AEW Five Fingers of Death 7/13 - 7/19

ROH TV 7/16/26

Eddie Kingston/Ortiz/Adam Priest/Tommy Billington vs Shane Taylor Promotions (Shane Taylor/Lee Moriarty/Shawn Dean/Carlie Bravo)

MD: I can hear it in your head.

Ospreay VS Brooks Was 8 Minutes Long With Will Working From Underneath When He's The Title Contender? What's The Ticket Sales For All In? How About Summerslam? Did The Dynamite Rating Hold Up? What Did Collision Do Against SNME? Danhausen Brought Out Karl-Anthony Towns? WWE Is Booking New York? Does That Mean There'll Be A Grand Slam To Counter SaudiMania? Someone Posted A Hogan VS Michaels Clip. Got To Post A Take On That. Dave Didn't Post The Mercedes/Maya Star Rating Yet? But He's In Arena Mexico. What's Going On With Sammy? What's Aminata's Contract Status? What About Bayley? Alvarez Says We Should Criticize AEW. Some Fans Say We Just  Should Focus On The Positives. Why Am I Typing This Like Ric Flair Tweets? What Did Styles Say This time? It's G1 Season. Big TJPW Show To Catch Up On. The TNT Champion Is Challenging at the PPV Again? Liv Morgan Supports Conversion Therapy? Tony Khan Is Playing 5 Star Booker? The Triangle of Madness Have Stardom Titles Now? 

Stop

Just stop.

Breathe. Take a breath.

None of that is going anywhere. 

Or it is, but you don't need to go with it for a few minutes.

It'll be there when you get back. Or the next thing will. Or the next. Or the next.

And you won't miss much of anything. It's fine. It'll be fine. There's something better for you out there.

A match.

A professional wrestling match.

It's full of story but not part of any storylines. 

It didn't go viral. Haven't seen a single clip from it. 

But it has eight practitioners of their craft, artists. Guys who have been around the block, guys who are on the rise, different sizes, shapes, styles. 

Twelve and a half minutes of freedom from everything above. It's on Honor Club. You have to want it to watch it. You're going to be surrounded by people who want it. It's in front of a studio audience there to see hours of wrestling. Small, intimate crowd. People who care. People who love it. People who are passionate enough to love it that much for what it is and not for all the noise around it. 

Where's Eddie Kingston been? 

Here. He's been here. Teaming with Ortiz. Wrestling with the younger guys. Wrestling the younger guys. Staring off against Shane Taylor. And yeah, you've missed him, but you don't need to miss him. He's right here waiting for you. 

Just get off the never-ending train to nowhere. Take a breath. Relax. Watch some pro wrestling that exists for the sake of pro wrestling. To entertain a crowd. To make Honor Club worth the price. To get guys reps. To create something out of nothing.

What does it look like when Eddie and Ortiz team with Priest and Billington? What does it look like when Shane Taylor Promotions come out at full strength? What does the clash of the two look like?

Aren't you curious? Even though it's not going to score you any points in any online argument. Even though it probably won't even get a look from the Observer. Even though this episode of ROH only has ONE vote on Cagematch. 

Doesn't that still sound interesting? Doesn't it sound more interesting than a lot of things that you feel far more obliged to watch and follow and post about?

Trust me when I tell you that it's better for your soul.

It was sure better for mine.

And yes, there were stories galore here, because characters drive stories and look at these characters. Ortiz and Bravo to start. Does Bravo respect the Code of Honor? No. He's tells the crowd to shut up and has a single finger on each hand for Ortiz instead. Mood set.

They trade rolling leg picks. Bravo goes under and around the leg. Ortiz gets behind him with a hammerlock. They burst into rope running. Ortiz drops down, gets a leap frog, hits an armdrag. Great way to start a match.

More stories. Eddie comes in and hits a Japanese arm drag on Dean. Dean yelps that it's an illegal move in the United States. Small crowd theatrics, maybe the best kind? Billington tagged in intending to chop down Taylor. Fearless bulldog mentality but up against a tank. Contrast makes things interesting. Styles make fights. It took Billington, Priest, and Ortiz working together to take him down. Things (like Taylor's size) mean something, have significance. 

Sometimes you want to see like vs like too. Adam Priest is any style. Lee Moriarty is the pure champ. They face off and Moriarty goes for a rolling leg pick of his own, but Priest had seen it twice so far in the match and jams it with a nasty back elbow to the jaw.

But then, Priest gets swept under. Transitions are structural, as important as any part of the match. Moriarty distracts the ref as Priest hits the ropes. Dean trips him and hits a stunner onto the apron, Bravo hits a knee drop off the apron, Taylor hits a legdrop on it. It takes mere seconds and changes everything.

Adam Priest, maybe the best heel of the 2020s, is out there playing face-in-peril, constantly reaching for his corner, constantly dragging himself across the mat, looking for any sign of hope and trying to create his own when there's none to be found. But STP stretch and do their thing. They toss him to the floor and swarm him. Bravo works small, little flourishes full of confidence. Dean has that same confidence, but he works bigger and more over the top with it. Moriarty is precise, contorting body parts, hitting suplexes, holding bridges (just as confident). Taylor is a wrecking ball. Priest tries to fire back on him. It doesn't go well for poor Adam. 

Nevertheless, Priest doesn't quit. He doesn't give up. He keeps on running, keeps on fighting, and manages to double down with Bravo after simultaneous clotheslines. He gets the hot tag. Eddie comes in like the (beloved) maniac he is. The Kobashi chops in the corner. He directs traffic. His team unloads and then toss Bravo in for an exploder. STP comes back and do the same to Eddie, tossing him in to a Taylor uranage. Things have broken down but even in chaos, there's a beautiful undercurrent of symmetry and order.

It's an 8-man tag. Plenty of people to break up pins. Plenty of offense to feature as well. Things waterfall. One guy rushes in to hit a bit of signature offense, then the next, but it all happens so quickly, and here in the finishing stretch after the meat of the match has already been consumed, that you can relax and enjoy it. The subsequent dives cleared the ring and the finish had Priest's half crab, a missile dropkick out of nowhere by Billington and dueling roll ups leading to the pin.

The progression was just right. Opening exchanges. Shine. Heat. Comeback. Chaos. Completion. All underpinned by contrast and character.

Sometimes a match can "just" be a match. That's not an insult. It can be wonderful. That doesn't mean it lacks story. It doesn't mean it doesn't draw you in. In some ways, it helps you let go and can draw you in all the more. It cuts out the distractions and lets you focus on the passion and the craft.

That doesn't mean there aren't things coming out of this I'd want to see too. We got a taste of Priest vs Moriarty. What does a Pure Title match between the two look like. We've seen Infantry vs Ortiz/Kingston once, but there's way more left on the bone. And yeah, Billington wanted to challenge himself against Shane Taylor. If he wants it that badly, I'd want to see him have the chance.

In a world without house shows, where the analytics of every quarter hour of TV is carefully examined, where fans are pushed by the algorithm to care most about lore, divisive arguments, and what's trending, a match like this can be a breath of fresh air.

I got the train for twelve minutes and just enjoyed myself. You can too. You'll be better off for it. A match like this is a gift, an increasingly rare gift. Log off for a bit and go open the present. 

You can be present. It's okay. The noise will be waiting for you whether you want it to be or not.

Enjoy the gift while you can. We don't get enough of them anymore.

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What Worth a Title? Mad Dog Connelly vs Mance Warner

PRODUCE Volume 2: TAIGASTYLE 7/16/26 

Mad Dog Connelly vs Mance Warner 

What is a title worth? 

What value does a title have?

What can any of this possibly mean to Mad Dog Connelly? 

As I watched this match, I kept struggling with that thought.

A title, a belt, a championship is an artificial thing. The only value it has is the value we, as a society, place upon it. The title does not make the wrestler. The wrestler makes the title. Over time, wrestler after wrestler, through defenses, through blood, sweat, and tears, give it worth. 

But still, what does any of that matter to Mad Dog Connelly? 

A title is a responsibility. It is a mantle. It is something to be defended, an obligation.

It is a chain.

And there is only one chain in this world that should matter to Mad Dog Connelly.

Yet here he was. He, who had broken all ties to society, who had gone from an “Austin” to something else entirely, who emanates red-eyed rage and fury in every action he takes, was there, at Produce fighting for not just one title but multiple titles. 

It was a bit like putting a beast in a tuxedo and setting him down to dinner.

Something just felt off. It felt off when he went after Nick Gage with Beastman (What did Mad Dog Connelly care about authority such as this?). It felt off as the match started, in the way that they used plastic chairs, in how they subsequently sat down to throw almost polite (though surely vicious) shots at one another, even in the way he set up a simple machine of a ladder hanging off of chairs. Something just didn't seem right. Something was holding him back. This was violent. This was brutal. But it was almost too civil, almost too grounded. It bordered on conventional.

The blood all over the ring did not belong to Mad Dog Connelly. It did not belong to his opponent. It had been there when they got there. 

What did Mad Dog want?

What did any of this mean to him?

The answer could be found in the form of his opponent.

Mance Warner. 

Mad Dog Connelly is a man who lives apart from society, who constantly gives in to the urge to tear it down for all of its failings. But, for all that he channels a bestial nature, for all that he embodies rage, for all that he evokes the spirit of violence and comeuppance and consequence, he is still a man. 

Mance Warner, however? He is not just any man, but the sort of man who can live on the outskirts of society. He's a man who can embrace the sort of violence that Connelly embodies, but instead of instilling a sense of horror in all those around him, people welcome him. People embrace him.

He can go on TV. He can learn pure rules (once upon a time, Connelly was welcome in UWFI styled circles, a practitioner but not anymore). He can team up with his wife and fight enemies back to back. He can win titles. 

He can go in front of a crowd and not be a monster, but instead be a folk hero. Like Dickie Murdoch and Jimmy Valiant and JYD. He can finish a strike exchange by rolling his arms, flipping, flopping, flying like Dusty Rhodes.

They'll sing songs about old Mancer. Connelly? If someone tells a tale of him, it's to frighten children into compliance. Don't go off the edge of the map: here there be monsters.

