80s Joshi on Wednesday: Yokota! Hori! Martel! Martin!

Volume 3 

4. Jaguar Yokota & Jumbo Hori vs. Judy Martin & Sherri Martel 

This is the last match Judy Martin and Sherri Martel would have in this tour of Japan before heading back to the United States. From what cards I can see Sherri actually tagged with Kaoru (later Dump) Matsumoto for most of this tour. Those are matches that'd be interesting to see if there's any evidence she had an influence on Dump (they certainly have 'act insane' in common). No footage of any of them though. 

To the match, Jaguar has her arm taped up and Judy & Sherri immediately go after it. There's no shine at all. Barely 30 seconds into the match and this is the heels working over a body part. It's a lot less hectic than their previous outing, which maybe doesn't suit them at first, but it also gives them something to build up to. They were going somewhere with the heat but I thought Jaguar's tag out was a bit anti-climatic, she literally just throws one punch to the gut and then rolls over to the over side of the ring to tag in Jumbo Hori. Could have done with a bit more struggle there.

This was basically a set up for a double figure-four spot. Sherri Martel sells Jaguar's figure four by shaking around like she's in the most unbearable pain ever. When she rolls out of the ring and Judy Martin gets in, Jaguar does one of the best rolling handstands I've ever seen her do into a dropkick. I find it mesmerising. 

This is my favourite part of the match though. Judy and Sherri have an argument after a miscommunication, they're driven to the outside and are still arguing. Then Jaguar and Jumbo chase them around the ring going in opposite directions, until Judy and Sherri meet on the other side and crash into each other! Perfect. I don't remember seeing that anywhere else but it's such a simple and funny spot to make the heels look like clowns.

We then get a double countout, which in AJW 2/3 falls rules means the score is 1-1 so this next fall is the final one. 

I'm not some big limbwork obsessive but in this match I think it would have been better for Jaguar's arm to come into play. Mainly because if you're going to spend the first few minutes of the match setting up that and nothing else, it doesn't make much sense to me for it to then have no impact on the rest of the match. It's like spending the opening chapter of a novel establishing that the main character has a fear of heights but then that trait having zero impact on the plot.

Instead, this final fall is more heel shenanigans, but relatively tame compared to what we've seen before. There's a beatdown on the outside, Jaguar gets thrown onto a table. There's a decent comeback where she ducks a double clothesline and then has Jumbo lift her up for a couple of double thrust kicks. Jumbo actually gets the pin with a top rope crossbody, which would have been a good win for her.

Fans of Judy & Sherri will appreciate seeing this. It's a better opportunity than they usually got in the USA to show how good they were and it has some uniqueness going for it. Pretty good. I don't think anyone gave a standout performance though nor did we really learn much.

***

MD: A lot going on here. Less chaotic and more focused to start as they target Yokota’s damaged elbow but that does go away after a while. Early transitions aren’t super interesting. Hori gets swept under on the outside when she tries to help save her partner but then she comes back with just a punch to the gut. Love the end of the fall though. Yokota handsprings through but ends up 2-on-1. It bleeds into heel miscommunication and the heels shouting at each other and shoving. Hori and Yokota take over and chase them around ringside where they crash into each other. Then it becomes a mad dash back into the ring, really putting over the countout in a way you can only do in a ⅔ falls match. Yokota makes it back in but I don’t think it’s in time so it’s 1-1.

This had more of Hori working big too. She crashed into both Americans in the corner like Andre might do. Martin sold a Vader Attack from her by almost being taken out of the match. They had Yokota barely survive another count later on, but the finish was pretty definitive with Hori hitting a big flying body press for the win. It had a lot of disjointed stuff (I didn’t mention the double figure fours) and lacked the overall chaotic feel of the last Martin/Sherri tag but the highs were pretty high and very fun here. 
 

