WWE is incapable of regret, you understand.
It is a company capable of introspection in 2020 - the John Cena babyface myth was destroyed within weeks of Triple H acknowledging that he has heard crickets more often than not in his big matches - but a regret that informs systemic change, not so much.
They don't regret anything. But they should.
Trace the decline in popularity from 2001 to now, and an interesting and damning correlation surfaces: the twilight hours of the Attitude Era transitioned into the woeful diminished viewership of Ruthless Aggression and beyond via a shift from collaborative expression to the heavily-scripted creative model ushered in by new Head of Creative Stephanie McMahon. The change from booking to writing, incited by a toxic and counterproductive we-know-best arrogance, haemorrhaged viewers.
Far be it from me to say that Road Dogg has not a f*cking clue about really matters, but he recently reinforced this wildly damaging company line: a talent must be trusted to cut a promo before they are given license to get over in the time-honoured tradition that spanned the entirety of when it was big time.
WWE Creative 3:16 says water moccasins, feet, and magic beans. It is not good.
But it is the way.