Were you to ask Connelly if he wanted that sort of existence, he would deny it. He might even destroy you for daring to ask. I write it only from a very safe distance myself. 

But there was something in this match, something about Connelly forcing himself into a strange shape, contorting himself to almost pantomime villainy, running about the back and causing trouble, playing legos with chairs and ladders, sitting across from an opponent instead of just tearing at his throat, that made me think through this match, through those titles, he saw a path long cut off to him.

Mance Warner's path. 

And it created dueling impulses within Connelly. He wanted it, but even more than he wanted it, I think he wanted to take it away from Warner. But he wanted it nonetheless. In order to get it, he had to put one foot back into a world of respectability, a human world that we all walk through, a world of more conventional hardcore matches, a world where Warner was more at home, perhaps even Mance’s place of power. Warner can do it, can thread that needle, but Connelly was a wild thing and for him to leave his world and come into ours, it came at a cost.

So despite temporarily eliminating the authority figure, despite this being anything goes, despite the weapons (chairs, a wire, the ladder), Connelly found himself trudging through mud, living tropes that belonged more to Warner than to himself. 

I think that it was only at some point after Warner stapled a red card on him to a hero’s pop, after he returned the favor stapling the yellow card on Warner’s tongue, that he realized he would never again have what Warner did, that he realized it was all hopeless, that instead of fighting for it, he had to fight to tear it all down. But by then, it was too late.

Up until that point, he was fighting for a title. He was fighting for a hope he dare not admit. He was fighting for a path back to the light. But he couldn't commit. He couldn't ever admit that to himself. And by the time he shifted direction, it was too late. He brought in the chain but Warner countered it with the screwdriver. He went back for it, but he was off balance (emotionally and literally, having a screwdriver mangle your foot would do the latter), and Warner was able to fight him off and hit a lifting headbutt and a DDT for the win.

If Connelly had been of one mind from the start, he would have triumphed. If he had merely wanted to destroy everything Warner had fought so hard for, he had a good chance of doing it. If he wanted to find his own redemption, to restore all that he had lost, represented in gold and platinum, well, I wouldn't bet against a fully committed Mad Dog Connelly. 

But he was at war with himself, and no man at war with himself is ever going to win a battle with Mance Warner.

I’ve been watching Mad Dog Connelly for a while now, though, and I was left with this thought. Now that he realizes that he can’t possibly have what Warner has, now that he hates himself all the more for ever showing weakness and wanting it in the first place, there’s only one possibility left for him. If he can’t have it (and he’ll never have it, can never have it), then he’ll fight to his dying breath to make sure no one else can have it either.

Mance Warner may have won the battle, but some wars never end.

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Found Footage Friday: BREMEN '81~!

10/16/81 Bremen

Colin Joynson vs. Pat Roach

MD: Pretty good stuff with a big physical mismatch. Roach was big and tall. Joynson had a low center of gravity and was plump. But he used that center to really bedevil Roach at times. He'd be able to get under him and cause trouble (including toppling him to the floor) and would bound off the ropes with a forearm or hold his own on shoulder blocks. Roach would take over again and again with a big boot or a body slam but then he'd hold the advantage with illegal tactics, pressing down after a move when he wasn't supposed to and just staying on Joynson when the ref was calling for a break. You had a sense on how this one was going to end. Some fun stuff along the way, including Roach's standing backbreakers and lifting his own foot up to whack Joynson in the chin with it. He also took a great stooge bump onto the top turnbuckle, dangling stomach down before he got booted out of the ring. Joynson had a lot of pokey offense, punches and knees. Eventually Roach had enough and put him in a tree of woe drawing the very inevitable DQ. I wouldn't mind seeing Joynson vs the usual suspects on these tours. 

ER: Roach is a really big guy but he makes Joynson look like Otis. I love the ways this little wrecking ball would leap into his attacks on the much larger Roach, while Roach has such dismissive, ugly attacks. His uppercuts are blunt and have thud, he throws kicks and strikes without true form, working more like a forest giant lifting his foot to jam it in the face of a little round Gummi Bear on a quest. When it's time for him to bump, he does with sudden beautiful runaway train style, flying onto the turnbuckles and down to the floor, getting height with a back body drop, even getting backdropped (slowly) to the floor. Joynson had big energy and Roach had a good way of hitting the ropes in response to that energy. This is the first time we've ever written about Joynson, by the way. I love how we're still ticking off boxes of names to cover, big and small. 

Axel Dieter vs. Mile Zrno

MD: Speaking of the usual suspects, here were two of the best, with us not getting quite as much Zrno as I'd like on these cards. And this was very, very good. Every exchange had the possibility of something interesting. It's almost impossible to write about these two. You end up just listing off all the cool things you saw. That could be Dieter headstanding out of a move, punching Zrno in the headstand and then headscissoring him over. It could be Zrno twisting and contorting around to keep a hold or his crazy bridge work. It could just be how he snapped his body while taking a headscissors. It could be how they built to firing off uppercuts or escalating to quick sunset flips and snap headscissors takeovers. It could be Dieter using a leg assisted full nelson, the ultimate of imaginative schoolyard moves of possibilities or the way Zrno just found his way out. It could be how fun it was whenever they were able to string together a few moves and what they choose to do. I could go on and on. Technique meeting imagination meeting flair and showmanship. There was nothing like it beforehand and there's been nothing like it since. It ended in a draw and you're fine with that because anything else might have somehow lessened it.

ER: Matt and I written about a lot of this '81 Germany without anyone else really watching it, and while we enjoy it I also get why big men like Le Gran Vladimir or John Quinn, or German-specific babyfaces Bob Della Serra or Sal Bellomo, might not be as sexy to watch as the other thousands of wrestling options out there. Zrno vs. Dieter, on the other hand, feels like 81 Germany that would crossover and delight anyone into modern flash and World of Sport chaining, even though it's not as flashy and not tricked out like WoS. The matwork is firm and the strikes they build to always feel like a payoff. Zrno's selling doesn't always feel like it fits the story of the match, and sometimes he's too quick to get back into moving spots forward, is forced to match hold snugness with Dieter, who was raised on snug headscissors and high lift hammerlocks. 

I didn't love how quickly Zrno got up from a nasty reverse suplex, getting up on impact while Dieter sold on the mat just executing the move. It was used as a way to break a hold and smashed Zrno's knees into the mat, felt like a crazy spot to use to just go back into control with a side headlock. Dieter's suplexes look better and he bumps a bit generously for Zrno, who comes off more like babyface Paul Roma. It allows the crowd to get fully behind Dieter, their guy, like they can see that he's the stronger worker and shouldn't be working so even. This had the feeling it was going to a draw, which feels right because a lot of Zrno's work felt aimless with no end goal, work to fill time rather than defeat. That's another way I think this would cross over compared to all the Sal Bellomo we've praised: Zrno has that same time traveled time filling skill as Dean Malenko, a durability in style I couldn't have predicted. 

Moose Morowski vs. Sal Bellomo

MD: I feel like we've seen these two up against each other a few times now, but then maybe it was Morowski against Dieter or UFO or someone else. It does start to blur a bit. Still, this was a natural pairing with the crowd behind Sal and Morowski a real rogue and villain and bully. I'm sure there are people who really wonder how Sal Bellomo was somehow a super babyface in Germany, but this match is a great example. The first few minutes have him doing everything right. Morowski started by pressing him into the corner and trying to take liberties. Sal turned it around, launched a bunch of gut shots, climbed up for a ten punch and the ref had to pull him off. He continued to keep fighting and fighting no matter what Morowski tried, getting him out of the ring, cartwheeling, and counting with the crowd.

Eventually, Morowski did have enough of this and started leaning hard on him, pushing the rules as far as he could. It's a good look at him too, because all of his stuff looked mean and credible. Bellomo would try to come back now and again before he actually got it, dropkicking Morowski out of the ring. Morowski came back in with a massive punch and then hit the shoulder breaker for the win. But Sal stayed after the match to get his flowers from the crowd.

ER: It's wild how every 6'5" North American heel who worked early 80s Germany had their own version of the Sgt. Slaughter bump. For Morowski, that's just one of a half dozen big bumps he does to get over Bremen Superstar Sal Bellomo, pinballing off turnbuckles, pressed off the top, all because The People are in love with this unmuscular man in a straps-joined-in-the-back singlet. Bellomo has a real knack for knowing how to connect with these crowds. I'm not sure I've seen anyone else in this footage do an enthusiastic count-along when Moose is lying on the floor, but people are literally screaming along with Sal leading the count out. Nobody punches like Morowski anymore. I mean, most wrestlers don't punch at all anymore and that's part of a much bigger problem, but Morowski's style of short badgering close-to-the-body uppercuts weren't even really a regular punch of anyone while punches were the strike currency of wrestling. Super Macho Man threw a short set up punch like it in Super Punch Out!! but I'm not going to pretend that anyone at Nintendo was aware of the existence of Moose Morowski. Had Billy Graham thrown punches like that, I'd believe. Bellomo hits two heart punches on Morowski, which is a brilliant strategy against a Polish man whose arteries are no doubt clogged by fatty meats.  

UFO vs. Caswell Martin

MD: Honestly, there are four pillars right here with Martin, Wright, Zrno, and Dieter. Crazy that these four guys were generally in the same place and time. What a scene. Martin took almost all of this, just having an answer for everything UFO tried. UFO would try to hip toss him and he'd cartwheel. He'd go for a leglock and he'd just stand up out of hit to hit a dropkick. He'd throw uppercuts and Martin would cut him off with one headbutt. When it was time to be on offense, he had all sorts of stuff, his body press onto crossed legs, a cool falling back move with his feet around the head (instead of a twist), some brutal arm work with headbutts, a series where he kipped up after dropkicks again and again. Just a menace. But UFO took it all since he knew he was going to win with a body press out of nowhere. Still, it's always fun to see Martin do his thing.

