AEW Five Fingers of Death 10/7 - 10/13 Part 2

AEW WrestleDream 10/12/24

Bryan Danielson vs Jon Moxley

MD: Wrestling is about hope. It's about creating the need for it, building up anticipation for it, cutting it off after every tiny taste of it, and then paying it off at the absolute right moment and in the absolute right way. Hope is everything. What hope has meant to the wrestling fan, both within the confines of a match and in general, has changed over the decades. If we go back forty years, it was about the heel being punished at the hands of the babyface. If we go back twenty years, it might be more about the company pushing a favorite wrestler to the top. And now? A lot of times, it's about being lucky enough to see something great, a match that picks up as many stars as are in the sky.

Ironically, the milestones of Bryan Danielson's career have run the opposite path for me. A little over twenty years ago, I sat at an ROH show hoping I'd see an all timer as he wrestled an ironman match against Doug Williams. Ten years ago, I hoped beyond hope that WWE would let him break the glass ceiling and win at Wrestlemania despite all the odds and all the plans. And yesterday, as I watched him wrestle Jon Moxley, even though I knew deep down that the end was upon us, I hoped that he would get his hands on his enemy first. What was beyond my wildest hope, however, was what the two of them would create for us before it was all said and done. They left us with one last amazing gift, one that has provided me just a bit more hope for the future.

I do not expect to see Danielson in a ring again any time soon, not even with the high heat angle that sent him off. I do expect to see him in the ring, even somewhat regularly, at some point years down the line. I know a thing or two about having a daughter, and eventually she won't be quite as eager to have him around the house all the time. When that time comes, I hope (so much of that, see?) that he returns, not as the Bryan Danielson we've always known, but as an older, wiser one ready and willing to lean upon all of the old tricks of wrestling and to cash in the fans' desire to see him again, to wrestle a completely different style, one that cares less for athleticism and more for the illusion of the same. I truly think that someday he will have a real chance of restoring something that right now feels like it might be forever lost.

That was too big an ask for one night and far too much to hope for on his last night as an active wrestler. What he and Mox managed instead was to show that something else, something related, was not forever eradicated from this earth as well. You see, I wasn't the only one who wanted him to get his hands on Jon Moxley. 8000+ in that arena wanted it too. There were so many things at play. There was Moxley's turn and the violence around it, the build to the match itself: the promos, the recrimination, the fight over the heart of Yuta, the unforgivable offense of Moxley doing this to Danielson right now when he was so close to leaving on his own terms. In some ways there were years of build to this. In other, more tangible ways, there were just weeks. They were powerful weeks, however and Bryan was here in his home region, in an arena that meant something to him, fighting against a brother that betrayed him, fighting over the ending of his story and the very soul of pro wrestling.

And this crowd, a crowd that had already been sated by a three-way that was deemed as "a different level of incredible" by you know who, a crowd that had every reason to be exhausted... this crowd, maybe for the first time in years in the United States, was made to want blood. To expect Bryan Danielson, who has gone on record recently as feeling like he no longer understands wrestling and wrestling fans, to have all the answers on this night would be impossible. But he and Mox did all that they had to; they provided a proof of concept that can be built upon, they showed that wrestling on a big stage can still touch people in the way that it once did, that it can overcome post-modern cynicism and grip a crowd by its collective heart and squeeze all of the emotion out of it.

There was no posing, no preening. People talk about wrestling being cinematic, but I can't imagine anything more cinematic than Moxley rushing right at Danielson as he started to enter the ring and the two of them fighting for every advantage, big or small, as the Final Countdown played over them. You could watch a thousand pro wrestling music videos, and they might all be artful and perfectly timed in their own way but none could possibly move you more than watching the violence unfold to this ultimate soundtrack. It took my stomach and lurched it up towards my throat in a way that I've only felt recently watching Mad Dog Connelly battle Demus, that I thought would have been impossible in an arena setting. And they managed it with a song playing in the background. That’s how deeply they threw themselves into the struggle at play, how completely they gave in to the animosity they were portraying. When two wrestlers are able to manage that, everything around them becomes additive, becomes a positive part of the equation.

