The Ghost of June 2011
Grab a cold one, pull up a stool, and let’s talk about the time WWE actively tried to make us hate wrestling. Wade Keller’s latest retro podcast takes us back to June 2011, a month that felt like a fever dream. We are exactly 15 years to the day from the Pipebomb. But in the weeks leading up to that historic night, the product was a frustrating mess of squandered momentum.
You can listen to the full 106 minutes of that retro broadcast to hear the hosts dissecting a roster loaded with potential. WWE had the pieces to build a new generation of superstars. Instead, Vince McMahon chose to play the hits and bury the guys getting over. It is a wild trip down memory lane.
SmackDown was supposed to be the land of opportunity, but it felt like a hamster wheel. Raw was dominated by the same old main event picture. Meanwhile, TNA was hosting a promotion with the best roster in the world and absolutely no idea how to use it. Let's look at how the major promotions shot themselves in the foot.
The Zack Ryder Blueprint for Self-Sabotage
Let's start with the ultimate symbol of WWE's corporate stubbornness: Zack Ryder. In June 2011, Ryder was the most popular wrestler on the roster who wasn't named John Cena. He didn't get there because of a creative push. He did it himself with a cheap video camera and a YouTube show.
Ryder was selling out merchandise and getting massive crowd reactions every week. When WWE went to Long Island, the arena erupted with chants for a guy who wasn't even booked. Fans in every city were holding up signs and yelling "Woo Woo Woo" during random segments. The office should have printed money.
Instead, WWE treated his popularity like a personal insult. They finally put him on television just to use him as a punching bag. They booked him to get beaten down by monsters and embarrassed in front of his hometown fans. Who could forget the disaster of Kane throwing him off the stage in a wheelchair?
This was the proto-Daniel Bryan situation, but without the happy ending. With Bryan, the fans hijacked the shows so hard that WWE had no choice but to put him in the main event of WrestleMania XXX. With Ryder, they successfully broke his spirit and convinced the fans that their voices didn't matter.
It was a clear message to the locker room: if we didn't invent you, you don't matter. They took a guy with the crowd in his hands and turned him into a joke. It was painful to watch then, and it is even more baffling now. Ryder deserved a real run, not a public execution of his character.
The Alex Riley Mirage
If Ryder was the internet darling, Alex Riley was the corporate prototype who accidentally stumbled into a massive babyface run. Riley had been acting as the bag carrier and lackey for The Miz. At Capitol Punishment in June 2011, Riley finally snapped. He turned on his boss and beat him in a singles match that had the crowd screaming.
For about three weeks, Riley looked like the next big thing. He had a great look, a killer theme song, and that handsome collegiate energy Vince McMahon loves. The pop he got when he attacked Miz on Raw was deafening. He was finally getting a chance to show what he could do outside of Miz's shadow.
But the booking team had no follow-up plan. They booked him in repetitive matches against Jack Swagger and the midcard roster. Rumors swirled that a backstage incident with John Cena killed his push, but the on-screen reality was standard WWE neglect. They simply stopped writing stories for him.
It felt like the mid-90s all over again, when Vince would push a guy like Lex Luger or Ahmed Johnson, get cold feet, and then act like the wrestler was the one who failed. They expected Riley to get over without giving him anything to work with.
Riley's momentum died a slow death on secondary shows like Superstars. Within a couple of years, he was sitting at the NXT commentary table, wondering where it went wrong. It was a classic example of WWE catching lightning in a bottle and throwing the bottle away. Riley wasn't Steve Austin, but he could have been a star.
The Great Christian Robbery
Over on SmackDown, the main event scene was defined by a rivalry that produced incredible matches and terrible booking decisions. Christian had won the World Heavyweight Championship at Extreme Rules in a fantastic ladder match. It was a feel-good moment decades in the making. The fans were ecstatic.
Then, WWE stripped the title away just five days later on a Tuesday taping of SmackDown. Randy Orton won the belt in a match that was undoubtedly great, but the timing was atrocious. WWE took a great, long-term story and flushed it for a quick rating. They turned Christian into a whiny heel who begged for "one more match."
Orton and Christian tore the house down at Over the Limit and Capitol Punishment. Their chemistry was undeniable. Christian reversed RKOs into Killswitches with beautiful timing. But Christian’s character was booked like a total geek who could only win by disqualification. It killed the credibility of the World Heavyweight Championship.
Orton was already a established star who didn't need the belt. Pushing Christian aside so quickly showed a lack of faith in anyone who didn't fit the classic heavyweight mold. It made the entire blue brand feel like a second-class show. SmackDown fans deserved better than a champion who was treated like an afterthought.
TNA's Mid-Life Crisis
While WWE was fumbling their own roster, TNA was busy committing slow-motion suicide in Orlando. In May and June of 2011, the promotion rebranded itself as Impact Wrestling. They launched a new marketing campaign claiming that "wrestling matters here." It was a great slogan that was immediately contradicted by everything on their show.
Instead of highlighting young talents like AJ Styles, Samoa Joe, or Beer Money, TNA devoted their main storylines to Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff. We were subjected to endless promos about business meetings and backstage politics. Sting was running around acting like the Joker, which looked less like a cool gimmick and more like a mid-life crisis.
The company had a roster that could compete with anyone in the world. Bobby Roode and James Storm were putting on tag team clinics every week. AJ Styles was still in his athletic prime, capable of flying across the ring. Yet, the main event of their pay-per-views featured guys who could barely walk down the ramp.
TNA's refusal to build new stars is what doomed the promotion. They had a second chance to capture the fans who were frustrated with WWE's product. Instead, they offered a cheap imitation of WCW from 1999. It was a tragic waste of talent that still stings to think about.
The Pipebomb Redemption
The irony of June 2011 is that all of this frustration was building toward a breaking point. On June 27, CM Punk sat on the stage in Las Vegas and aired all of these grievances to the world. He talked about Zack Ryder not getting on TV, about the corporate ass-kickers, and about the stagnation of the product.
Punk's speech was the safety valve that saved WWE from its own worst instincts. It forced the company to change, if only for a short time. But looking back at the weeks leading up to that night, you realize how close they came to losing the audience. The roster was full of talent, but the machine was geared toward grinding them down.
Fifteen years later, the lesson of June 2011 is still relevant. Promoters can try to force their own narrative all they want, but the crowd will always find a way to make their voices heard. Sometimes, it takes a guy sitting cross-legged on a stage to remind everyone why we fell in love with this business in the first place.