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A World He Did Not Make. A Truth One Cannot Return To: Greco-Malenko vs Connelly

Karl Greco-Malenko vs Mad Dog Connelly [Battlarts Rules] ACTION 4/17/26

MD: Look, we watch a lot of wrestling. Too much wrestling. That can be a thing. We live it. It's fine. We're ok. We're mostly sane around here. But that means that we turn on a match, when we tune in and lock in, we have a pretty good sense of what we're going to get. When they announced this one (and as always, I am not privy to this stuff ahead of time), I had no idea what to expect.

Once upon a time, a guy named Austin Connelly wrestled a bunch of UWFI rules matches. All sorts of opponents. Daniel Garcia. Max the Impaler. Blade. Garrini. Davey Richards even. He won most of them, most of them under five minutes. That was before he found his truth, before his eyes went wild and enraged, before he learned to lean into the secure, stifling tug of a dog collar around his neck. He's a different beast now. 

And Karl Greco-Malenko? He's come back to a world of American independent pro wrestling that he never made. This isn't some sort of soft and casual homecoming. The indies were never his home. PWFG. Battlarts. All Japan. Even a tiny but of Rings and Fu-Ten. This? This is the wild west. Matt Mako, dangerous as he was, deadly as he can be with that cross-armbreaker. That was familiar territory. Greco-Malenko is the interloper here. He's the one who's crossed territorial lines, literal coonskin cap on his head. A pioneer. A man of science and technique. An adventurer gone grey. Gone exploring right into the cave of the beast. 

This was Battlarts rules, sure. Fine. That would define the rules of engagement, not the style, not the tenor, not the tone, not the attitude. You try to put Mad Dog Connelly in a box and he'll tear down a lot more than four walls. That's what I thought at least.

Yet, that's not entirely what happened. Oh, this was Mad Dog. It was unquestionably Mad Dog. But for the first time in years, I think I saw glimpses of Austin peek out. Yes, Greco-Malenko had crossed on to his territory, but the specific nature of this challenge seemed to reawaken something in Connelly, some last vestige of civility behind the seething rage. 

If Greco-Malenko was such an expert, such a practitioner, such a legend. If he had the temerity to barge in on Connelly's world, to challenge him on his turf, to face him in his ring, then it wasn't enough to just beat him in Mad Dog's ineffable way, to make Greco-Malenko live his truth. Just this once, Connelly needed to stretch, to reach back, to remember a Truth that was no longer his own but that he once carried with him. 

So he faced Greco-Malenko on his own terms. He wrestled.

The thing is, not even Mad Dog himself can force himself into a box, not even with all of his will and focus and intention. Yes, he was able to lean on technique, was able to latch on to limbs, was able to jam an elbow in for leverage, was able to ride and control the great Karl Greco-Malenko. But he couldn't help himself. He just couldn't. He taunted, vocal in a way that you never see him in matches, the human slipping through, tainted by the beast, haunted by the fury, but recognizable nonetheless. 

More than that, he hammered, swiped, punched, pounded. Against a lesser opponent, it would be overwhelming, exhausting, destructive, but for Greco-Malenko, it was an opportunity. He placed a hand behind his head, nominally absorbing blows. That just infuriated Connelly more and he pounded even harder. That let Greco-Malenko seize a hand and reverse things. 

Because Connelly was limiting himself in his attempts to conquer Greco-Malenko's world, because he was trying to force himself into a box, because he was trying to win on terms that were not his own, he provided Greco-Malenko answers to questions that should have been unanswerable.

Momentarily frustrated, Connelly rushed in. Greco-Malenko was ready, caught him in a butterfly position, lifted and dropped him into a knee, and rendered him helpless with a submission. Just like that, it was over.

Except for it's never really over with Connelly, is it? That's the thing about truth. It doesn't simply just end and go away when it's convenient. It's always there following you, lurking around the corner. And when Connelly is involved, truth is always, always, always found at the end of a chain. 

Congratulations, Karl Greco-Malenko. You donned your cap. You marched off into the belly of the beast. You took your hide. You survived to tell the tale.

But if you ask me, and I bet if you dare to ask the Mad Dog, I don't think you've lived your truth yet. 

But you will.

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