Bully Ray rarely misses when dissecting the psychology of a babyface in peril. When the Hall of Famer went on record this week stating that Gunther needs to defeat Cody Rhodes for the WWE Championship at Clash In Italy, he wasn't just throwing out a hot take for engagement. As reported by WrestleTalk, he identified the core mechanical flaw in Cody’s current run. The story relies entirely on overcoming adversity, and right now, the adversity feels entirely manufactured.

"I want to take the hope from Cody away."

Ray argued that taking that hope away is the correct booking decision. He is absolutely right. The thrill of the chase is what built the American Nightmare's undeniable connection with the audience. Since holding the gold, the dynamic has fundamentally shifted. We are no longer hoping he achieves his dream; we are simply watching him defend a corporate asset on a scheduled loop.

The problem with the triumphant hero

Look at the trajectory since WrestleMania 41. Cody finally conquered the mountain. He finished the story on the grandest stage. But in professional wrestling, finishing the story is often a creative death sentence. The moment the referee's hand hits the mat for the third time, the protagonist loses their defining motivation. The struggle is over, replaced by obligation.

Cody's recent title defenses have been structurally sound but emotionally hollow. They follow a rigid, predictable formula. The challenger gets the heat, Cody sells a localized injury, the crowd rallies, and we get the patented comeback sequence. The snap powerslam. The Disaster Kick. The Cody Cutter. It is a greatest hits compilation played to a fading pop. It is highly effective crowd control, but it is no longer compelling, unpredictable television.

WWE is notoriously stubborn when it comes to long title reigns. The creative team will drag a babyface run through the mud long after the audience has started checking their collective watches. We saw it with Seth Rollins during his suffocating run with the Universal Championship. We saw it, endlessly, with John Cena during the late 2000s. Cody is dangerously close to crossing that exact threshold from beloved underdog to overexposed corporate champion.

There is a distinct lack of jeopardy in Cody’s matches right now. When he steps between the ropes, the result feels preordained. The near-falls don't generate the same gasps they did six months ago. The audience knows the script, and they are simply waiting for the inevitable sequence of three Cross Rhodes to send everyone home happy. That is a dangerous comfort zone for a top draw.

Enter the Ring General

This brings us to Gunther. There is no one on the active roster better equipped to violently dismantle a predictable babyface routine. Gunther does not wrestle matches; he conducts brutal autopsies in the middle of the ring.

Gunther's style is the absolute antithesis of the modern, sequence-heavy main event style that Cody thrives on. He does not trade high spots. He chops the chest until the skin breaks and the capillaries burst. He applies basic, agonizing submissions and holds onto them past the point of viewer comfort. He forces his opponents to abandon their game plan and slow down to his glacial, punishing pace.

Just look at how Gunther was booked last week. Following his routine, methodical dismantling of Royce Keys, he didn't grab a microphone and cut a twenty-minute promo. He simply stood there, an immovable object, projecting an aura of quiet violence. He is the cold, calculated reality check to Cody's fiery, emotional passion.

Let's break down the actual tape. Cody's greatest matches—the Hell in a Cell classic with a torn pec, the grueling back-and-forth epics against Roman Reigns—were built on his ability to absorb an inhuman amount of punishment before firing back with a sudden, explosive flurry of offense. He lulls the opponent into a false sense of security before striking.

Gunther does not suffer from a false sense of security. He does not get sloppy when he is in control. If you watch his tape, he maintains the exact same clinical precision in the opening minute as he does deep into the match. He does not give you an opening to hit a desperation Disaster Kick. If Cody goes for that springboard, Gunther will simply catch him mid-air and transition immediately into a Boston Crab or a sleeper hold.

This clash of styles is exactly what Cody desperately needs. Gunther won't play along with the standard American Nightmare comeback mechanics. If Cody goes for the Cody Cutter, Gunther isn't going to stand there, dazed, waiting to catch him. He is going to swat him out of the air with a brutal lariat, or simply sidestep and let the champion crash face-first into the canvas.

