AEW Five Fingers of Death 2/26 - 3/3 Part 2

AEW Revolution 3/3/24

Sting/Darby Allin vs Young Bucks

MD: I was on the fence whether to write this up or not. It's one of those matches that defies analysis, transcendent in the emotion. With a week's distance, however, I figured that maybe it might be fun to try to take a more clinical approach to something so impossible to break down. As I was writing, I think I ended up getting emotional anyway, but I'll at least give it a go. Let's start with the Bucks. I do not write often about the Bucks. I won't deny their talent certainly. I have a long essay in me about how they got ahead by breaking norms because if they would have wrestled within the norms, no matter how well they might have done it, they would have never gotten ahead. That's admirable on the one hand and probably very destructive in another. Metatextual deconstruction in an art form that relies upon suspension of disbelief is harmful over time. It takes a genie out of a bottle, changes incentives, modifies the relationship between wrestler and fan. I absolutely believe that it was what they needed to do to get ahead and it's hard to fault them for it, but ... well, like I said, I have an essay but that's not what I want to write about here.

I will say this, however. The act needed an overhaul. They work best when they're representing a sort of counterculture, when they're pressing against something, rebelling against something, when they have a chip on their shoulder. The story of the Elite and All In and early AEW is that they bet on themselves (and against those who said they couldn't do it) and won, that they created a new paradigm where they could succeed outside of the old systems where they could not. There was a certain amount of time right at the start, through the pandemic, as crowds came back, when that sort of celebratory spirit could carry things. I think we're past that now and certain swings, such as the trios division being created to celebrate their vision of pro wrestling, sort of fell flat because of that. Obviously with the Punk situation, they had something they could press up against, but legally and practically, they weren't allowed to in a way that would draw money. Things weren't working. To their credit, they stopped, retooled, and looked at all of the current criticisms against them to pull together characters based in a sort of assumed reality that better fit guys in their mid to late 30s than the traditional "Young Bucks" gimmick did. Suddenly, they have something to press up against again; suddenly there's a chip on their shoulder once more; there's something with meat on the bone to give them an edge.

And that edge allowed for a program that needed to be something more than just two athletic guys bumping and selling and feeding and providing motion for Sting; it allowed for it to have the emotional weight and gravitas it deserved. By the time you hit the match itself, however, we were all in a sort of exceptional situation. There was always the hint of doubt that Sting would actually win due to some of the traditional pressures of pro wrestling. The retiring hero should lose on the the way out and put over younger talents. The champion should lose the belts to keep continuity. Darby is going off to climb a mountain. The Bucks were particularly ascendant in their new characters; the champions would be gone and the challengers would have to carry the territory. And up until the Dynamite before Revolution, the Bucks had all the heat. Yes, Sting and Darby were undefeated and had won the titles, but during the build the Bucks were in control of the situation. That changed on the 2/28 Dynamite, with head games and Sting dropping from the rafters for the final image of a Death Drop on a Jackson (not a stooge, not security). So some of that heat was blunted already. The Bucks had already gotten a taste of comeuppance. The champs were on the rise. It was okay though, because the iconic moment was worth it. This entire situation was exceptional; it bent the rules of pro wrestling. It was a once in a lifetime event. That's why the Bucks maybe did make sense as opponents; they've excepted themselves from those rules for their entire career. They could swim these uncertain waters as well as anyone.

And they swam right into the start of this exceptional match, with the breathtaking entrance of three Stings (three Bordens) and an immediate numbers game advantage for the babyfaces. The Bucks already needed some sort of wedge to get and keep control due to the size and presence differential. They had superior teamwork and experience, maybe (Sting and Darby were 29-0 after all), but that didn't really come into play during a Tornado Tag. The heel interference that was part of the Elite's 2021 heel run wasn't in play here either. Like I said, no stooges. But again, it didn't matter, because the fans were there to celebrate Sting. The family got their revenge early on. In some ways, that story closed itself off and it came down to the titles and the question of whether Sting was going to leave undefeated with gold around his waist, with the lingering secondary question of just what sensational and dangerous thing Sting or Darby might do on the way out. While that's a question that sort of tugs at suspension of disbelief, it only does so far. Sting and Darby are so confident in their own skin, so comfortable as the characters they embody, that you believe their crazy dives are meant to even the odds of size and age and actually harm their opponents. It's not gratuitous or simply living up to expectations; there's a reason that those expectations exist in the first place. Here, the snake eats its own tail in the best of ways.

They moved away from the ring and got the Borden kids out of play. There was never any explanation for this. In a tornado tag, anything goes. That said, when you're pulling against norms as thoroughly as this match did at times, you don't want extraneous questions. Maybe there could have been a throwaway line that they had come out for the entrance as planned and cleared, but then got involved in an unplanned way. Now, they had been escorted away by security, not because the interference was illegal, but because they were not cleared to wrestle or had signed any waiver to perform and AEW had to protect itself legally after what had happened a few weeks prior? Something like that. On the other hand, do you want to waste any emotional time on it? Sure, part of me wondered why they weren't helping out when the Bucks were doing major damage late in the match, but maybe it didn't bother anyone else. Maybe we just accept the moment for what it was and that the story had moved on. I'm never very good at just accepting the story had moved on myself, not when it comes to selling, not when it comes to dangling plot threads. But again, maybe that's just me. I spent a paragraph on it, but I'm also willing to let it go and not look back once I hit "enter" twice to start the next one.

The Bucks needed a major shift to take over considering they had already received quite a bit of comeuppance. They received it with Darby crashing through the glass. When you're in a situation where you can only have a relatively short heat segment with the heels in control, it helps when you have dynamic offense, spectacular suffering, and blood: the more the better. Darby's entire back was lacerated. That made everything feel absolutely serious quickly. Then, instead of getting to hit one of his signature dives, Sting was cut off and took a spectacular bump through a table instead. The Bucks did more than that, but just from those two flashpoints: the image of Darby's back and the image of Sting going through the table, they had everything they needed to capitalize on the drama of the moment. Sting made his superman comeback attempts (and the kickout on the EVP trigger was it's own sort of magic) but the numbers game was too much for him. Again, most people expected this to be celebratory; the whole show was a celebration of Sting, but there was always the tiniest kernel of doubt for reasons awash in the moment and ones listed above about the nature of pro wrestling retirements; if Sting demanded that he do the deed on the way out, who could really say no to him in the end? All of those things came together like a bolt of lightning to empower Darby's big save. That hit as perfectly as any pro wrestling moment ever does, that feeling in your stomach watching that makes you want to gasp and cheer and sigh all at once.

From there it was academic and, of course, exceptional. Sting won on the way out. It felt like the most right thing in the world. They broke three or four narrative rules in the build, in the start of the match, in the result. I'm not going to say it shouldn't have worked because of that. It was too big to fail, over 16,000 people and almost 40 years big, and fueled by respect and love and admiration, created by people who understood the worth and value of pro wrestling and the power of believing in something bigger than yourself. But as hard as a pill as it might have been for me to swallow at the start of February (and as hard as it is for me to accept at all, because I just don't want to see the guy go), this was the right place and the right time with the right people to create something that was exceptional not just in its nature, but in its quality as well.