Kazuchika Okada vs Tommaso Ciampa (AEW Five Fingers and Friends 9/21-9/27)

AEW All Out 2026 9/26/26

Kazuchika Okada vs Tommaso Ciampa

MD: Hey everyone. I'm writing this very early Monday morning. I thought about just... not. Not writing. I've done this pretty close to every Monday for almost five years now. There was a match I wanted to cover. I thought maybe it'd help. Help me. Maybe (hopefully) help you by reading. Take your mind somewhere else. You've been living in the same timelines I have. Heartbroken wrestlers. Heartbroken fans. People we care about directly and indirectly. I thought about writing about PAC vs Andrade but that's like staring at the sun. 

I do want to say something quickly about PAC though. Maybe more later. If I was fifteen years younger fifteen years ago, he'd have been my favorite wrestler. Exactly what I wanted out of pro wrestling when I was younger. Innovation. Energy. Daring. Persistence. (Even his size would have appealed. I was a small kid). I wasn't though. I was older and at a crossroads and trying to figure all of this out. And for me, the balance was still off. I was moving in a totally different direction as a viewer and as someone who thought about pro wrestling. 

But then we got to his late 2014/early 2015 and Neville was simply undeniable. He worked subtle heel against Sami Zayn while still threading the needle and being as dynamic and spectacular as ever. He managed to hit all of the impressive, over the top offense against Kevin Owens, but accomplished it in a way that was full of animosity and intensity and real, true impact. It blew my mind. It made me stop, forced me to see things as less black and white, and however I was developing as a viewer, it broadened it. I'm not saying he's the only reason that I didn't stumble into that all too familiar reactionary closed-mindedness completely, but I think he was a big part of it. And he was just as undeniable as his career went on. He owned the road between being innovative, impressive, impactful, intense, and most importantly, immersive. When I hold wrestlers to standards along those lines, it's because I've seen it. PAC did it. And yes, not everyone can be PAC, but everyone can shoot for the moon because at least one wrestler proved that he could reach it, gravity be damned.

One of my favorite PAC matches of the last few years, and maybe one of my favorite AEW matches of the last few years in general, was the Dynasty 2024 match vs Okada. Okada was still fairly new to the company and the crowd wanted to cheer for him so badly, but the two of them, through skill and persistence and commitment, turned the crowd, and that is one of the most impressive, exciting things that pro wrestlers can ever do, especially in modern times. 

Fast forward to Saturday and here's Okada in a similar spot, with a similar, equally difficult task, maybe one that's even more so. The Chicago crowd was deflated. Of course they were. The Darby/Borden vs Fletcher/Knight match ended in ref stoppage after a spot went bad. That almost never happens in wrestling, certainly not on a PPV, and that it happened to someone as sympathetic as Steven in one of his first big matches. It put a chill through the crowd. Dani Luna and Persephone came out afterwards and they put on a valiant effort but there was so much working against them and while they moved the needle through their work (and some Britt Baker heatseeking), it wasn't enough.

It was up to Okada and Ciampa to bring the crowd back to life then.

And they built a match that did just that, a hell of a thing, an impressive edifice that was a combination of discipline, action, and one very secret weapon wearing a birthday hat.

I don't think it was at all a sure thing. Ciampa is a tricky presence in 2026. He straddles the line between face and heel, more of an entity than anything else, one driven by very human whims, desires, and needs.  Relatable but unstable. You can't have a roster like that but maybe you can have just one wrestler. On this night, even before that secret weapon showed up, he was the babyface. He had called out Okada, had invoked the idea of a dream match, had claimed to want the Rainmaker, Okada at his best, and then had attacked him backstage instead of putting up with his crap. Okada, International Belt back around his waist, was not about to meet him halfway. Okada didn't meet anyone anywhere. It's all beneath him.

They could have looked at the crowd, looked at the situation, and panicked. They could have rushed straight into action and never looked back. They didn't. The start of the match was perfectly measured. Patient, disciplined. It was allowed to build. 