ER: I think it's interesting how Caswell Martin and Norman Smiley have two of the most unique bodyslams and there isn't really anyone else who slams like them. Norman has his extra turn, Martin has his extra lift and throws for distance. I'm not sure what this means. All other bodyslams I like because they are thrown by real bastards, think Finlay and Hansen sending lightning bolts down extremities. But our two black British wrestlers who each have their own quirky style also wound up with two of the strongest/most stylized bodyslams. I wonder how much Martin was an inspiration on Smiley, or if it's all a coincidence. 

UFO was really no match for some of Martin's escapes, and I love how Martin would set up an escape with a stiff strike, creating an opening with a diversion. His headbutt is so good that I wish we could have seen him in Headbutters Paradise era NOAH, but he always pulls tricks that anyone could steal (if anyone other than Matt and I ever watch this footage). Standing with his legs locked on either side of UFO's head before falling to his back is something I've never seen before. It's more common for someone to lock in like that and do a little worked twist, but falling to his back put the theoretical pressure on different parts of the neck, like a teeter totter turned inside out. While I wish Martin was put away with something more than a body press, it worked because the finish was more about Martin beating himself than the crossbody beating Martin. Martin clearly tried to catch the crossbody and turn it into a slam, hanging in too long on that strategy before his fall, which was just enough for UFO to scrape one out. A flashy wrestler hoisted on their own cocky petard, as it should be.  

Kengo Kimura/Goro (Tsurumi) Tanaka vs. Mighty John Quinn/Grand Vladimir

MD: It's such a shock going from Tsurumi battling Kurisu fifteen years later to this, but here we are. Goro does all the big bits for the crowd with Kimura doing a lot of little ones. He does get to really fire up a few times though, and that's not something you see a lot out of Kengo as the decade goes on so it's nice to see. Vlad is a great stooge and Quinn is an ok one. Quinn is excellent at little inside shots to help his bullying though. Very nice moment of comeback where Kimura reverses a Quinn whip so he goes crashing into Vlad's knee. his arms go pumping and he fires off with dropkicks and karate strikes and pulling Vlad's beard. Heels take this in two straight falls though due to sneaky bits of interference that did work. I liked in the finish that Vlad had to go back for a second elbow drop because the ref was distracted with Kimura. One of those quick on his toes bits that helped avoid suspension of disbelief issues. This probably could have used one more big comeback.

10/25/81

MD: Usually given the length of these videos and the sparsity of talking, it's tough to get automated translation to work quite like I'd like but here, at the start of 10/25/81 I was able to get some sense of what they're talking about (look, I don't know German; you can't bullshit German and that's all I'm good for). This was the last night of the tournament, day 53, and there was a ceremony to start with all the wrestlers and the producer gave all of his thanks on his own after and you do have to appreciate the pomp and circumstance here. We've gotten so much of this content piecemeal over the last two years and, in truth, we'll only have two matches here, at the start of this card on this tape, but this was real thing with real people. It mattered not just, for instance, in Kengo Kimura's development or for the other wrestlers, but also for everyone who witnessed it. Old footage isn't just the moves and the craftsmanship, but it is a window into the past, of something real and vibrant in life that no longer exists. It's history.

Steve Wright vs. Caswell Martin

MD: This crowd already seemed a few mugs in and they were happy to see these two very similar wrestlers menace one another. There were moments where it got a little too silly when the ref got involved or they were doing the quick (and comedic) pin exchanges, and I would have maybe liked just a little more working holds and having to get out of things, but really this was more than the sum of the parts and the fans were delighted. These two were generally best against contrast, really bedeviling some poor fool, getting punished for their (babyface) transgressions and hubris, and then battling back to bedevil some more. But here they got what they deserved against one another. Those ref bits were very funny and the crowd was laughing the whole way through. Wright rolling himself into a ball and Martin not buying into it, the pin exchanges that were twenty years before their time, the rope running, the little bit of hanging onto holds we did get. It was all wonderful pro wrestling in a small dose. There would likely be bigger and more epic things to come on this card, the last night of the tournament, and this set things off with a unique and wonderful celebratory feel before Wright caught Martin in a backslide to end it. These two were such talents. 

UFO vs. Grand Vladimir

MD: Just a round and a half here before things cut out. Unfortunately it cuts out during a cravat sequence where UFO was holding on too. Ah well. The round we got was good with them battling over a top wristlock in interesting and struggle-laden ways. Plus UFO getting frustrated because the ref wasn't letting him press advantages on Vlad in the ropes when we all know Vlad deserves it. I imagine this would have turned out to be pretty good in full.

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80s Joshi on Wednesday: Masami! Tarantula! Jumbo! Mimi!

Volume 4  

4. Devil Masami & Tarantula vs. Jumbo Hori & Mimi Hagiwara (WWWA Tag Team Titles) - 10/5/82

K: Mimi Hagiwara is gunning to win back the tag titles. She's not very loyal though and has dumped Yukari Omori to tag with Jumbo Hori instead. 

Devil vs. Mimi is definitely the central feud in the promotion now. Their bouts for the tag titles are main-eventing the bigger shows above whatever Jaguar is doing, and have more of a narrative thread to them than the Singles Title scene does. We know what kind of a match this is going to be from the previous encounters, and this time it feels like they just get straight to it. The babyfaces get worn down and isolated with Devil especially showing a cool variety of heel offense. Mimi is there to get beaten down, or at least she does a better job of selling it than Jumbo does. I liked when Devil had Mimi by the hair and was dragging her around the ring, then she passes her hair over to Tarantula so she can have a turn.

Jumbo's role here is a bit unclear. She could be seen as the lesser star to Mimi, or she could be seen as the giant enforcer. But she doesn't come across as either. Mostly she just wrestles like everyone else, but it looks a bit strange sometimes because she's so much bigger.

They're brawling on the outside earlier than usual, and this time it felt like the Devil Army made sure to do most of it in front of the announcer's table, or ever on it.

Devil has this very sinister grin on her face to start up the 2nd fall. She also does a highly impressive military press drop where she actually launches Mimi up a fair distance for her to fall on her face. I know Mimi must be the lightest wrestler on the roster but it's still quite the feat of strength. They escalate on the fighting on the announcer table from last time by this time choking Mimi with a chain right in front of announcer Shiono, who tries to intervene a bit but is shoved away.

Devil totally loses it in the chaos that she gets herself disqualified for using her cane. It all just gets really intense between the 2nd and 3rd fall. Mimi is absolutely furious at the antics Devil Army were able to get away with before they got DQ'd and shouts abuse at the officials. Jumbo beats up the referee and we have an entertaining standoff where it's announced that the match will not be restarted until Devil Masami surrenders her weapon, which she eventually does with a massive strop. They channel all that intensity and anger into the 3rd fall and make it feel a bit more on edge than the previous two. When Tarantula gets a dirty pin to win you feel the room almost explode immediately when Mimi runs in to protest vehemently. Another injustice! Devil Army can't keep getting away with this.

****

MD: I tend to see these matches in a bubble of sorts. I know we’ll start to get more storytelling over time in 84 or pieces we can tie together better at least. I have no idea where this is going but one thing I’ve noticed over time is Mimi getting more and more frustrated at Devil’s antics and what she and her cronies are just able to get away with. Some of the wrestlers will simply take the fight to them, and she will too, but she also goes to the announce table and yells at the commissioner and anyone else even while, sometimes, her partner is getting mangled by a weapon or mob tactics. It’s a little reminiscent of Nancy Kumi getting fed up with the American heel referee in 1979. This is, of course, the big frustration with the style, even more so than limbwork not going anywhere, the idea that the heels can just do whatever. It’s not a rudo/tecnico split where it’s stylistic and the tecnicos are held to a high standard. There’s much more of a sense that the authority figures/referees are afraid of the heels (and I imagine that only gets more defined with Dump’s reign of terror to come). 

Long story short, Mimi gets so frustrated at Masami using a chair/the kendo sword, that she really has it out towards the end of the second fall with the commissioner, and it makes enough of a difference that they call for the DQ for that fall for Devil and Tarantula. At the same time, Hori tosses the ref around. It gave the third fall a completely different feel where it seemed like the babyfaces, given that the heels didn’t dare cheat as much as usual, might actually win it and take back the belts. But then Tarantula hits a couple of rolls into moves (first a dropkick and then a sunset flip) and despite Hori’s legs clearly being on the ropes, the ref counts three. Mimi is beside herself post match and has to be dragged out before she causes a riot. I have no idea where this is going but it was a nice bit of heatseeking to make it seem like the babyfaces would triumph and then finding another way to pull it out from under them. If a company was being carefully booked, you’d lead to a special ref or other sort of stipulation match here to draw the next big house, but I have no idea how they were doing things at this point. 

The match itself was very good. Mimi had an immediate advantage by charging in, but Devil and Tarantula could turn things around at a moment’s notice. Devil might take over just by stopping in the ropes on a Hori whip for instance. They took things outside and from there, Hori and Mimi would have to work from underneath. Pretty cruel stuff with Devil stepping on Mimi’s hand as she reached for the ropes or standing on Jumbo’s hair from the outside. Plenty of choking (including with her shin) on Jumbo. Mimi finally took back over and Hori pressed with her size, but tragically, Mimi missed a cross body off the ropes (Devil ducked) and with a scream went skidding to the floor. She then got slammed onto her pelvis on a table by Devil (it looked brutal). She came back one last time but Devil dropped back with her on a victory roll attempt to end the first fall.

Second fall was brutal with endless headbutts from Tarantula and Devil, a Devil press slam, a killer Tarantula front dropkick. Jumbo caught her off the ropes and then put her on the top to toss her off but Devil came in with the kendo stick and then a chair and that is when Mimi finally had enough to force the commissioner and ref to call for a DQ. That opened things up for the third fall, and it was subsequently exciting, with some really good nearfalls for Jumbo and Mimi. Devil was able to sidestep Jumbo though and floor her with a headbutt. That let Tarantula hit a missile dropkick, roll through into a dropkick, and roll through into a sunset flip for the win. Of course, Jumbo was tied up in the ropes which led to Mimi losing it again. You certainly were feeling the emotion she was putting forward here. Between her offense, her presence, her emoting, and her selling, she comes off as really exceptional in 1982.