Moxley is unquestionably cool, but he did certain things to make sure the fans would never even inch his way. Some of that was having Shafir at ringside and drawing the ref so that she could attack. He didn't need to do that. He had control. She hit hard; he could probably hit harder. While he was going to win the match clean, he made sure to fight it dirty. The pile driver on the table that shifted things from shine to heat was preceded by an eyerake. Later on, he'd rip the tape off and bite where it had been. That's not the most damaging thing he could have done, but it was one of the most symbolic. He took his time, let it all sink in. He jawed with someone in the front row (someone who thankfully had the wherewithal to remind Moxley that Danielson was his brother). He shoved Nigel's headset off for daring to say that Mox didn't care what any ref had to say. Interestingly, he DID care what Bryce had to say. The whole point of this was to win the title, and while he'd choke Bryan with a wire for the four count, he had til five and he used it.

Mox is a different sort of cat. Bryan and Eddie were on message boards, were trading tapes. Mox was digging through the dumpster behind Blockbuster to see if they tossed out an overwatched King of the Deathmatch commercial tape. He wasn't playing Oregon Trail in fifth grade. He probably still types with two fingers. He's not like us in the same way they are, and he can lean into that to be the other that can get under everyone's skin. Meanwhile, Bryan is of us, one of us, the paragon that we all look to, in some ways the very best of us, and as he took his advantages, he made sure to appeal to the crowd, to first conduct and then channel its energy and power.

And to their credit, these fans did not waver. Oh, there was a moment or two where I started to worry. They counted along with a ten count as both men were down. When things devolved into strike exchanges (but one where everything registered and everything was felt and sold) they were eager to yay and boo with each strike. But those were small imperfections and excusable ones. Knowing what to do with this level of engaged emotion is new for a 2020s crowd; there was bound to be (re)growing pains. They came through where it mattered, led by the wrestlers to the promised ground of chanting expletives at Moxley, buzzing for Danielson's comebacks, booing Mox's dirty fighting, as opposed to chanting "This is Awesome" even and especially when what they were seeing was in fact awesome.

Then, at the end, after the expulsion of Shafir, after the comebacks and kickouts, when Danielson finally could go no further and Bryce called for the bell; and then, as the belt was stored away safely by Claudio and the plastic bag arrived, and as Yuta, his own hope drained from him by Bryan's loss, made the only choice he felt he had left to him, the crowd fell to a stunned hush. This was their reward for allowing themselves to be led (as if they had any choice in the matter), to feel one last overwhelming wave of emotion, to be moved by the art in front of their eyes in a way that will stay with them for the rest of their lives, to feel more alive in shock and despair than any performance has ever made them feel.

So they gave me something more than I could hope for and they dared me to hope even further still. I hope that this is just the beginning, that even though Bryan Danielson is gone, that Jon Moxley understands what he's brought forth, the small ember that he has reignited, and can carry the flag forward and restore honest, earnest feeling (not "the Feeling" of 2021 AEW but something even more primal that speaks to the human heart), can bring the most valuable facets of mythology back to a post-modern word. The pieces are on the table. Darkness reigns. It's up to the babyfaces to foster hope in the hearts of the AEW faithful, to achieve meaningful wins even if the ultimate goal is deferred and deferred and deferred until the time is right. Let Orange Cassidy conglomerate. Let Darby Allin be the crow that feasts upon their nightmares. Raise Daniel Garcia to be the centerpiece of a new Super Generation Army of young lions. Lean hard into the stakes. Make it matter. Show that the wrestlers care. If they care, the fans will care. Darkness has fallen over AEW, but within it and through match that heralded its arrival, I've found more hope for pro wrestling than I've had in years.