Okada broke clean on the first lock up, patronizing Ciampa with the hand pat. Ciampa followed suit. That annoyed Okada who threw a cheapshot kick. He pulled Ciampa's beard on a headlock. Ciampa pulled Okada's hair on the headlock. Okada was offended again. He teased a handshake, which Ciampa would have accepted, but went for the middle finger instead. Ciampa swatted it away and they laid into each other. Okada went for an early Rainmaker. Ciampa ducked it and went for his running knee. A story of the match. One weapon against another. Okada scooted out and came back in, trying for another cheapshot kick. Ciampa turned it around, knocked him to the apron and hit a knee to send him to the floor. 

It was a great start to the match, establishing character, tone, foreshadowing where things might escalate down the stretch. We came out of this knowing exactly who Okada was, exactly who Ciampa was on this night, how they related to one another. It put over the big weapons as dangerous, as things worth hitting, worth avoiding, worth anticipating for the fans. 

On the floor, Callis called Ciampa classless. Maybe on another night, that wouldn't throw him, but on this night, with his family at ringside, he was trying to be something more. That distraction allowed Okada to hit a flapjack and take over. Okada leaned in, dismantling Ciampa in the corner, hitting some moves, taking his time. Ciampa fought back on the apron, but Okada cut him off with a big boot. Okada followed that up by going for the top rope elbow drop. Ciampa rushed up and bit him in the forehead, going for the Project Ciampa Air Raid Crash off the top. More on all of those puzzle pieces later. Okada was able to redirect him eye-first into the post, causing that to be an extended hope spot and cut off.

That's when the match took a turn. Okada brought Ciampa to the floor, out by where his family were sitting. His daughter was there in the front row. It's her eighth birthday. She's wearing a birthday hat. Her mother is next to her. Okada hit a draping DDT on the apron right in front of them and gave the biggest smile.

But of course, for someone as despicable a troll as Okada, that's not enough. It's never enough. He rolled back out, teased a taunting high five, and then gave the birthday girl a middle finger, horrifying the crowd. Time seemed to stop as she looked to her mother, received a nod, and gave him double middle fingers back. Okada sold it as if he had been shot as the crowd popped huge. And Ciampa was right there to take over, full of fire. As comeback transitions went, it was one of the most unique and memorable of the year.

The rest of the match was meticulously put together. No move was just given. During the opening stretch, Ciampa had gone for the Angel's Wings and he hit it now. They kept going for the rainmaker and the knee whenever they could, but it was a series of opportunistic, locked and unlocked moves: Ciampa's backstabber powerbomb, Okada's over the shoulder neckbreaker, German suplexes, another attempt at Project Ciampa, and so on. They teased a false finish where Callis distracted the ref, Okada went to use the hidden screwdriver, and Ciampa caught him, finally hitting the knee. 

What made it work is that it wasn't spammed moves. It wasn't moves done over and over. It was set up and payoff for each move, through struggles and countering.  Multiple options on the table at each point. While it was a lot overall and it was an exciting stretch, there was also a sort of twisted discipline to it. Because they had started so patiently and meticulously, now the match had somewhere to go, and it got there in the most exciting, plausible, dramatic fashion possible.

Okada survived the knee. Ciampa was able to block the rainmaker multiple times until Okada finally got his twisting slam and hit it. This was a placeholder match, something on the road to bigger things for Okada, most likely, something to fill out the card, but it ended up having a much more important role in the show. They had stirred the crowd early with deeply character-driven moments that were allowed to resonate. They took the crowd over the top with the family interaction. Then they kept up the energy with a hot finishing stretch (and again, resonant due to the way every move was foreshadowed, fought for, and earned). The show felt alive again. Really a hell of an accomplishment.

In retrospect, because everything worked so well and because heartstrings were being pulled, it's almost a shame that they didn't give Ciampa, his family, and the crowd that big moment. But it's pro wrestling and it should almost always leave you wanting more. It's something they can go back to one way or another. For now, what's important, is that due to the layout, the performances, and the professionalism, the match overachieved under the hardest circumstances. 

I just went back to watch it again so that I could write about it, and it brightened my day when I needed any brightness I could get. So it's overaccomplished expectations twice now.

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