Ever since WWE and TNA began openly collaborating, fans have debated whether cross-promotional title reigns elevate everyone involved or quietly undermine the home roster. Trick Williams’ time holding the TNA World Championship sits right at the center of that argument, especially for those who felt Joe Hendry’s reign was cut short before it could truly define him.
Williams has no interest in softening that narrative.
While reflecting on his jump into TNA’s title picture, Williams framed Hendry less as a victim of circumstance and more as an opportunity waiting to be taken. “I saw an opportunity, a direct line at the ‘Average Joe’ holding the belt,” Williams said, explaining his mindset at Rebellion. “I said, ‘He don’t know what to do with that thing.’ Let me go and take that up off you.”
That perspective matters because Williams insists the move was never about disrespecting TNA as a brand. In his telling, it was about instinct and positioning, the same calculus that drives top stars everywhere. “I seized the opportunity and made it about myself,” he added, framing the title win as a natural extension of his momentum rather than a calculated invasion.
The fallout, however, was immediate. Williams held the championship for 140 days, appearing across both TNA and NXT, and he could feel the tension the moment he walked backstage. “Oh yeah, they hated me, man. Every second,” Williams admitted. The resentment, he suggested, was understandable given the optics of the situation.
Williams leaned into that heat rather than apologizing for it. “A good, young-looking, dark brother like myself coming in their brand and taking their title, cutting diss tracks on them… there wasn’t nothing to like about me,” he said. “But sometimes that’s what’s best for business.” In wrestling terms, he treated the locker room reaction as confirmation that the angle was working.
Not everyone in TNA pushed back. Williams made a point to credit AJ Francis, one of the few names he mentioned as being supportive during the run. Beyond that, he acknowledged that most interactions stayed frosty, though the lines between real resentment and storyline rivalry remain deliberately blurred given the ongoing WWE-TNA partnership.
At the center of it all sits Joe Hendry, whose popularity never vanished even after losing the title. Williams’ comments do not deny Hendry’s connection with fans, but they do challenge the assumption that momentum alone guarantees a lasting reign. In Williams’ view, holding the belt is about asserting control over the moment, not waiting for permission.
The broader implication stretches beyond these two names. Cross-promotional championships test how fans define legitimacy, loyalty, and payoff, especially when an outsider carries a company’s top prize. Williams’ unapologetic stance reflects a modern wrestling environment where brand lines are thinner and confidence often matters as much as tenure.
Whether fans see Williams as a necessary disruptor or an interloper who cut a story short likely depends on how they view collaboration itself. What is clear is that his TNA title run was designed to provoke exactly this reaction, and the debate around it continues to echo long after the belt changed hands.