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AEW Five Fingers of Death (and Friends) 7/6 - 7/12

AEW Dynamite 7/8/26

Konosuke Takeshita vs Kyle Fletcher

If you want a good example that literally any match can be criticized, for years people had one major complaint about Savage vs Steamboat. If you come into it blind, not knowing about the angle that drove it, it's hard to find fault. If you have the context of Savage destroying Steamboat with the ring bell, however, it raises questions. Why did they wrestle it so athletically, so much like a title match? Shouldn't it have been a blood feud? Shouldn't Steamboat have been out for revenge? Shouldn't that have meant something more than just taking the title from Savage?

There is an answer to that but it was one that actually required quite a bit more context, context that was sourced over the years that followed as we obtained and organized more and more footage from the televised house shows leading up to WrestleMania III. They had already worked those heated bloody matches around the horn leading up to the big show. They had gotten it out of their system. Crowds throughout America had seen it. Steamboat (and the fans') bloodlust had been abated and now it was time to hit him where it hurt the most by taking the title in a wrestling match.

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Takeshita had coexisted with Okada for half a year, more. He had lived through transgressions: Okada cheating (the use of a deadly weapon, not just pulling the tights) to defeat him in the C2 semi-finals, disparaging his skills and honor and brotherhood with the rest of the Don Callis family including getting between him and Fletcher, contriving to overshadow him at the Tokyo Dome even though he was the IWGP champion, dissension in a tag team match at a PPV.

Finally Takeshita had earned his match, finally he had him one-on-one for the International Title. And given that honest, earnest chance, Takeshita triumphed. He upset the balance of the Don Callis Family. It seemed like it was going to lead to something more than dissension, to betrayal. He was ready for that though, ready to fight them all off it need be. Then, Kyle Fletcher's music hit. He made his triumphant return, stood side by side with his brother, Takeshita. And then he struck him down. A brother may have been enough for Takeshita, but Fletcher needed the comfort of a broader family. 

AEW is a company full of stories but that has less angles than one might think. This was a clear angle however, and despite AEW's tendency to move right on to the next thing, it was one that could lead to even greater matches. 

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Kyle Fletcher is one of the best heels going. He's shown instincts to inhabit the space of a match, both the feeling out process at the start and the down period of a commercial break, that almost none of his generation (or that prior even) possess. He's excellent at working to a crowd, at reacting in the moment, at creating inciting incidents and then rolling with the results of them. 

His warm up match against ELP was full of this, even despite later knowledge that he was having a bit of a panic attack during the match. ELP began the proceedings by doing his best Bret Hart impression and giving a girl at ringside his tricked out glasses. Later on in the match, when Fletcher had scored a kick out of nowhere and reversed a whip on the floor, he went right over and menaced the girl, getting in her face and drawing heat. Maybe I'm wrong, but it feels almost impossible this was something that was worked out in the back. He saw an opportunity, understood the purpose behind it in ensuring the crowd was turned against it, and he took it, damn the plan, damn the risks. 

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Konosuke Takeshita is a generational talent in specific areas. At his best, he evokes presence like almost no one in wrestling today. He radiates intensity and energy. He combines size and speed and power and ease of movement in a way that is reminiscent of Barry Windham or maybe even Jumbo Tsuruta. I tend to find his instincts far more suspect than Fletcher's, his matches becoming bloated and wasteful, not nearly as efficient as his physical movements across the ring, but I also can't (and wouldn't begin to want to) deny what he excels at and what makes him stand out.

He's one of the greatest raw talents of this decade certainly. Lately, he's been firing up by punching himself in the head repeatedly. He did it during his tag match with Hechicero in Mexico not long ago, and he would do it here as well, and I can hardly think of anyone else that could do that with so much earnestness and verve. Against the right opponent and in the right setting, he's phenomenal. And very much to his credit, even in the wrong setting, doing the wrong things, he's still undeniable in certain ways. 

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So here they were, bolstered by a hot angle, two incredible talents, both off strong recent performances, ready to achieve in the middle of a big card, a supercard so far as weekly television went, title on the line.

And they wrestled. They locked up and chain wrestled for a bit. 

Ah, but then after a few exchanges, Fletcher got a hand up in Takeshita's face and things threatened to boil over, like they should, into a forearm exchange.

And instead of letting really reach a fever pitch, they went right into stilted moves and counter attempts, a tease for bombs that would come later in the match. 

Things spilled out to the floor. Takeshita got distracted by Callis. Both men drank water. Takeshita missed a shot and hit the ringpost. Fletcher worked the arm for a minute. Takeshita came back and hit a big dive and smacked his face, fired up. They went to commercial.

The match would go on with them starting to hit those bigger bombs, including a huge one on the apron. Takeshita would get an advantage. Don Callis would grab his foot. He'd hit his finisher anyway. Fletcher would get a foot on the rope and then, more or less cleanly (despite those two arguable blemishes that did not lead to the finish) would win the match as the commentators noted how good a match these two had wrestled.

Where was the Kyle Fletcher of the ELP match? Why didn't Takeshita's intensity lead to bloodlust? How did any of this stem from the betrayal? What were they even doing here? 

---------------

On my first watch, I was so thrown by all of this that I was going to come in hot, come down hard. 

I've subsequently watched again and I have softened on the match. 

Occasionally you see people say that matches shouldn't be criticized on the basis of "what you want" and I don't think I agree.

You want what you want for a reason. You have expectations coming into a match for a reason. You have a baseline in your head and a best possible scenario. You have those things for a reason, based on your understanding of other matches, of the story at play, at all the possibilities inherent in the artform. These are all completely valid things to judge a match against. That said, I think it's worth trying to understand the match that they did wrestle. If you're going to judge it against the vision in your head, at least go out of your way to wrap your head around what they gave you.

There were a number of factors at play here. This match was premature. It was premature because Takeshita's about to go off and do the G1 for a month. It was maybe premature because they wanted to ensure the International Title was taken off of him for that period, maybe so he didn't eat a bunch of tournament losses while he had it, maybe because it would be more valuable to AEW on AEW TV during this time. Fletcher had never been supposed to lose the TNT title. That was due to injury. If this wasn't going to be the blowoff, having Fletcher win could potentially just heat things up more for later, get more heat on him in general. This match was a supporting player to the main event title change that was Omega vs MJF and it followed another grudge match with a bit more plunder and chaos (and that probably needed it more to be good) in Jericho vs Ciampa. 

Plus it was hot. It was so damn hot out there in the admittedly cool outdoors setting. You could tell. I've seen thousands of matches and you only see guys actually drink water (presumably for cramping reasons) once in a blue moon. You always saw them spit it back out in World of Sport for a reason.

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Those would all be excuses, but none of them would be drivers. 

There are absolutely wrestlers who go out to wrestle the best match possible on paper, that try to check as many boxes as possible, to try to make things as conventionally exciting as they can, story be damned, character be damned, moment be damned.

While it's tempting to think that's what happened here, I don't think it actually is.

You can make the argument that this fit their characters perfectly. Takeshita only ever wants to prove himself against others. Fletcher, on the other hand, has a constant chip on his shoulder, and a need to prove himself. He did against Ospreay. He did in the Continental Classic. He does here. They wrestled this match like brothers, not trying to hurt each other, necessarily, not trying to maximize harm, but instead trying to outdo the other. Outwrestle. Outstrike. Outbomb. 

Here, the heat helped matters. It gave everything an imposing, sweltering tone. It pushed down upon them, pressed them into a corner. It gave everything more weight. Maybe it forced them to focus directly at the task at hand, at the title on the line, and it melted animosity and turned it into a blind sense of competition instead. 

It made for a good match, a very good title match. It distilled their youth and passion and a certain desperation to be seen and recognized into twenty minutes of combat over the International Title. 

I was going to lean hard into the idea that while this was a great match, it wasn't good, because it didn't live up to the build and the potential. I was going to use the timing of it as an excuse.

On a second watch, I don't think that's fair. I think it was both great AND good, that it was plausible and believable given who these two are, where they are in their career, their overall relationship with one another.

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But I don't think it was RIGHT.

I don't think it was the right match for the moment. I think it was shoehorned in due to externalities, due to necessities. 

The betrayal was too recent, too raw, too deep. They hadn't gotten it out of their system yet. 

This is a match that is built to, just like Savage vs Steamboat from Mania III was a match that was built to. Maybe the outcome would have been different, but this the sort of match that should have followed the grudge match and the chain match and the lumberjack match and the cage match. 

I don't think Takeshita should have the bloodlust out of his system yet. I don't think Fletcher should be past the self-delusion and the spite. This match had competitiveness and even moments of brutality but it lacked cruelty. 

They can bring Takeshita back later, have his music hit, have him ruin one of Fletcher's moments, have him make some sort of save, have him get a pop. They can do another angle to get heat back on this.

But they can never have this specific first match again. They can't go back to the start. Fletcher betrayal was answered by Takeshita here by having the best darn wrestling match he could. And yes, it was valid, great, and good. He tried to show his brother up, show that he was better. 

But even that didn't come close to matching the moment. 

They left the blood on the table, chose to honor sweat instead. This was one of those times that blood would have been everything. 

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Found Footage Friday: '86 CROCKETT HANDHELD~! GARVIN~! FLAIR~! NIKITA~! ARN~! MAGNUM~! DUSTY~! RAGING BULL~! WAHOO~!

JCP Handheld Cincinnati 4/27/86

Wahoo McDaniel vs. Jimmy Garvin

MD: We just get five minutes clipped here. It's a real morality play though. Clear, clear lines. Garvin earns nothing. Whenever Wahoo gets the chants, he's smacking him around the ring. Garvin begs off and gets a cheapshot low. He uses Precious pulling the hair from the outside to distract so he can take over. He uses an eye rake. When he's in charge he's laying in stomps or tossing Wahoo into the rail. Wahoo has big definitive shots. Garvin is underhanded and peppers things in. Night and day. Wahoo comes back, does the war dance, hits the chops, but Garvin kicks out at one and runs away to the draw a count out and fight for another day. 