Think about Gunther's historic, record-setting 666-day Intercontinental Championship reign. He elevated that midcard title not through elaborate soap opera storylines, but through sheer in-ring brutality and an aura of absolute inevitability. He treats the ring like a combat zone, stripping away the sports entertainment gloss and replacing it with stiff strikes, heavy suplexes, and unyielding pressure. He makes you believe that every single maneuver hurts.

The mechanics of a European execution

Clash In Italy provides the perfect, cinematic backdrop for this necessary title change. It is a massive international stadium show, likely packed with a vocal, hostile environment for the American hero. Across the ring stands an opponent who represents old-school European catch wrestling and stiff striking. The visual of Gunther standing tall with the WWE Championship in front of a divided international crowd writes itself.

The match needs to be a systematic dissection, not a back-and-forth thriller. Gunther should target Cody's neck and shoulder immediately following the opening bell, neutralizing the torque needed for the Cross Rhodes. Every time Cody attempts to build a sequence of momentum, Gunther needs to cut him off with a heavy, thudding strike that resets the pace.

The story of the match cannot be the tired trope of "Cody fighting valiantly from underneath." It has to be "Cody realizing, minute by minute, that he is entirely outclassed." The panic needs to set in. The realization that the standard playbook is failing.

This is precisely where Bully Ray's concept of taking the hope away materializes. The crowd needs to genuinely believe that Cody cannot physically win this contest. Not because of outside interference from a rogue faction, not because of a contrived ref bump, but because the man standing across from him is simply a superior, more ruthless competitor. The air needs to be sucked out of the building.

Why the title must change hands

Let's look at the alternative. If Cody retains in Italy, where exactly does he go? He has already conquered the remnants of the Bloodline. If he cleanly beats Gunther, he has cleared out the two most credible, deeply built threats on the entire roster. The creative well runs completely dry immediately following the premium live event.

He would instantly become a dominant champion with no credible challengers on the horizon, left waiting for the next hastily manufactured threat to emerge on Monday Night Raw. That is how you get filler feuds that damage a champion's drawing power.

A decisive loss to Gunther resets the entire board. It gives Cody his single most valuable asset back: his vulnerability. He immediately becomes the chaser again. The narrative shifts instantly from "defending the corporate crown" to "desperately trying to reclaim the throne." It allows him to show real frustration, to doubt his own abilities, and to evolve his character beyond the smiling, suit-wearing ambassador role he is currently trapped in.

Furthermore, Gunther holding the top prize opens up a myriad of fascinating, fresh stylistic matchups for the summer premium live events. Imagine Gunther defending against a pure technician like Chad Gable in a thirty-minute classic, or a brutal, hard-hitting program with Ilja Dragunov over the most prestigious prize in the industry. The match quality at the top of the card would instantly skyrocket, offering a completely different flavor of main event.

The definitive prediction

I am not hedging my bets here with a safe, non-committal take. The booking is staring the creative team right in the face, and despite their historical reluctance to pull the trigger on abrupt, heat-generating title changes, they cannot ignore the absolute necessity of this move.

The current main event scene is stagnating. It is relying entirely too heavily on lingering fumes from WrestleMania and Cody's residual goodwill. That goodwill has an expiration date, and it is rapidly approaching.

At Clash In Italy, Gunther will defeat Cody Rhodes for the WWE Championship. It will not be a dusty, controversial finish. It will not involve a convoluted run-in or a distracting finish. Gunther will systematically break Rhodes down over twenty-five grueling minutes.

The finish will be decisive. Gunther will eventually lock in a suffocating sleeper hold, draining the life from the champion, or deliver a devastating powerbomb in the center of the ring to secure the clean pinfall.

The image of Gunther raising the championship will be jarring for the younger fans. It will be quiet. It will drain the energy from the stadium, exactly as Bully Ray suggested. Taking the hope away isn't just a classic heel tactic; right now, it is the only viable way to save Cody Rhodes from the boredom of his own success. The Ring General takes the gold, and the entire direction of WWE television shifts overnight.