You notice him before you notice the pyro.
Front row. Dead center. Bright green shirt.
He is there every month. Every Premium Live Event. Every major moment.
Wrestling’s most consistent character is not on the roster. He is in the crowd.
Online, he calls himself “Superfan Smilez.” Most fans just call him the Green Shirt Guy. There are rumors that his name is Simon.
He has been doing this since 2013.
Year after year. Show after show.
The only time he missed was WrestleMania 36, when the pandemic kept everyone home.
His presence became predictable. Almost scripted. Like a recurring character you expect to see every episode. The same shirt. The same seat. The same expression.
And that consistency turned him into a mystery.
Who pays for those seats? Who guarantees that spot? How can one man travel the country and the world to sit in the same chair every time?
Fans built theories. A relative in WWE headquarters slipping him tickets. A secret lifetime deal with the company. A settlement check paid in seats. James Ellsworth even leaned into the myth, joking that Green Shirt Guy traded him a chin for front-row passes forever.
The truth is different. It is not a family connection. It is not a company favor. It is business.
The Baltimore native buys VIP packages through On Location, WWE’s official partner. Those packages cost thousands. They include ringside seats, private entrances, backstage access, even walkouts with wrestlers. On Location has featured him on their own social media. Fans who work with the company have confirmed he is one of their most loyal customers.
That is how you see him in the same spot every time. He pays for it. And he keeps paying for it.
Some fans refuse to accept that explanation. It feels too simple. Folklore is more fun. The mystery is part of wrestling itself. We love secrets. We love hidden truths. That is why the free-ticket myth never dies.
But the reality is just as interesting.
Because Green Shirt Guy has turned himself into part of the show. He has been used on camera, like the time Kevin Owens leaned on him during the Elias and Ezekiel story. He has been acknowledged on social media by WWE itself. His seat is a visual landmark, a piece of broadcast consistency.
WWE knows he will be there. The production crew can count on him. The audience at home expects him. That dependability makes him valuable, even if he is not officially on the payroll.
Of course, that visibility comes at a cost. He has been criticized for keeping his hat on during the national anthem. He has been called an eyesore, an attention-seeker, a distraction. Others call him a national treasure. A loyalist. A fan who never wavers.
That debate has created a feedback loop. The more people notice him, the more the company acknowledges him. The more the company acknowledges him, the more people notice. It is a cycle unique to this era, where being on camera can turn a fan into a character.
Green Shirt Guy is more than a fan. He is proof of a new economy in sports entertainment.
WWE has moved beyond selling single tickets. They sell experiences. They sell access. They sell the chance to feel closer than ever. Green Shirt Guy buys that chance every time.
And because he does, he has become part of wrestling’s modern landscape. Not with a promo. Not with a finishing move. With a seat.
Look ringside at the next event. You will see him. The green shirt. The same spot. The same story.
A fan who became unforgettable by never missing a moment.

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