AEW Five Fingers of Death 2/19 - 2/25

AEW Collision 2/24/24

Bryan Danielson vs Jun Akiyama

MD: One of the last couple of times I discussed Eddie Kingston, I waxed poetic on how I can write about him as if it was all real, that I barely even need to go into mechanics or subtext, because the text itself is so rich and immersive. I mentioned at the time the one other thing that popped off the top of my head as something I could do that with, Jumbo Tsuruta vs Genichiro Tenryu, especially towards the end of their rivalry in that vaunted year of 1989. By that point, the virus of violence that had infected All Japan Pro Wrestling with the arrival of Riki Choshu ("The Carrier"), and that had first infected Tenryu, was now lodged in the heart of Tsuruta. Tenryu admitted it, embraced it, used it to fuel a Revolution. Tsuruta, however, denied it, decried it, claimed himself to be an Olympian, a hero, a gentleman, an athlete, a paragon. Yet again and again, when his back was pushed against the wall, and no one could push him back or push his buttons quite as well as Tenryu, his true colors shone through.

That leads us to Bryan Danielson, Eddie Kingston, and the year 2024. We are in the midst of Danielson's golden year, a year where he gets to wrestle Blue Panther at Arena Mexico, where he gets to wrestle Okada and Sabre, Jr. in Japan, where a round robin tournament was created just for him, and where every match feels special. He is pro wrestling's warrior monk, a man who reads three books at a time, who has absorbed all the wisdom to be found in pro wrestling and seeks for truth and meaning outside of it in a way so few of his peers can manage. He holds to the tenets of family, of hard work, of knowing one's self, of fighting through broken limbs and finding joy and humor in both the sacrosanct and the profane.

Is it his year though? Is it really? Within the same walls, the same promotion, the same world, even, is a man who has been living out his dreams, who has been meeting his heroes and finding himself their equal, who finally, after decades of toil, has found the value in his own worth and has turned it into strength and resolve. This is a man who bet on himself, who overcame his greatest rival, Danielson's teammate, and then ultimately his greatest monster, himself. The tournament was made for Danielson. Eddie Kingston won it. In winning it, he claimed a prize of his own making, a triple crown for a new era. He beat Claudio. He beat Moxley. He beat Danielson. And why did he beat Danielson? Because while Kingston bet on himself, Danielson bet not on Danielson, but against Kingston. He bet that Kingston would break under the pressure as he almost always had before. He lost that bet. Subsequently, he lost to Okada, was stretched by Hechicero, lost to Sabre. One's left to wonder, during this capstone year of Danielson's glory, if momentum, if fate itself, has shifted to his polar opposite, has shifted to Eddie Kingston.

And so, much as they had 35 years before with Tsuruta and Tenryu, underneath the pressure that Eddie Kingston represents, the cracks have begun to show in Bryan Danielson. They were there in the pre-match interview with Lexy, calling her out for not saying Akiyama was legendary (for Danielson is the authority on this; of course he is), declaring his respect for Akiyama but stating clearly and firmly that he was about to beat him in front of Kingston, and more than anything else, seething over Kingston's lack of professionalism, for Danielson holds himself and those around him to a impeccable standard.

Then came the match itself. Danielson cupped his ear to call to the crowd, playing to them more so than usual, as if he needed to ensure that Akiyama, despite being a legend, wouldn't be cheered over him. He broke clean with the first contact, but put his hands out and then up, making a big deal of it, showing everyone that he was the professional gentleman athlete. Twice in the match, including right before the finish, he started the Yes chants, something he almost never does now. He did it in the first Okada match but it was to help paste over the injury. This was entirely different. He threw Germans in a way that he wouldn't normally, and I half wonder if it wasn't to set up a fighting spirit moment of suplex trading with Akiyama, just to show he could. In years' past, almost none of this would be necessary, because Danielson had nothing to prove to anyone; he was wrestling this match like he needed to prove something to the crowd, to Kingston, to himself. And he did prove something, surviving the clash of knees, putting Akiyama down, even shaking his hand gracious like a professional. But then cracks became fissures. He looked to Eddie, rubbed it in with his middle finger, and when Akiyama took offense, Danielson backpedaled before turning a second shake into a unconscionable low blow.

This was a dream match of sorts, but one caught within certain limitations: time, scale, age. Moreover, it had to serve the moment, to serve a greater purpose, nominally as part of Danielson's golden year, but in truth, a key stop on the road to Revolution and two world views, two differing mentalities, two philosophies of pro wrestling and life clashing against one another. So while it may not have been a perfect match (and I could write another paragraph on Nigel valiantly cashing in his built up credibility for a very good cause during the commercial break, but it would be too much a digression), it perfectly served its purpose to be the straw that broke the camel's back and pushed Danielson over the edge.