ER: I don't think I ever thought Cincinnati was a place Crockett even toured but I'm also old enough now that a lot of information sounds like new information. I know they ran Cleveland frequently but maybe I didn't ever think about Cincinnati as Crockett Country because we didn't have footage until some guy who loves awful chili that tastes like pumpkin pie brought a camera to document it. I'm glad he did. He wanted the match bad enough to record it as fully as he could while editing on the fly to save battery for the bigger matches. This man, who smelled of raw onion, knew Flair and Garvin had worked broadways in the Carolinas. He couldn't risk it. So we got this clipped, but it's house show perfection. The crowd is so entertained by professional house show Wahoo, not murdering Garvin but doing all his same painful strikes and Native Stooges chops. Wahoo hits Garvin hard and forces Garvin to work up to him. Garvin had excellent worked stomps and the way Wahoo sold being punched in the corner could teach every wrestler today. Watch Wahoo flinch away from a shot under the ribs, reflexively rear back for a punch, before taking another. The best punches and strikers are almost always the best at selling punches. 

Baron von Raschke/Ivan Koloff vs. Manny Fernandez/Hector Guerrero

MD: This was probably a rough 20 minute draw that turned into a good 13 minute clipped draw. Though there was nothing we saw in those 13 minutes to really make me think the full 20 would have been that much of a slog. They went with a double heat structure with a long shine that consisted of Raschke being a pole in the center of the ring that Hector got to roll around and Ivan's arm getting worked over as he bumped, stooged, and fed more. First heat was on Manny and had some good assisted holds that drew in Hector and got heat. Then Hector got to make a big house of fire entrance with rapid punches until he got swept under. The idea was that once he got the hot tag (again rolling all over the place) there just wasn't enough time for Manny to get the win, though he came real close. I don't remember too many draws being worked quite this and it's a solid structure on paper. 

Most fascinating thing to me is just watching the Baron. He lost the offense once by goose stepping and setting up the claw. He had a way of both hitting offense (even stomps) and bumping that he'd move his waist but not his abdomen. He's like an old action figure without enough points of articulation. You can make him sit up in the middle, but then you can't bend his knees or waist. And he still takes bumps and hits offense, but it's amazingly stilted. I've seen plenty of Baron matches but maybe it was just worse by 86? Anyway, maybe this was helped by the clipping, maybe not, but it worked for me.

ER: We love guys who move weird and nobody moves around a ring weirder than 1986 Baron, who is my exact age but he moves like someone re-animated a 75 year old monster from memory. His bumps are terrible, taken only one way, rolling back to his seat waving his arms like he's Accredited Giant Gonzalez. I like how Manny works like Chavo when he teams with Hector. I wonder how he worked when he teamed with Chavo. Probably like an asskicker. Manny hits like a rock and pulls off a flying headscissors, Hector brings energy and the crowd loves his evasive tumbling. Koloff works like the best Haruka Eigen. He did an All Japan tour in 1990 when he was in his late 50s and I need to see every match we have from that tour. I loved how he bumped for Hector's late match hot tag, Korakuen would have gone wild for the ways he ran into the turnbuckles and bounced his way halfway back across the ring. While I'm curious how Baron worked his bearhug, I respect the camera's choice to edit. 

Dusty Rhodes vs. Arn Anderson + Magnum TA vs. Nikita Koloff [Cage]

MD: This is still a bit clipped but you get the sense of what's going on and I loved the Dusty vs Arn portion until the finish. This being a house show, there was such freedom for Dusty to absolutely demolish Arn. Arn sold the cage at first, not the danger of it but the fact he couldn't get away. Then he managed to run himself knee first into the cage. Dusty took over on it with such one-of-a-kind timing on seizing the foot, taking him down, holding it, looking to the crowd, stomping, stomping again. If a conductor of an orchestra is primarily worried about controlling the time and volume, Dusty was the best conductor of a crowd I've ever seen. Just a virtuoso. 

After smashing and rubbing Arn's head against the cage a bit, Arn actually came back with these beautiful low kicks from the ground, just sweeping his leg against Dusty's as if he was dance fighting. He honed in and then, once he had a real advantage, the Russains came out with the chain. I would have probably liked it more if Dusty mounted a comeback and then they came in? But there was also the sense that this was the plan all along if Arn got even the smallest bit of advantage. 

I suppose it worked either way as Magnum rushed in to break it up and start his match with Nikita. This had a totally different feel. Magnum did control early including a goofy atomic drop that sent Nikita in (and justified the blading) and using the cage to help himself bound up to the top turnbuckle for a double axe handle.Nikita lawn darted himself head first into Magnum's gut to take over and Magnum worked well from underneath. At one point he ate a backbreaker and crawled on his knees across the ring and it really worked for me.

Great transition, maybe even an all time one honestly, as Nikita went for the sickle, Magnum moved, and he went arm first into the cage. Things opened up from there with Magnum throwing all sorts of punches and a great sweeping dropkick. I loved the finish too, as Magnum went to toss Nikita head first into the cage, but Nikita grabbed Magnum's head at the last second and they both went in at equal speed. Just a real symbolic sense of them being equals/rivals/fated. That led to a ten count where it seemed like Nikita might beat it but he collapsed and Magnum shot up at the last second to a huge pop. Lots to love here.

ER: I appreciate that we got a little handheld ambiance before the match, our documentarian filming the people at the Cincinnati Gardens, reminding us that Miller Lite tastes great and is less filling, giving us a too brief glimpse of the ringside guardrails getting moved around before the cage goes up. As Dusty goes after Arn's ankle, I appreciate that everything you hear yelled by the crowd sounds like create-a-crowd ADR. "Do it again, Dusty!" "Give it to him!" "Stomp that ankle, Dusty!" It's clipped up, but I'm glad we get Arn's killer missed knee strike into the cage, Dusty seated on the middle rope but dodging, Arn's knee going into the cage, Arn throwing the knee to actually connect with Dusty and thus hitting the cage just as his knee would have connected with Dusty's stomach. After getting his face ground into the cage, Arn misses a wild swing and takes perhaps the fastest faceplant I've seen from a miss, a reaction to a Dusty elbow that swings him into the mat faster than anything Dusty could have done to him. 

TA vs. Nikita portion is a real hot fight. Koloff was great at taking punches and Magnum was great at throwing them. Koloff took an axe handle better than most I've seen, really selling the impact in how he let it drive him spinning to the mat. Koloff is great at taking Magnum's punches, none better than in the aftermath of him missing the sickle into the cage. Magnum lands a jab to Koloff's nose and Nikita winces up like he's prematurely stopping a gush of blood. Wahoo hit this great swinging axe handle to Garvin's chest in the opener, and I thought that was the coolest strike of the night, until Magnum threw the same swinging axe handle at Nikita's face. It's funny that the "first man to his feet, Wins" finish came after both ran each other into the cage, which was treated much more seriously than Magnum straight up murdering Nikita with a piledriver moments before. I still loved the drama around both men getting to their feet. 

Ric Flair vs. Ron Garvin

MD: Opening few minutes of this were great. Flair would press Garvin into the corner, try to take a liberty, smack him, immediately get smacked back, sell it with shock. It was a lovely bit of vaudeville. I'm torn on parts of this one overall. Flair's narratives just don't come together how I'd like. What happens in minute 17 doesn't necessarily stem logically from what happens in minute 6 like with other greatest-of-all-time wrestlers. But that doesn't necessarily mean that what happens in minute 17 isn't good and that it doesn't fit the moment or the characters. But it leaves me wondering if something was left on the table sometimes. But maybe I'm wrong and this is better and more organic somehow. 

Here, when Flair did take over, it felt clear like he was fed up from all the shots he took from Garvin and that he just wanted to lay shots in, not worried about winning or any sort of strategy. It was raw and human and effective, and I think the issue isn't it necessarily, but when he went into the finish and started to target the leg. I preferred him punching Garvin in the face to being just as mean about the leg, but then when things had to slip into some sort of finishing sequence, it wasn't one that matched the rest of the contest. My favorite shot he did was when he had Garvin draped over the top rope like Sheamus (or like he was setting him up for Eigen's spit spot) and instead of just whacking him in the chest, he punched him in the cheek. 

Maybe I'm wrong though. Maybe the narrative is that Flair was angry and he was mean and cruel but in the face of Garvin constantly firing back, maybe he was a coward and maybe he blinked first, and he went to the knee out of desperation and then tried to cover it with bluster like it was his plan all along. Maybe it's my fault for just not having enough faith in Flair. Maybe I'm not fair to Flair. Regardless, the finish did hit, with Garvin, leg torn up, eating a second shinbreaker anyway to punch Flair in the face. Both guys went sprawling to the floor and got counted out. You can't say the fans didn't get their money here at least.

ER: Love the guy in the crowd who, as Tommy Young is holding up Flair's title, keeps saying, "Garvin's leaving with it! Garvin's leaving with it!" Super physical match, which I greatly respect, and if we had it in full I'd say it's one of my favorite Flair matches of the era. We don't know how long the actual match may have gone, but we have 21+ minutes of it here and it's easy to think they went past 30, and they were fighting the whole time. Garvin unsurprisingly throws the hardest punches of the night while Flair takes the hardest bumps, but it's so much more than that. Unless edited out entirely, they don't hit the mat at all. No long builds out of headscissors, no wear down holds, just pure physicality in every exchange. Even though it had several staples of Every Town Paid to See My Shit Flair, this feels paced differently from a lot of Flair touring champ matches. The schtick blended into the fight a lot better than I've seen it in many highly acclaimed Flair matches, and his cumulative selling felt like a guy who really had been battered and beaten for 30 minutes. There were no moments where he was taking bigger bumps for Tommy Young or running ropes after selling fatigue, this was always fought like two men getting progressively worn down and hurt from their fight. 

When Flair goes into his own personal Showstopper mode, many things can feel disconnected from everything else in the match. This never felt that way, every blur of fighting felt like a part of their larger war, and every exchange had such physical power that by the time we were 30 in and both men were limping around the ring after each other, artistry out the window, scrambling and crawling over each other for any advantage, it felt like a righteous culmination to their war. Some of my favorite moments include Garvin popping Flair right in the forehead for a nearfall and shaking out his fist while still lying across Flair's body, fanning his fingers while still pressing Flair to the mat. It's no secret that Garvin has amazing punches, but you could randomly step into any minute of this match and see a perfect example of some all timers. Garvin's punches all look sped up, like the punch is sped up at the point of impact to make them look harder than they are, but Garvin is just that good. When he throws three perfect punches before rolling smoothly into a jackknife pin, I thought it was an honest to god real finish. 

