Consulting with the Mount Rushmore of backstage creative
Ricky Saints is finally pulling back the curtain on how the sausage gets made. In a recent move that is frankly overdue for someone of his stature, he has identified the holy trinity of WWE creative minds he trusts with his career trajectory. It is clear that Saints isn't just floating through his current run; he is actively networking with the people who hold the keys to the kingdom.
The folks on the ground at Wrestling Inc confirmed that Saints is going straight to the top when he needs validation on a pitch. He isn't wasting time with low-level writers or middle-management. He is going right to Cody Rhodes, Paul Heyman, and Michael Hayes.
The move of a man who knows the history
Look, you could do a lot worse than these three. If you want to understand the mechanics of a long-term babyface run, you talk to Rhodes. If you want to learn how to turn a promo into a decade-defining religion, you grab Heyman for twenty minutes in gorilla. And Michael Hayes? The man has been booking for longer than half the roster has been alive.
Still, let's be critical for a second. Relying on the same three guys in a locker room of dozens can create a bottleneck. You end up with a homogenization of style when every top guy is filtering their promos through the same three lenses. It worked for the Attitude Era because those minds were distinct, but in 2026, it risks creating a creative echo chamber. Is it smart? Absolutely. Is it risky for the broader growth of the show? You bet.
Connecting the dots in the back
Rhodes brings that post-AEW, main-event-or-bust energy that has completely changed how the company handles top-tier talent. Heyman is the undisputed king of psychological warfare; he could book a match between a mop and a bucket and find a way to make you hate the mop. As for P.S. Hayes, there is a reason he is still there through every regime change. He knows the cadence. He knows the television rhythm that keeps people from hitting the channel changer during the third hour.
Saints is effectively playing 4D chess. By aligning himself with these three, he is positioning his own narrative to be bulletproof. It is a classic move from the playbook of guys like Bret Hart or Triple H in their prime. They didn't just walk to the ring and wait for instructions; they had their hands on the pen before the script reached the Xerox machine.
The danger of over-reliance
Taking advice is great, but don't drink your own Kool-Aid. The moment you stop questioning the feedback from these industry veterans, you lose that raw, experimental spark that made you a star in the first place. History is littered with guys who listened only to the "smart" producers and ended up becoming sanitized versions of themselves.
For a guy like Saints, the goal should be to incorporate this advice, not replace his own gut instinct with it. If his segments start feeling like a combination of a Rhodes-style monologue followed by a Heyman-inflected beatdown, the fans will sniff it out by the 15th week. He has the tools, but he needs to make sure the end result stays his own.
We have seen this movie before. The talent consults the legends, the legends give them a safety net, and suddenly every promo sounds like it was written in 1998. Great for brand consistency, but death for genuine, modern excitement. Saints needs to balance that institutional knowledge with his own erratic, authentic vibe.
