AEW Five Fingers of Death (and Friends) 10/12 - 10/18 Part 2

AEW WrestleDream 10/17/26

Jon Moxley vs Mark Davis

MD: I'm writing this about a week after the PPV. I just saw the match. The way AEW PPVs usually work for me is that I get to watch the first hour or so before I have to take care of some parental duties and I usually just catch the rest over the next few days. Which I did for WrestleDream, including the Tailgate Brawl which I thought was a great, varied show.

But I held off on Mox vs Davis. I knew it was going to be heavy. I had to be ready for it. Then they went and ran a big angle on Dynamite and I knew that I should see this before that and long story short, I caught it today.

Part of the hesitance was that I knew it'd be heavy and I had to feel up for it, sure, but part of it was that I knew I'd be compelled to write about it and I don't know how to deal with Mox.

When I wrote about Cassidy vs Mox on the PAC tribute show, I did it as sort of an alternate reality Mox, a difference in perception and perspective. That was fine for a one time thing. It would not do this match justice.

The problem is one of sensitivity and appropriateness and is ingrained with the nature of pro wrestling and what makes it unique and special.

I imagine if you're reading this, you've read other things I've written about Mox. I love writing about the character of Jon Moxley. He entered into a pact with Bryan Danielson to shape the future, and then, for any number of reasons (call it a mid-life crisis; call it seeing what Roman was doing over on the other channel and feeling like he was falling behind; call it dissatisfaction with how things had turned out; call it envy over Bryan being champion and Moxley not), he crossed a line and didn't look back. 

I saw him as a hypocrite, a villain, a tyrant, holding the AEW Men's World Title hostage for the better part of a year and putting the company under siege. 

And that meant he became really, truly interesting once he lost the title and then had to deal with the weight of what he created. He had a bandit legion who needed victories and plunder, mouths to feed lest they turn upon him. He ran from Darby's revenge, was on his back foot against Kyle, yet through dogged desperation and a few dice rolls going his way, he won the Continental Classic. 

Food on the table. It let him spout empty platitudes (or full platitudes that he himself said in the light but then refused to follow in the dark), let him play the gallant knight and warrior once again. All the way through mentoring Ospreay, losing at All Out, and so on.

He was an emperor with no clothes, Fagin with his Artful Dodger, a demagogue pulling the wool over the eyes of his army and the fans, but never over himself, never truly.

He never had that peace. He always knew deep down it was a lie. And in part, that's because he never truly paid the price, never was betrayed. In a world where corruption rules and consequence is fleeting, this fictional character never got his comeuppance, not really. 

I've written a lot about it. You know how I feel. Right? Great. 

So here's where we stand. The divide between the people portraying pro wrestlers and the pro wrestlers themselves is much thinner than in other forms of media. If an actor dies tragically, their character is written off in the show, often in a way that makes the most sense for the plot. 

The character of Jon Moxley is clearly carrying the weight of tragedy. The way things played out in his backstage segment. The way this match played out. The death of PAC (of Ben) weighs on him. If this had happened on a television drama, you could put the onus on the character of Jon Moxley, make it so  Mox's actions led to the death of the character of PAC (not Ben), that it was his comeuppance, that it was the spiritual cost for everything he did. That would make this match make sense, would tie together the story, would give everything a cathartic path forward. It would be good fiction and I do think it's what many TV dramas might do. 

But the divide is so thin in pro wrestling that you can't do that. You can't suggest that. Ben was PAC and PAC was Ben and Jonathan Good is Jon Moxley and Jon Moxley is Jonathan Good. They are but they aren't but they are. I can't suggest that. I won't. I won't engage with it that way. It's terrible. I'm not going to write about that story, no matter how powerful it might be, and no matter how well it fits the heartfelt performance that Moxley gave. It's clearly what drove the performance.

So I don't entirely know how to deal with this otherwise. 

But I am going to try.

Jon Moxley hit rock bottom. It was cumulative. It was based, in large part, on his actions over the last year and a half. He had been running past consequences, past life and death itself, had been wrestling not through it, but past it. So long as he never looked down, he never fell, not really. He'd convinced the world, but never himself. And that was fine, because he thought he could run forever. He couldn't. The weight, both perceived, and so, so very real, had finally dragged his head down. He looked down. He fell.

And when you hit rock bottom, sometimes you find a monster at the bottom of the pit waiting for you. That monster was Mark Davis. 