Flair getting pressed off the top actually served the match, wasn't just an excuse for Flair to take one of his bumps. It leads immediately to Garvin dropping an elbow for 2, and the punches he rains down on Flair after the kickout are incredible, standing over him punching down at Flair, Flair groggily trying to sit up but just getting punched over and over, like he's being punished for kicking out. Garvin also does this beautiful thing where he takes a knee breaker and fucking decks Flair upon landing, before falling in a heap himself. Wrestling needs more guys who lash out instinctively upon feeling pain, before the pain consumes them and they are forced to sell. Garvin definitely sold the damage of that knee breaker, but he reacted like someone who stubs their toe and foolishly lashes out and attacks the bed frame he stubbed it on. It makes much more sense to have that reaction to a man trying to hurt you, and once you see Garvin deck Flair you wonder why it's something we don't see more. This is the most boiled down raw version of Misawa popping up to hit an elbow and it's beautiful. Great match, great war. 

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80s Joshi on Wednesday: Jaguar! Richter!

Volume 4  

3. Jaguar Yokota vs. Wendi Richter (WWWA Singles Title) - 10/5/82

K: This is all long before I was born so I don’t have the same level of interest in seeing the famous American women wrestlers in Japan that others will. For example I’ve probably seen more of Leilani Kai wrestling Japanese opponents than anyone else. Wendi Richter’s a slight exception in that I first saw her when I was exploring the early Hulkamania period and hadn’t gotten into Japanese wrestling yet. She’s an interesting personality for being pushed as such a big star in 1984/85, just from watching the shows you’d think she was a bigger than than anyone in the company other than Hogan and Andre. Of course that run would end quite abruptly. It’s also hard to tell how good she was from watching that run as her matches were mostly just Moolahisms. I’m not the expert so there may be some standouts that I’m missing/forgetting, but from what I’ve seen so far, if you want to see Richter at something close to her potential, this is the match you should watch.

Wendi works as a very skillful technical wrestler here, and she has the legit skill to pull it off effectively and make it entertaining. Jaguar is usually dominant at this sort of thing so her even going 50/50 is putting her over in a way. She fights a little dirty sometimes, for example the moments where she throws Jaguar throat-first onto the ropes. But her most heelish trait, and her undoing, is that she’s so arrogant. Constantly stopping to strut, show off to the crowd and complain to the referee about non-existent affronts. She’ll get the advantage on Jaguar and take her down, but then rather than really press it, she’ll stop to do a pose in the ring to taunt the crowd, which gives Jaguar the time to recover and hit her with a quick dropkick.

If the narrative here is supposed to be that Wendi was initially underestimating Jaguar, I think they pay it off well when about 2/3rds in Wendi offers Jaguar a handshake, with a very “ok I respect you now” facial expression that I don’t think we’re meant to take as completely earnest. Jaguar’s not gonna allow it to break up her momentum anyway and continues on her offensive stretch. Her figure four looks really great. It feels a bit deflating (if you’re rooting for her) that Wendi is able to - with a lot of struggle - break free of it.

There’s a very cool move where Jaguar locks Wendi’s arm behind her back, and then walks up her from the side to lock in a submission. It doesn’t go well for her in the end as Wendi throws her off eventually, I thought Jaguar was gonna turn it into an offensive move for a moment. 

I don’t like the finish of this, even if I liked the match as a whole. In the final 3rd I thought they did a good job on conveying that the momentum is gradually shifting towards Jaguar. Like she’s winning a war of attrition. Every stretch on offense she gets just gets slightly longer and Wendi’s more and more fleeting. Jaguar hits a great missile dropkick after dodging a flying legdrop. Then, for some reason, the AJW wrestlers grab Wendi when she’s on the outside and pull her in front of Jaguar for her to hit a very impressive flip into a dive, which she follows up with another excellent tombstone and the win. The execution of it all was great but I just question the idea of the babyface winning due to outside help that wasn’t really in retaliation for anything? Maybe politics got in the way of logic.

***1/2



MD: Rarely in this project so far have I been surprised. A lot of that is just because I don’t know what to expect coming in, sure, but this one really did surprise me. Richter looked great here. She looked like she was going to be one of the best heels of the 80s. I don’t even think that’s hyperbole. I came in and watched the entrances thinking that her jawing and posturing and rooting and tooting cowgirl act was going to be the best part of the match.

Then she started by basing big for Yaguar, basically allowing her to climb up her for monkey flips and the like. And when she took over on offense, she used the size differential to the fullest and her stuff looked really good and was varied and interesting. She suplexed her from the apron in. She spun her around with a dangling choke in the center of the ring. She caught her off the turnbuckles and dropped her with a backbreaker. She hit this wild one legged front dropkick out of nowhere. She worked the fingers. She had a hanging tree choke toss and walked around the ring with an over the shoulder neckbreaker and a Canadian backbreaker. And her in between movements, with knee drops and big boots and choking was all good. At one point she held on with the hair on a headlock, retook it that way once, and then on the second pull, got her knee up for a sort of short knee trembler which looked awesome. This was Wendi Richter, offensive dynamo. 

Jaguar would take any chance she had. When Richter gave her a little space, she used it, especially tossing her about on the outside. But Richter had such a size advantage that she was able to cut her off pretty easily. Still, Jaguar kept coming. After she hit her butt butt and butterfly suplex, she put Wendi into this gnarly twisting submission I haven’t seen her do before, and later on she was able to put on both the figure four and to climb up her for a hanging armhold. She even managed an airplane spin. Finish had Jaguar’s seconds get Wendi in position for her doing a front tumble into a tope which the camera barely caught well but looked amazing nonetheless and then her front tombstone. Very solid win for Jaguar here as it felt like she overcame a mountain. 

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AEW Five Fingers of Death (and Friends) 6/29 - 7/5

AEW Dynamite 7/1/26

MJF vs Mark Briscoe

MD: This, much like MJF's 2026 overall, is a story about vulnerability and about strength. If I've learned anything about pro wrestling over the last twenty years, it's that the greatest tool that a pro wrestler has is vulnerability. It's counter-intuitive maybe, and dozens upon dozens of wrestlers over the years have certainly felt that way, almost entirely to their own detriment, but it's the skeleton key. Pro wrestling isn't math. Sometimes it's magic. But if there's one lever that can lift up the world, it's vulnerability.

You know some of the great examples. You have Honky Tonk Man, who let himself look the coward and fool and was set up to lose each and every night only to somehow escape with the belt. It's more than just him though. It's almost every great heel champion during the territory era. They were primed for failure (and thus success; weakness and thus strength) through non-title matches, through angles, through time limit draws, to give hope to crowds, to build up expectations, to get people into the building. They'd win with a banana peel finish, with the feet on the ropes, due to interference, and thus the babyface came out stronger even in defeat. 

There's Terry Funk in Japan. Why did Terry get over unlike almost any other foreigner? It's because he let himself get beat down like no one else around him. And then, of course, once he got beat down, he never quit, he always kept fighting. There's Stan Hansen, who was a force of nature, an absolute beast, but if he smashed his arm into the corner post, if he had someone who could work him over in just the right way, it'd be a wedge that would shatter even steel. 

The wrestler that feels like he can't show ass, the heel that can't or won't stooge, the babyface that has to look overly tough, all of the wrestlers that have to get all of their stuff in, those are the wrestlers who'll always be a step behind in the end, whose matches won't hold up in the grand scheme of things. 

Vulnerability moves hearts and minds even today. It creates dissonance. People know that MJF can do so many things, yet he still goes for shortcuts, still begs off. The match started and the crowd chanted almost equally for MJF and Briscoe. So what did they do? 

MJF started with a cheapshot kick to the gut. He put on a headlock, got tossed right off, and then hefted up into a sidewalk slam. He scooted back to the corner and tried to beg off, tried to call time out just seconds into the match, and Briscoe stomped him. He tossed Max into the corner but Max lifted up and over, sold his bum leg like it was really hurt, but it was all a feint so he could step over and hit the pile driver. 

In the span of a minute or two, he showed that he was willing to start the match ignobly, to run away and beg off when things didn't go his way, to fake an injury to get an advantage. And guess what? The fans weren't chanting for him anymore. He had the advantage. He had clearly shown that he was capable and dangerous, had survived a big early move by Briscoe. Yet, he had done it in the least admirable way possible. Strength in vulnerability. Vulnerability in strength. Your lead heel. Feel free to boo him.

And of course, once he got under the crowd's skin, he doubled down, pulling Briscoe's bandage off, taking a bite of the wound, then mocking the crowd for buying into his hurt leg with a smirk on his face. He worked the wound. He hit a back body drop. He posed and preened. He worked the wound. He hit a back body drop. He posed and preened. He worked the wound. He hit a back body drop. He posed and preened. Of course, because pro wrestling is better than real life, on the third back body drop, Briscoe landed on his feet and Max turned around, frozen like a punching bag, unafraid to be vulnerable, unafraid to stooge, as he stumbled right into some redneck kung fu.

Briscoe would beat on Max for a bit, would go for the Froggy Bow. Max would fall onto the rope, crotching him. Strength of action, vulnerability of character. He'd point to his head, let it sink in, and then get knocked off the turnbuckles when he tried to follow up, eating said Froggy Bow. Vulnerability of action to go with his vulnerability of character. It's a morality play, one that feels so incredibly refreshing against the backdrop of a real world where the bad guys seem to get away with just about everything.

The match would continue along these lines. MJF would go out of his way to give the fans nothing to admire. When Briscoe tried to use a table, Max reversed things and tossed him onto the apron instead. Then he carefully put the table away and subsequently played to the crowd as if he was going to get another table before flicking them off. The table might have given him an advantage, but here his vulnerability was his hatred of them, his ego. That's the thing about Max at his best, he sets himself up to lose either way, and in doing that he wins at being a heel, especially when he still somehow gets away with it. 

