Money in the Bank 2026 was a total fever dream

The mid-card black hole we didn't ask for

Let’s be honest: WWE's booking team clearly had a deadline to hit and decided to fill the gaps with the mid-card equivalent of a gas station ham sandwich. Kicking off the rankings at the bottom is the Intercontinental Championship bout between Chad Gable and Bron Breakker. Look, I love watching Gable sell like he’s actually dying on a hardwood floor, but this match was essentially ten minutes of frantic mat work leading to a finish so screwy it made me miss the days of simple pinfall victories. It was disjointed, messy, and felt like it belonged on a Superstars episode from 2012 rather than a premium live event.

Things didn't get much better with the Women’s Tag Team Championship farce. Seeing Shayna Baszler and Zoey Stark work is always a treat, but forcing them to play babysitter to a team that clearly just started training together on the flight over to the arena felt insulting. It was a glorified squash that lasted twice as long as it should have, leaving the crowd in the 15,000 seat arena quieter than a library during finals week. If you’re going to put belts on the line, at least make sure the challengers haven't just finished their first basic wrestling seminar.

The briefcase chaos saved the night

Then we got to the men’s Money in the Bank ladder match, and suddenly the fog cleared. This was the exact level of controlled anarchy we needed to keep the bar stools from being thrown at the screen. Credit where it is due: Jacob Fatu is an absolute athletic freak of nature. Seeing him hit a moonsault off the top of a ladder onto three other guys wasn't just a highlight—it was a statement that he is the future of the top-tier main event scene. The final sequence where he teased a crash-and-burn before grabbing the briefcase was artful.

The women’s ladder match was arguably better, providing a masterclass in how to use props without looking like a rehearsal for a high school theater troupe. Lyra Valkyria taking that horrific bump off the side ladder was the exact moment the energy in the building shifted from polite applause to genuine “are-you-kidding-me” terror. It wasn't perfect—there were three separate moments where the ladder placement looked like it was being done by blindfolded toddlers—but the intensity carried it. Compared to the recent industry chatter about the company's creative direction, this match proved that pure guts still sell tickets better than polished promos.

The main event we deserved, mostly

Finally, we have the main event: Cody Rhodes versus Solo Sikoa for the Undisputed WWE Championship. I know, I know—everyone is tired of the Bloodline saga hogging the oxygen in the room. But damn it, these two actually put on a clinic. Cody selling the knee injury was crisp, forcing the audience to actually bite on the near-falls. When he hit the third Cross Rhodes for the 28-minute mark victory, it felt earned rather than mandated by a boardroom.

The downside? The post-match interference. It’s like watching a great movie and having someone start playing loud techno music over the final scene. Must we really have a run-in every single time the bell rings? It’s the crutch that makes a 4-star match feel like a 2-star slog, and frankly, I'm bored of it. We know the story beats by now, and adding three more guys running to the ring to pose in hoodies just dilutes the product. I suppose as recent sports coverage might suggest, if it makes money, they won't change the formula. But for those of us watching at the bar, it’s just exhausting.

Overall, the show was a classic case of WWE style: two hours of filler, thirty minutes of legitimate brilliance, and enough nonsense in the middle to make you wonder if they're testing our patience. I walked in wanting a coherent card, and I walked out having seen a man jump off a twenty-foot ladder while a championship reign was protected with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It was frustrating, loud, and weirdly addictive. Just don't ask me to defend that undercard under oath.