πŸŽ™ Gorilla Position Β· WAW Weekly Column Β· Monday, June 22, 2026

Night of Champions is 72 hours away, WWE is running a daytime go-home show from the O2 Arena in London, and somehow the most revealing storyline of the week involves a Hall of Famer relitigating politics from 2003. It has been that kind of week β€” where the business happening offscreen is often more compelling than anything scripted. Let’s get into it.

Goldberg’s Triple H Grievance Is a Window Into How WWE Actually Worked

Bill Goldberg going on record to say that walking into WWE in 2003 felt like an uphill battle from day one β€” specifically because of Triple H’s marriage to Stephanie McMahon β€” is not exactly a shocking revelation, but the candour behind it matters. This is not a bitter outsider taking shots; this is a Hall of Famer, on good terms with the company, simply telling the truth about how power operated inside Titan Towers during that era. Triple H’s ability to shape his own booking and influence roster decisions during his in-ring prime is one of the most documented and contested subjects in wrestling history, and Goldberg naming it plainly in 2026 adds another credible voice to a very long list. What makes this interesting today is the irony: Triple H is now the head of creative, widely praised for booking a more collaborative and talent-forward product, and the contrast between that reputation and the 2003 version he’s being described as is genuinely stark. Goldberg calling Brock Lesnar his greatest rival in the same breath is almost the secondary story β€” though it does remind you that WrestleMania XX, for all its infamous problems, was built on a feud the crowd had completely turned against for reasons that had nothing to do with either man. The real takeaway here is that wrestling’s modern era depends heavily on us trusting that the people in power have changed, and conversations like this are useful because they keep us honest about that trust.

The Dogs Signing With AEW Is the Most Interesting Roster Move of the Month

Gabe Kidd, David Finlay, and Clark Connors β€” collectively operating as The Dogs β€” landing in AEW is the kind of signing that doesn’t generate mainstream headlines but absolutely should among anyone paying attention to the tag division and upper-midcard landscape in Tony Khan’s promotion. All three men have spent the last few years doing serious, credible work in New Japan, with Kidd in particular developing into one of the most legitimately compelling characters in the world. Robbie X’s response β€” essentially wishing them well and noting that things are going well for all the former Bullet Club alumni β€” is gracious, but it also underlines just how dramatically that group has scattered across the industry. The more pressing question is what AEW actually does with them: the promotion has a documented history of signing credible international talent and then failing to give them a consistent creative lane, and The Dogs are the kind of act that will thrive or flounder entirely based on whether someone in that building understands what made them work in NJPW. If Khan’s team treats them like a ready-made faction with a clear purpose, this could be a genuine injection of edge into a roster that sometimes lacks it. If they get lost in the shuffle by September, it will be another entry in a frustrating pattern.

The Tommy Dreamer Situation Deserves More Than Reflexive Tribalism

A wrestling student and referee named Perch has made public allegations that Tommy Dreamer threatened their career during a TNA event, and the industry’s immediate response β€” with figures like Missy Hyatt rushing to vouch for his character β€” illustrates exactly why these situations rarely get examined properly. Dreamer’s reputation as a generous, hard-working veteran is genuinely well-established, and that context matters. But “he has always been good to me” is not a rebuttal to a specific allegation from someone with far less power in the industry, and the speed with which the wagons circle around veteran names in wrestling is a dynamic worth naming openly. Nobody is obligated to treat an allegation as a conviction, but the reflexive character defence β€” which almost always comes from peers of roughly equal or greater standing β€” has a habit of drowning out the original account before it gets scrutinised on its merits. Dreamer deserves the opportunity to respond directly and clearly, and Perch’s account deserves the same straightforward engagement, not a social media chorus of credential-vouching from people who weren’t in the room.

Andre Chase Not Getting an Explanation for Chase U’s End Tells You Everything About NXT Creative Right Now

Andre Chase revealing that NXT creative could not explain why Chase University was being disbanded is funny in a bleak way, and it is also genuinely indicative of a structural problem in how decisions get made at the developmental brand. Chase U was one of the most organically over acts NXT has produced in years β€” built on Chase’s commitment, genuine crowd investment, and a group of characters that felt distinct from the main roster aesthetic. The fact that it was ended without anyone in a creative position being able to articulate why suggests either that the call came from above creative’s pay grade, or that it was made reactively rather than strategically. What bothers me most about this story is not the decision itself β€” creative calls get made, acts get broken up, that’s the business β€” it is the absence of a plan. If you dismantle something that is working, you should at minimum know what you are building in its place, and the inability to communicate any rationale to the performer most affected is a failure of basic creative leadership. Chase is talented enough to rebuild momentum solo, but he deserved better process than this.

John Cena’s Advice to Cody Rhodes Is Simple, But the Simplicity Is the Point

Cody Rhodes sharing that John Cena’s core advice was essentially “just be you” sounds like a greeting card sentiment until you consider the specific context in which Rhodes needed to hear it. The period between Cody’s return to WWE and his WrestleMania 40 coronation was full of genuine uncertainty about whether the audience would stay with him β€” whether the sympathy would curdle, whether the story would collapse under its own weight. The fact that Cena, who spent two decades managing the gap between his authentic self and a corporate construct, was the one urging him toward authenticity is quietly significant. Cena knew better than almost anyone what happens when you try to correct your course based on crowd noise rather than conviction. For Rhodes, who had built his return almost entirely on personal narrative and emotional investment, that advice was probably the most practical thing anyone could have told him β€” not a creative note, but a psychological anchor. It also says something decent about Cena that his mentorship, as his in-ring career winds down, seems oriented around giving younger talent permission to trust themselves rather than moulding them in his image.

This week’s wrestling landscape, as it so often does, reveals more about the industry through its margins than its main events. A go-home show in London, a faction dispersal across continents, a creative department that can’t explain its own decisions, and a 2003 political grievance still worth relitigating in 2026 β€” these are the threads that actually tell you where the business is and where it’s heading. Night of Champions will come and go, and we’ll have results to process by next column. But the stuff that lingers tends to be the stuff nobody scripted.

Kayfabe or Reality?

Wrestling constantly blurs the line between storyline and real life. Five statements β€” did this actually happen, or is it part of the show?

Question 1 of 5