa’i wrestling dynasty, has spent much of his young WWE career as the menacing enforcer for Solo Sikoa’s Bloodline faction on SmackDown. With a physique that looks chiseled from granite and a ring style that fuses raw aggression with jaw-dropping agility, Fatu was built to be feared, not loved. Yet, in a twist even he didn’t see coming, the fans have flipped the narrative. “I don’t think this (fans cheers) was supposed to happen, but it happened,” Fatu told the Orlando Sentinel in a recent interview. “Me and The Usos and Solo (Sikoa), all of our real last names are Fatu, so the fun part of being a babyface is just hearing them chant ‘Fatu.’”
That chant has become a thunderous refrain. Since his debut in April 2024, Fatu has been a force of nature. His first splash at Money in the Bank—a chaotic six-man tag where he, Sikoa, and Tama Tonga steamrolled Cody Rhodes, Randy Orton, and Kevin Owens—set the tone. A moonsault from a 300-pound frame defied physics and had crowds buzzing. By August, he and Tonga were tag team champions, and at WrestleMania 41, Fatu cemented his ascent with a United States Championship win over LA Knight in a blistering 11-minute clash. His hip attack into a moonsault finish wasn’t just a pin; it was a statement. Fans, once booing the Bloodline’s heel antics, began to roar for the Samoan Werewolf. “I know it makes our fathers happy; I know it makes our families happy, it makes me happy,” Fatu said. “I’m having fun.”
This organic babyface turn has been a revelation. Fatu’s journey from hired muscle to fan favorite wasn’t scripted—it was earned. His promos, laced with the gritty catchphrase “Yadadamean?” and delivered in a guttural snarl, have an authenticity that resonates. Posts on X capture the fervor: “Jacob Fatu is HIM,” one fan declared, while another pleaded, “WWE, don’t fumble this man’s push!” His US Title reign, though cut short at Night of Champions in July 2025 by Sikoa’s new “MFT” faction (Tonga Loa and JC Mateo interfering), only deepened the crowd’s affection. A steel cage rematch at SummerSlam saw Fatu come up short again, but his relentless fight—headbutts that echoed like gunshots, a springboard moonsault that nearly stole the show—turned jeers to cheers. By his last televised match on August 15, teaming with Jimmy Uso and Sami Zayn to defeat the MFT, the “Fatu” chants were deafening.
Yet, since that SmackDown victory, Fatu’s TV presence has dwindled. He’s been relegated to dark matches—most recently a quick win over Rusev in Toronto on September 19 and a Tornado tag alongside AJ Styles against The New Day. The absence has sparked outcry online. “Where is Jacob Fatu?” one X user demanded, echoing a sentiment that’s trended weekly. Another jabbed at WWE’s creative head, Triple H: “Why is @TripleH hiding Fatu? He’s a main event star!” The frustration is palpable, especially as SmackDown’s ratings dipped to 1.3 million viewers on September 12, with fans citing repetitive booking as the culprit. Fatu’s star power—his blend of Umaga’s ferocity, Rikishi’s charisma, and a modern edge—could be the spark WWE needs.
Backstage, the outlook is brighter. Sources via Fightful Select insist Fatu remains a priority, with Triple H viewing him as a “unique talent” poised for bigger things. Whispers of a draft to Raw or a high-stakes feud with Roman Reigns have surfaced, potentially reigniting the Bloodline saga. Fatu himself has teased aligning with the original Tribal Chief, hinting at a blockbuster reunion to counter Sikoa’s faction at Bad Blood. Such a move could catapult him to the main event, where his skill set—devastating strikes, cruiserweight-like agility, and a magnetic presence—belongs. At 6’3” and over 300 pounds, he’s a rare commodity, equally credible against technicians like Gunther or brawlers like Bron Breakker.
The fans’ embrace of Fatu reflects a deeper connection. The Anoa’i name carries weight, and hearing “Fatu” chanted honors not just Jacob but his family—Jimmy and Jey Uso, Solo Sikoa, and the legacy of their fathers, Rikishi and others. It’s a nod to Samoan pride, to a dynasty that’s shaped wrestling for decades. Fatu’s surprise at the cheers speaks to his humility; his joy in hearing those chants reveals a star embracing his moment. But joy alone won’t keep him on top. WWE’s history is littered with talents who burned bright only to fade—think Karrion Kross or Keith Lee—often due to creative indecision.
As Bad Blood approaches on October 4, 2025, the clock is ticking. Fatu’s not just a wrestler; he’s a phenomenon, a storm brewing in a bloodline of legends. WWE can’t afford to let him simmer in the shadows. A main event push—perhaps a shock cash-in for world gold or a Survivor Series spotlight—could solidify him as the next big thing. His in-ring prowess, from Samoan Spikes to moonsaults, demands it. His charisma, raw and unpolished, commands it. And the fans, chanting “Fatu” with growing fervor, won’t settle for less. WWE, the ball’s in your court—let the Werewolf run wild.
