There’s something about the desert — the way the heat clings to the bones, the way it melts illusions and spits truth in your face like a pissed-off bartender. In Saudi Arabia, beneath chandeliers of LED flame and a crowd burning with smartphone starlight, Cody Rhodes walked into the Night of Champions like a man chasing both ghosts and glory. And by the time it was over — after dodging the venom strikes of Randy Orton and flinging himself into one more dream soaked in his father’s shadow — Rhodes wasn’t just victorious. He was King.
Not some cute gimmick with a plastic crown and a turkey leg. No. This was Rhodes planting a flag in the charred soil of WWE history. This was Rhodes crossing into sacred territory — the elite ring of legends who’ve pulled off the trifecta: King of the Ring, Royal Rumble, and WWE Champion.
Moments after beating Orton — a man who moves like a cobra that’s done time — Rhodes didn’t waste time in ceremony. He updated his X bio. Simple. Brutal. Honest.
“KING.”
The Road That Bleeds
For most wrestlers, a crown is just a prop. For Cody Rhodes, it’s the punctuation at the end of a sentence he started writing with his own torn flesh — back when he fought Seth Rollins inside Hell in a Cell with a pectoral muscle that looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. That night wasn’t about the match. It was about pain. About defiance. About screaming back at the void and refusing to blink.
He won the 2023 Royal Rumble. Then he lost his coronation at WrestleMania 39. Roman Reigns stood tall, and Rhodes went back to the gym — back to the weight of legacy. But in 2024, he did it again. Another Rumble. Another resurrection. This time, there was no derailment. Not even The Rock — Hollywood’s boulder-sized ego wrapped in a Samoan bloodline — could knock him off course.
At WrestleMania 41, Rhodes finished the story. Now, with this King of the Ring win, he’s writing new chapters in ink mixed with dust, sweat, and Daddy’s old polka dots.
Kings of the Ring Before Him
Rhodes isn’t the first to ride this flaming chariot. He now drinks from the same battered goblet as Bret Hart — the man who looked like a rock star and wrestled like a surgeon. Hart didn’t just win the King of the Ring; he defined it. Twice. Once in ‘91. Again in ‘93. Then came the Rumble win, and the belt around his waist as he stood tall at WrestleMania X. The Hitman wasn’t flashy, but he didn’t miss. A chess player in a world of brawlers.
Then there was Steve Austin, all beer breath and broken necks. In ‘96, after beating Jake “The Snake” Roberts in the final, Austin cracked open the gospel with a line that sent Vince McMahon’s world spinning: Austin 3:16 says I just whooped your ass. He went on to win three Rumbles, six titles, and the war against WCW. He was the middle finger to corporate wrestling’s handshake. He was barroom violence in black boots.
Triple H came next. The man who played the long game. In ‘97, he took the King of the Ring crown after getting punished for the infamous “Curtain Call.” He turned that punishment into motivation. He was a gym-built warhorse with a shovel in one hand and a dynasty in the other. Nine WWE titles. Two Rumble wins. He didn’t just play the game — he rewrote the rules in his own spit-polished image.
Edge, the Rated-R Superstar, won it in 2001. That was the starting pistol. By 2006, he was cashing in the first-ever Money in the Bank on John Cena and taking the title like a thief in the night. Rumbles followed. So did injury. Retirement. Then a miraculous return in 2020 that made grown men cry into their replica belts. Edge was chaos wrapped in charisma.
Brock Lesnar bulldozed through it all in 2002, winning King of the Ring, Royal Rumble, and WWE gold faster than anyone before or since. He was a human sledgehammer. A neckless gladiator who didn’t just conquer the squared circle — he kicked in the door at UFC and beat Randy Couture to become heavyweight champ there, too. The man is a storm with a buzzcut.
Sheamus made the list in reverse — WWE Title first, then the crown, then the Rumble. He beat Daniel Bryan at WrestleMania XXVIII in 18 seconds, turning Bryan into an underdog icon and himself into a Celtic folk tale with fists.
And now… Rhodes.
A King, But Not the End
Cody Rhodes isn’t just a WWE Champion. He’s not just a Rumble winner. He’s not just a King. He’s a reminder that the best wrestling stories aren’t born in booking rooms — they’re forged in failure, stitched together with crowd chants, bruises, and belief.
You can’t fake what Rhodes has done. You can’t rehearse that kind of pain — or that kind of patience. Every time he falls, he rises again, dragging behind him the ghost of his father and the expectations of every kid who ever dreamed of more than mid-card status.
His crown isn’t gold. It’s scar tissue. It’s resolve. It’s the quiet that comes after the pop.
He’s not the King because he says so.
He’s the King because he bled for it.
