The pop-culture image of Trump as a master negotiator who never loses a deal returned in 2009, when McMahon “sold” Monday Night Raw to Trump — who then turned around and forced McMahon to buy it back for double the price, entrenching Trump’s reputation as a titan of the boardroom. While briefly Raw’s owner, Trump played the billionaire populist by offering free admission to the wrestling showcase to adoring fans. Trump made McMahon pay for Monday Night Raw, just like Mexico is going to pay for a wall.

Trump was now a full-fledged Man of the People. It was all orchestrated, but it didn’t matter: People loved the show.

The spectacle was intoxicating to Trump — and he hasn’t been the same in the public arena since. Reaching back to the ’90s for video clips and interviews of Trump from his Manhattan office or penthouse, you see a more reserved, businesslike Trump — someone desperately trying to control his image with every interview, never fully embracing the person questioning him.

But once he entered the ring, the persona of Trump the showman took over — and it’s this persona that presents itself in politics today, enthralling riled-up crowds ready for a fight. Trump the businessman died the moment he stood nose to nose with Stone Cold Steve Austin. Trump the showman was born as he took a razor to Vince McMahon’s fleshy melon — and like a shark with a taste for blood, that’s all it took.

If Trump could translate his populist success to anything, it had to be politics. His fans, as loyal and rabid as any of John Cena’s, care about Trump’s conservative bona fides about as much as they do the Undertaker’s. What matters to them is that Trump, like the Undertaker, exists to punish their enemies — and that punishing will be broadcast and celebrated.