And get away with it he would. This time around, the match ended with MJF surviving the Jay Driller, no foot on the ropes, no rolling out of the ring. He kicked out. Undeniable strength in the face of all that vulnerability. It's a difficult balance, strength and vulnerability. You need that title to stand for something. You need his ultimate comeuppance to matter. Honky Tonk Man was pretty vicious when he had his opportunities, but that was also a secondary belt. This is the world title. 

Briscoe is a folk hero, bulletproof to a degree (him winning the TNT title last year was very important just to keep the faith), and Max had so much vulnerability to cash in on, both in this match and in general. He had lost to Darby in a similar circumstance right after a PPV. He had never kicked out of the Jay Driller before. The way things have gone this year, people are well and truly left guessing. There's something to that if you want to draw a weekly TV rating. All of this made the stip next week where Omega (like Hangman before him) won't be able to challenge again if he loses all the more poignant, and MJF kicking out of the Jay Driller will give them some capital to cash in if Omega gets to hit the One Winged Angel. All of this matters. All too often, pro wrestling spends and spends and spends. Max has been investing well this year, and my gut says there are plenty of payoffs left to come. 

And yet none of this would be possible if he didn't have the bravery to be the most vulnerable guy going, even as yes, he hangs on to that belt for yet another week after finishing as strong as ever. That's pro wrestling for you.

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Found Footage Friday: 1989 AJPW~! MALENKO~! FUCHI~! ABBY~! BABA~! KAMALA~! MIGHTY~! RUSHER~!

Mighty Inoue vs. Shinichi Nakano AJPW 2/23/89

MD: Another set of Classics drops as we go down the list of new footage. This one is probably one I wouldn't have gone out of my way for in general, but it was good overall. A Jr. Heavyweight Title match. We've gotten pieces filled in for this lineage and defenses and the matches hold up quite well against late 80s NJPW title matches really. You have guys like Fuchi, Inoue, and Momota carrying the division with people like Joe Malenko popping in.

I don't have a lot of time for Nakano in general, but this was set up to be almost impossible to fail. For one, he ambushed right from the start, giving things early direction and not forcing them into feeling out matwork he might not excel at. He slapped Inoue out of nowhere and then hit his signature power slam before tossing him to the floor and destroying him on the rails. Back in the ring, it was a seated chinlock. He at times had a sense that he wasn't sure how to best capitalize on the moment. 

None of that from Inoue. First chance he got (grabbing the head out of a Nakano toehold) he focused right in and chained three or four things together perfectly. As the match went on and they went back and forth, he wouldn't let things meander much either. At one point, Nakano was hitting shoulder thrusts in the corner with not enough pepper behind them, so Inoue asserted himself and started shin kicking him in the face. 

They had an exciting finishing stretch where Inoue got him down for the flipping sentons but missed the second. That allowed Nakano to hit his fisherman's suplex but Inoue got out to win with a very cool headscissors roll up out of a side slam. This overachieved, but it was entirely because Inoue is so good.

ER: I love Matt's specific, targeted dislike of Nakano, but I'm not sure I agree. I thought this match was great, but because of both men, and how easy they made it to buy in to an All Japan juniors match based around stiff work and snug holds. When I first started trading tapes, traders were not fans of the All Japan juniors division. If you wanted "Juniors Wrestling" there were so many other options: Michinoku Pro, New Japan, WAR, lucha, all filled with small guys working fast and flying, building to big highspots. All Japan's juniors division had none of that. It was permanently understocked with talent, AJPW never used it to showcase a future star, gaijin imports mostly focused on heavyweights (meaning you might get at best Rex King in a juniors match), and the matches were mostly worked like Kings Road undercard matches. It was not the style people associated with juniors wrestling, and now I'm far enough removed from that, that I can see the style for what it is and love it. 

Nakano tried to get the drop on Inoue and wear him down with holds, but since he is just a lesser version of Inoue it only worked until Inoue got fired enough to put him back in his place. Nakano came out hot, staggering Inoue good with a slap across the face and trying to secure a quick surprise title win with an awesome powerslam, knowing Inoue would be favored the longer the match went. When he moved into wearing down Inoue with holds, I bought all of them, because every submission felt like Nakano was working it to specifically finish the match. He believed in this firmly held submissions, and it made each one matter. His camel clutch, late match Boston crab, his single leg crab, all felt like something he was locking in to force a submission, never just to kill time. I bought into the struggle on every hold, and especially got into Inoue's long escape pulling a chinlock out of a deathlock, stretching Nakano until breaking. It all led to organic advances. Inoue's grounded headlock was snugly pulled into a swinging neckbreaker, the way he fanned Nakano's legs while locking in a butterfly stretch looked punishing, and when he locked in the tightest headscissors possible it was nice foreshadowing for the headscissor cradle he used to retain his title. 

If I'm talking about guys pulling snug submissions that look like they could get a tap, none looks better than Nakano pulling Inoue into a bow and arrow and holding it firm. How many bow and arrows subs have you seen fall apart at the seams? The legs come uncrossed, the knees aren't pressed firmly into the back to hold the sub taut, it's almost as common to see someone inadvertently slip out of the hold while rolling onto their back than it is to see a firm successfully applied lock, and Nakano puts the work in on every part of the sub. He put in the visual work of digging his knee into Inoue's back while securing the deathlock, worked through every bit of securing the hold at both ends of Inoue's body, leaving no wriggle room when he rolls to his back with Inoue stretched. 

Does Inoue "look better" as a wrestler? Yes, probably. His fast and weighty crucifix pin was so good I thought it was the finish for sure, and the way he makes cradles and backslide attempts feel threatening in general means there's always a sense he can surprise with a finish, which made his cradled headscissors work so well. He gives weight to opponents' with good selling in holds and fast bumps. His flipping bump through the ropes to the floor is one of my favorite signature bumps. I love how this man exits a ring. But, All Japan Juniors matches were never about crazy bumps or building to big highspots, which was why the division never got acclaim 30 years ago. I'm not even sure what the biggest highspot of this match was - the crucifix pin? Inoue's somersault senton? - and that's why people weren't seeking out this work. Viewing it outside of its Juniors framing you can see how tight the work was. 

Giant Baba/Rusher Kimura vs. Abdullah the Butcher/Giant Kimala AJPW 3/8/89

MD: It would be easy to dismiss this, to just say some fun things about Baba's cool trip on Kamala, how Kamala fought out of the corner, or how great Rusher's strikes against Abby looked. Or we could play into the amusing bits here, the amazing look on Baba's face when Abby got a cheapshot on him on a rope break and then did the whole martial arts hand waving shtick. We could go on about how they were like a married couple having a spat and how delightful that was. And that'd be valid. We could talk about how into this the crowd was, how they buzzed for Kamala's big moments or Abby asserting himself or Rusher making a comeback or whenever Baba came into the ring. 

And on some level, I am going to talk briefly about the sum of all of that. But I just don't think I can do this justice. I'm not even sure I want to do this justice. This match, ten minutes or so until the countout, is its own sort of magic. It's delightful. I was smiling the whole way through, out of delight, and I rode the same wave as the crowd, decades later. I could argue that we were taught and trained and conditioned not to enjoy matches like this and then I'd feel dumb, because of how stupid that sounds, but also because how stupid it makes me feel that at one point in my life many years ago, I would have denied myself this sort of joy, would have tried to hide behind a sort of self-important sense that wrestling had to be something else. 

Sometimes wrestling should be this. Hell, most wrestling should be begging to be this, because this clash of characters, of timing, of conducting a crowd, of heart and humor and misfit, monster, mythic heroism and villainy... it's just so different than we can hope to find out of most other forms of entertainment. There's nothing in the world quite like this. Watch this. It's ten minutes plus some before and after. Let yourself feel what that crowd was feeling. Smile along. Be delighted. It's okay. The world is a dark place, but there's light to be found in the least likely of places.

ER: I get so excited whenever Matt and I get to write about Abdullah the Butcher and Kimala 2 teaming in All Japan, that I went into this having no idea it was actually Abby teaming with the real Kamala. I've seen so many Abby/Kimala 2 matches, several matches where both Kamala's team with Abby in a trios, but I've seen little of Abdullah and original Kamala as a team. I think it only happened on this one tour. Also, it's important to note that I don't think Real Kamala is an upgrade overall, but it does make the team more threatening and less beatable. Kamala in Japan is weird. He looks like he'd be a natural fit, because his size and appearance makes him stand out more than at any time he was in WWF, it's just that his work does not fit in with Kings Road style at all, and at times he comes off like a total first year fat guy who isn't sure how to work with any of the old pros he's in with. He throws his overhand chops somehow worse than he threw them in 1993 WWF, but at least he tried throwing spin kicks like 1986 Kamala. His early match spin kick into Rusher's chest was easily his highlight of the match. 

So, with no Kimala 2 to work the heel in peril role, it is down entirely to Abdullah to create all the match's intrigue, which he is great at doing. His work against Baba and Rusher is always worth seeing, regardless of what current freak is teaming with him. Abby's aura lifts other, differently fat ships, because there is no other situation where Kamala would have grabbed Rusher to headbutt him if he wasn't headbutting him with Abby. I was impressed by Baba's work with Kamala, how all his chops looked like they were moving the large savage, knocking him down to build to the big Abby/Baba showdown that everyone was dying to see. Abdullah looked like he had so much fun working with Baba, just try not to smile as Abby is doing his karate posing. He looks like he's having a ball, and while I think it is very silly that Abby gets busted open by Kamala's tribal mask, it leads to Baba straight kicking Abby in his forehead grooves several times and Rusher opening those cuts with headbutts, so the silliness leads directly to violence. The karate chops and backhands Abby throws at Baba's neck to stop the onslaught are one of the things that make their showdowns worth watching no matter the year. 

I take it back, maybe Kamala's best contribution to this was when Rusher swarmed him with chops and punches, Kamala selling the swarm by backpedaling in fear while flailing his arms to keep hornets away from his face. Kamala feels so out of place in Japan, that there can be awkward moments...but when a moment like that plays into his fish out of water placement, suddenly it all makes sense. 

