For the Love of Pro Wrestling: Lee Moriarty vs. Cheeseburger

Lee Moriarty vs. Cheeseburger Labor of Love PHL 4/25/26 

Cheeseburger loves pro wrestling. 

It's undeniable, right? You follow his career. You watch him wrestle. You see what he posts. He loves wrestling. Undeniable. Pure wrestling. Technical wrestling. Tricked out holds, reversals. Fundamentals. Clear as day. Even as a layperson, it's obvious.

In a world with so, so many belts, the ROH Pure Championship belt means something. It stands for something. What does a TV Belt stand for in a world of streaming in 2026? It's only as good as the champion, right?

But the Pure Championship stands for something. It's not just the rules, the rope breaks, the judging. The person who holds it is a pure wrestler, is someone who finds the art in technique, who finds beauty in joint manipulation, in the secrets of the craft. 

Lee Moriarty is an artist. He's an artist over multiple modalities. Hell, there was his art up on the wall during this match. 

But if you're reading this, you care most, like I care most, that he's an artist in the ring. He moves with style and swagger, with confidence. The ring is his canvas and upon it he paints victories of twisted limbs, clever escapes, and the ever-driving, inescapable knowledge of the rules of the game. He paints outside the box at times, but all eyes go to the center nonetheless.

He's going to put you in danger, is going to force you to use up your rope breaks, and is going to have you looking every which way as he ties up any possible chance you might have to beat him and take his title.

Cheeseburger might be world famous, but the world comes to Moriarty. He's the champion. That's the difference.

And it's everything Cheeseburger wants. Not the fame, not the fortune, but the validation, the proof, the opportunity to be that person that everyone in the world hunts to prove their technical superiority. To show it's all been worth it. The title is a symbol and object. It's what it represents that Cheeseburger wants. 

And here, in front of a crowd that saw him as the home team, in a match he had trained for, had prepared for, was ready for, he was going to do everything possible to get it.

Things were friendly enough at first, playful even. There was a sense of exhibition, of showing off for the crowd. Look, Lee might have been from Pittsburgh and given recent hockey happenings, maybe he was a natural antagonist in Philly, but they welcomed him well enough to start. There was a "Both These Guys" chants. It was congenial.

The shift happened quickly. The first exchange ended with Cheeseburger taking Lee down, but finding himself unable to hook on a hold in the face of Lee attempt at an early Border City Stretch. The second exchange had Lee turn Cheeseburger's wrist control around, allowing him to flex and preen only for Cheeseburger to kip up and twist and turn his way out, leaving Lee staring at his hands in mild disbelief.

That was bad enough. What made it worse is that in that twisting and turning, Cheeseburger took the crowd along with him. No longer were they chanting "Both These Guys." Now it was "New Champ." 

Over the next few exchanges, Cheeseburger pressed his advantage, always seeming one step ahead of Moriarty, half out of a hold before Moriarty could even lock it on, anticipating where he'd end up next, hands already outstretched. To their credit, it never seemed collaborative. Cheeseburger come off as just that good and Lee came off as just that frustrated, and it all worked. 

Lee was able to jam Cheeseburger's attempt to mount him, was even able to knock off a rope break with a Border City Stretch, but Cheeseburger was undaunted and finally did mount him and wrench both arms back at once. Lee's only escape? Grabbing the ropes with his teeth as the judges took notes before him. 

Bad had gone to worse and now, despite the ground Lee had gained back, things were even between them, and the humiliation was starting to sink in.

How dare Cheeseburger? How dare he ride him, stretch him, humiliate him? This is Taigastyle Lee Moriarty, longest Pure Champ ever, who beat Shibata, Blue Panther, Nigel McGuinness. 

The tiger saw red and lashed out. Cheeseburger fought back but Lee honed in on the gut, pressed hard. He pressed too far and too soon though, was emotional, was heated. He went to the well once too often and Cheeseburger was able to fight back.

The rope breaks felt like goals in a soccer game. 1-0, 1-1, 2-1, 2-2. It was wrestling as art and wrestling as sport all in one. The sport was the trappings; the art, the means, the purpose, the impression it left with you.

And like all great art, there was humanity underneath, Lee's frustration, Cheeseburger's desperation, and both men's pride when it came to their chosen art/science/trade. 

Lee utilized a camel clutch, not one of his usual moves, but it was a way of presenting Cheeseburger's pained faced to the crowd, to the judges, to the world, nowhere to hide as he used up one of his rope breaks. 

Cheeseburger, firing back, hitting bombs, almost scored a win with a clutch seatbelt cradle. It was one of those nearfalls where, even watching it back, knowing the result, it still gets you just a little. That's how good it was. 

But in 2026, this is Lee Moriarty's world, and no matter how much heart Cheeseburger showed (even valiantly fighting his way back up from what looked to be a knock out shot), and no matter how hard he trained, once Lee got that third rope break, it was the beginning of the end. Cheeseburger crawled to the ropes to escape another Border City Stretch but that left him open to a rope assisted Camel Clutch and he had no choice but to tap.  

Cheeseburger loves pro wrestling, lives it even, but so long as Lee Moriarty holds that belt, he IS pro wrestling.

So where does this leave Cheeseburger? Was it truly all for nothing? After a match like that, after inspiring a crowd to support him, after pushing the Pure Champ to the limit, maybe, just maybe, he can take a step back, and find validation within. Pro wrestling, like life, is a journey. The true practitioners never stop learning, never stop growing. So long as that's true, they never know true defeat and there's always tomorrow. And sometimes it takes a match like this to remind us of that.