Down goes the Undertaker. Now what?

There is something vaguely odd about writing a eulogy for a character built on a caricature of death. But, with the end of The Undertaker’s WrestleMania reign, this is where we are. The Undertaker’s 21-year winning streak at WrestleMania was practically synonymous with the event itself, and a monument of consistency in an industry that generally — and certainly in the primetime TV era — abhors it. With Brock Lesnar pinning the Undertaker at WrestleMania XXX on Sunday night, that concrete obelisk has collapsed to dust as well. May all of it rest in peace.

This day had been a long time coming, though that made its arrival no less of a shock. “The Undertaker” is Mark Calaway, a 49-year-old man who looks and moves like he’s at least a decade older than that. The quantity and quality of his matches had suffered markedly over the last few years, and it just wasn’t very fun to watch this aging dude plod through his match with Lesnar on Sunday.

Despite the subpar match — it was probably the worst on the main card, aside from the unholy mess that was the immediately ensuing 14-diva, single-fall “invitational” — the New Orleans crowd reacted with shock and disbelief as the referee counted three. Part of that was because the match hadn’t done a very good job of making the case that Undertaker might, you know, lose the match; the Undertaker kicked out of two Brock Lesnar F-5s to tepid applause, the polite cheers themselves an indication of what an albatross the streak had become when it came to scripting exciting matches. As Steven Godfrey noted, the streak was beginning to cheapen the entire body of work the Undertaker had put together. In recent years, especially, it has been hard to disagree.

Another part, though, is that it was hard to be satisfied with that match being the end. Most wrestling fans would probably be able to accept the Undertaker’s streak coming to a close in a match that was filled with drama, massive offense, plausible near-falls — basically, something like his two matches against Shawn Michaels in 2010 and 2011.

But if the Undertaker were still physically capable of putting on a show like that, he wouldn’t be bowing out. That’s not how it works. He’s used up. Tired. Old. It happens to us all.

Still though, it’s easy to understand the crowd’s mixture of shock and awe in the immediate aftermath. This is a big deal. And though the Undertaker was in some ways a relic of a bygone era, he had been around so long that, especially for younger fans, the Undertaker was not just integral but central to the WrestleMania experience.

But that’s what makes this work, isn’t it? Here is a reminder that the end comes for us all, you may or may not see it coming, and that raging against it will get you nothing.

Moreover, if the lead-up to the match itself didn’t do a good enough job of selling the notion that the Undertaker might lose — a perfectly fine opinion to hold, by the way — that’s on the WWE. Pro wrestling matches aren’t the closing arguments to cases built in the weeks preceding. “Wrestler X can’t lose to Wrestler Y because their in-ring confrontations were pretty one-sided” might make sense in the abstract but, again, that’s not how it works. If anything, it was past time to write the Undertaker out of WrestleMania. Saying, “well, the promos weren’t great, we’ll do it next year” was not an option.

And yes, the Undertaker is clearly done wrestling. WrestleMania was his only thing for years, and now that that’s gone — and let’s hope he’s not showing up next year asking to make it 22-1 — there’s simply nothing left for him in the ring. It’s not like he had much left to give there anyway.

So the streak ends at 21. There are some truly legendary matches among those 21, and some clunkers, but all in all — and beyond that big number — this was a really impressive body of work. It has become increasingly obvious over the last few years is that WrestleMania can survive without the streak and without the Undertaker. That time has come.

Indeed, this loss was a part of what was arguably the most transformative WrestleMania ever. The long-awaited coronation of Daniel Bryan is the most visible and important aspect of that, but also consider the rising futures of Bray Wyatt, the Shield and Antonio Cesaro, all of whom dazzled on the grand stage Sunday night. Three years ago, none of those guys had so much as fought in a WrestleMania. Now, they’re poised to take the WWE over — to take it from the likes of the Undertaker, as a literal matter of fact.

With the wrestling part done, it’s tough to know what’s next for “the Undertaker.” The WWE often uses retired superstars in spot roles — WrestleMania XXX was full of them, even by WrestleMania standards — but his comedic value’s near zero*, he never established himself as a quick or innovative talker on the microphone and it’s not like he can just start showing up like, “hey guys Mark Calaway here” and palling around like a normal guy.

*This isn’t meant pejoratively, mind you; it’s just that WWE was smart enough to know that you don’t drag your morbid, ghastly freight train off the tracks for the sake of, say, a bad breath joke. That character, more than any before or since — with the possible coming exception of Bray Wyatt — needs that over-the-top seriousness to survive. Otherwise he’s just another schmuck with greasy hair and a temper.

Then again, this is pro wrestling, where the rules are made up and the belts don’t matter, so if ‘Taker really wants to put in the work on transitioning to some other sort of on-air role, WWE would probably let him — we’ll likely see some indications of that Monday night as the Undertaker will almost certainly address the crowd. A non-wrestling Undertaker/Calaway on the air would be weird at first, but so what? Transitions usually are, and change is both necessary and good.

Even then, though, to say it wouldn’t be the same would be putting it mildly. The streak is over. The Undertaker is no more. Time marches on for all of us, including the Dead Man. So it goes.