Mox is a canny beast himself, especially with his back against the wall. This wasn't the first time in the last year he was in a tough situation. He came out there ready to survive. He was used to bullying his opponents. He couldn't bully Mark Davis. That's fine. He could out wrestle him. 

But he couldn't. Davis was too strong. He was able to snatch a limb and turn Mox's grip back around. Just like that. 

That was fine too. Mox would just go meaner and dirtier. 

But he couldn't. Davis was too strong. He was willing to go just as mean. Just as dirty. Moxley got a few shots in, but Davis struck back, and one of his shots was worth five of Mox's. Davis has a way of channeling that strength to hit you from odd angles. A clothesline while you're laying down, a half crab over a guardrail, the cross section of bestial power and opportunistic creativity. 

So Moxley bled. He was used to making his opponents bleed. Here he bled. The visuals were striking. Moxley retreated to the floor multiple times, and he laid there, blood dripping off his head onto the mat. When dragged back into the ring, white ring ropes found themselves adorned in crimson. Davis' chest was much the same. 

Moxley had bled before though. Maybe he'd never been in this exact situation, had never made it all the way to the bottom, but he had been low before. He was resilient, determined, dogged. He came back as he had come back so many times before. 

And Davis put him down. Hard. Pile driver on the apron hard.

Mox sat in his own blood, back against the guardrail as the referee tried to convince him to get back into the fight. He was done. He was spent. It was over. 

Until it wasn't.

The Continental Title means no one at ringside, no interference, but then, as the last grains of sands were slipping down in the hourglass that was Jon Moxley, hope hit him like sunlight rising in the east.

Marina Shafir. Daniel Garcia. Not at ringside but behind the rail, inspiring him as he had inspired them.

For so much of the last two years, Jon Moxley did not practice what he preached. That's what made him a villain. 

But those things that he preached were often good things, had value. That's why he was so dangerous. They were complicated like any other big ideas, but growth through adversity, through combat, through struggle. Those can be very valid things.

He helped reward Marina Shafir's hard work and determination with opportunity. He picked up Daniel Garcia after his opportunity had faded to dust. He offered them what they needed. Perhaps the act was self-serving in intention. But the act was still the act.

That's the thing about wrestling through it. About fighting through it. About doing the deed, day after day after day after day. It adds up. Intention doesn't matter nearly as much as outcome. 

That had worked against him when the Death Riders were formed and he claimed grand things and then committed horrific ones. But as Continental Champion, it worked for him. He was still the Jon Moxley who had ended Bryan Danielson's career, but now he was doing valiant things week in and week out. 

If you do the right thing for long enough, then you too start to become right in doing it. Consistency of action matters most of all.

He had hit bottom. It wasn't due to a betrayal (though that would come later). But he had hit bottom, and now, baptized in a pool of his own blood, Jon Moxley was reborn. 

The Mox that reentered the ring wasn't a bullshit artist, wasn't an emperor with no clothes. He was the Ace, the Wild Thing. He had lived among the beasts, dragged himself, his people, the company, through the mud, committed acts that could never be taken back, but one step after the next, he was fighting through it, wrestling through it, clawing and grasping his way back towards the light, buoyed by those who he had both led and misled, who were better than him, and that reminded him of the better him that he had once been.

He redirected Davis and made him bleed. He moved with precision and focus. He ducked under a clothesline so perfectly and hit the Death Rider. He went for the Brutalizer, but had the grace and focus (a burgeoning inner peace) to shift positions and put on a choke. And then he didn't let go. He squeezed like his life depended on it, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he let out all of the fury and grief and emotion within him.

And he won. He had made it through, not through all of it, because we're never through all of it and he will carry that weight forever, but he made it through the match, through this first step of dealing with his own grief, and I think, through the first huge step of coming back to the man he once was. Inspired by those he inspired, he lived up to his own myth and he won the day.

It was a bloody, heavy, heartwrenching match, full of physicality and emotion. It was probably one of the best matches AEW has ever put on because it was one of the realest and deepest matches possible. It was about things that are real and true and human, things that pro wrestling can tackle, but that it usually does not. And they executed it perfectly in their own way.

Rarely do matches have a thesis statement. This one did. The only way out is through. To me, the character of Jon Moxley had so much more to get through than beating Mark Davis, and even so much more than the events of the last month. He had to get through the last two years, through even more than that, through a lifetime maybe. And I have every reason to believe he's going to spending the rest of his life finding his way through. But I also have every reason to believe that he's going to make it. That's what Aces do. And no one in the world could honestly watch this match and deny him that title.

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