Joe Malenko vs. Masa Fuchi AJPW 10/20/89

MD: I can't help but think about this match in context. 1989 All Japan is defined by the war between Tenryu and Jumbo, between Hansen teaming with Tenryu and tearing through people, by Footloose having spotfests, Rusher and Eigen and Okuma doing comedy, guys like Shunji Takano and Kabuki scrapping and holding down the midcard against both Revolution and foreign monsters. And yet, here is a an absolute throwback to both the sort of 70s hold-driven matches Jumbo had made his name on and the sort of Junior Heavyweight technical battles we'd expect out of Fujinami at the turn of the 80s before Tiger Mask changed the paradigm in New Japan. It feels like the pinnacle of the Denny Brown/Nelson Royal style of NWA Junior Heavyweight Title matches that riddled the undercards of certain territories for years. 

I also can't help but think of Newborn UWF, a native monster that was threatening all traditional ways of doing business in Japan. To watch Maeda, Takada, Yamazaki, Anjo, and all the others is to feel a constant sense of danger. One mistake could bring a fight to an end or allow for severe punishment. There's a tension that leaves viewers on edge the whole time through. It's exciting but it's also exhausting. There can be narratives. There were always narratives. But they were based on an incessant pressure. This is different. It's a slow unlocking, a game of chess instead of a perilous tug of war. Damage had to be done, joints had to be weakened, effort had to be put in. It required a different sort of investment, both for the wrestlers and for the crowd. The struggle is somehow more simulated but also richer and broader for that simulation. It may not feel quite as real but it feels just as true. The wrestlers struggle for every inch, sell every twist of a joint, and react emotionally to consequences (such as Fuchi retreating from the ring, arm damaged, after it seemed like Malenko had an answer for everything he tried). If UWF was constant sudden death, this was regulation soccer, where the ebb and flow of shots on goal and ball possession would add up over time.

And of course, I couldn't help but think about Fuchi. He's the most versatile wrestler I've ever seen. He could go from comedy, to a title match like this, to mauling younger wrestlers. You see wrestlers manage that over their career, but for him that might all be within the same week. I think about him destroying the knees of the Super Generation Army on tables, brutality on top of brutality. Here though, it was a chess  move. It opened the match up, turned everything on its head, gave him a lever to pry on for the rest of the match, and pry he did. Malenko was constantly off balance and every subsequent move he hit was full of desperation. Fuchi could, would, and did throw little pokey kicks to the knee to take back over whenever the opportunity arose. It was the same move, even the same brutality, but it was used in an entirely different way than those Tsuruta-gun trio matches of a year or two later. 

It all built to a spectacular finishing stretch. Malenko's desperation paid off for him as he caught Fuchi in a bridging blockbuster fallaway slam. He followed it up with a northern lights suplex and then a clutch armbar. With leg damaged, he couldn't put Fuchi away. Fuchi, arm possibly still hurt, went with leaping enziguiris instead, and then was able to jam Malenko's final attempt to slip around him for a bridging butterfly suplex and the title win. So while I thought back, forward, and laterally to 70s Jumbo, to Denny Brown, to 1989 AJPW, to UWF, and to 1991 six-mans, what I thought about most of all was how this match stood on its own, and just how good it all was. History might show these late 80s AJPW Juniors matches to be a last gasp of an older tradition in some ways, but it was a gasp that showed how much vital, vibrant, and worthwhile life might have still been left to be found in the style.

ER: I wrote about the maligned/unregarded All Japan juniors style up above as we were breaking down Mighty Inoue/Shinichi Nakano without realizing that Matt went into different detail on the style in this review down below. Denny Brown is an interesting style comparison for this type of match, and it's interesting because at one point that would have been considered a pejorative and now it's clearly being used as a positive comp to something that we both miss from modern wrestling. This match is nothing but excellent, honest work, both guys gluing themselves together to craft something tough and true while making my own joints and ligaments scream out in pain. 

They build this around increasingly torqued holds, no traditional "highspots", no strike exchanges of any kind, just one blunt attack that leads to a long full match of superglue. The blunt attack comes when Fuchi begins smiling and taunting Joe with a couple of head fakes, a couple of lunges that weren't ever leading to anything, but Joe sees the evil behind Fuchi's smile and just headbutts him in the face when he gets his hands on him, wrestling him to the ground and beginning the always satisfying wrenching. Joe's holds all look like the finish: his cradle, grapevining one leg while concurrently forcing Fuchi into a painful half nelson, using all his limbs to manipulate Fuchi's body, not going for a pin just going for pain; a camel clutch with no pullback on the chin, all focus instead on hooking both arms and pulling back on them as he sinks into the hold, leaving Fuchi wincing and rubbing out his shoulders after he escapes to the floor.

Joe Malenko is someone who can make a Fujiwara armbar takedown look like a hold that damages the entire body. The way he takes Fuchi's arm and drives him down with his full weight sends Fuchi's head, face, and shoulder into the mat, like he was using the arm as leverage to do something more sinister. He uses that same leveraged arm to do a Russian legsweep when Fuchi eventually fights to his feet, holding the arm the whole time and using that as the point to pivot into attacks that folded in other limbs. 

Fuchi makes no inroads working the mat with Joe so eventually involves his tried and true friend Ringside Table to smash Joe's knee into. Joe's knee selling is real and escalates the match instantly. I love an injury coming into play late in a match, rather than give someone a memory exercise in the first couple minutes that makes it near impossible to do an actual match without conveniently forgetting your injury. Once Fuchi smashes Joe in the knee, Joe's strategy changes entirely and you can see in his eyes that this was the worst thing to happen to him. Fuchi is now in kill mode and Malenko is bringing out the big guns. The way Joe swings his leg away from Fuchi's single leg attempt before swinging him over with a front face lock takeover, catching a high crossbody and floating over with Fuchi's momentum into a bridging pin, and a clean northern lights that I'm sure he wished he had pulled off earlier with a sturdier knee. Fuchi doesn't so much as wear Joe down as he does hold him down long enough to win, the same thing Joe had been doing all match long. Excellent work all around, showcasing a style that really wouldn't be hard to integrate into any modern work, you just have to be honest and actually put in the work. That's the thing I don't see happening.  

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Every Dog Has Its Day: Zack Sabre, Jr. vs. Darian Bengston

PRODUCE Volume 1: The Octopus 6/29/26

Zack Sabre Jr. vs. Darian Bengston

"Let Hercules himself do what he may,

The cat will mew, and dog will have his day."

Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 1

MD: Wrestling, even artful wrestling, especially artful wrestling, is quite often purposeful. An opener serves a purpose. This is just as true for a first scene in a movie, the first track on an album. It sets the stage. It establishes a mood.

While there were pre-show matches on PRODUCE Volume 1, they were tastes and teasers, a glimpse of the wide breadth of the possibilities of the indies in the span of fifteen minutes: comedy, power, toughness, style, and just the right amount of karaoke.

This was the start of the main card and the main course, and it had to do heavy lifting. It had to make a statement about PRODUCE itself, about independent wrestling, about all of the possibilities in the previous paragraph and more.

Zack Sabre, Jr. is often likened to Johnny Saint, and for good reason, but I see him more as a modern day Billy Robinson, not necessarily in how he wrestles, but in who he wrestles. I've seen footage of him in places of the world few other foreigners delve and it reminds me of the stories of Robinson in Iraq or India. While his home base is New Japan, he presents himself as someone who wrestles who he wants, when he wants, where he wants. He is a globetrotter, a world warrior. He created a role for himself and then, over time, with effort (and not at all a sure thing), he grew into it. For him to be starting off a show like this represents something.

Bengston represents something too. There's such life to him, such joy in how he wrestles. This is a guy who loves wrestling, loves technique, loves to challenge himself, loves to open up those little moments of triumph and celebrate them (even sometimes to his own detriment). It's clear as day to watch him move. And that technique is underpinned by a humanity and vulnerability. He has fun, he flexes his skills, he certainly has his pride, but he's relatable. He's a wrestler, and wrestlers do manipulate by trade (and we welcome them to do so; we invite them in and, in turn, they invite us in; that is the pact between us), but there's an earnestness to the process to him that just makes it all the more effective. You want to root for the guy. You want him to succeed. 

This would be a battle of technique, but not wrestling for the sake of wrestling (which can be fine and good, of course, but often is best seen as a starting point and not the destination). Personal issues are at the root of professional wrestling, and they contrived a fine one between these two for this opener.

ZSJ is on record in saying that putting on a great technical match for an American audience is like “reading Shakespeare to a dog." It's a notion that undermines the audience, the audience here being far more important than the country as a whole. PRODUCE touts a different relationship with the audience, claiming that it won't insult their intelligence. At the same time, it expects something more from them, that they embrace professional wrestling as art, something worth thinking about and engaging with, worth experiencing with an open heart instead of irony and self-conscious minimizing. The wrestling will be brave and confident and the fans will be brave and confident as well.

It insults Bengston as well. To hear it from him, he went to England to learn both wrestling and Shakespeare. This is an opportunity against an opponent who was on a featured match on a huge PPV the night before, against one who is considered one of the best technical wrestlers of his generation, but it's also a chance to prove Sabre wrong, to lift up himself, the crowd, and the fledgling organization.

So yes, there was a mood to be set, and they managed it admirably on the mat. Sabre controlled to start, using one hold to unlock the next (sometimes a criticism of him, but in 2026, it comes off as strategic to me more often than not). He was able to pry down Bengston's leg despite an attempt to jam it. When controlling the arm, he gave a little wave to the crowd. He saw this as easy work. Bengston however, snuck a leg in as a simple too to create leverage, breaking a hold and turning things around on ZSJ. Bengston chose to use his superior positioning to ride ZSJ's back in the most insulting way possible. Sabre, of course, took offense. The mood was set.

ZSJ came in hot, separating arms and stepping down upon them, forcing pain to blossom across Darian's face. Bengston cartwheeled away at first chance and was able to return favor to ZSJ's legs. Sabre managed an elevated half crab but when he went for a bow and arrow, Bengston snuck in a tight short dragon screw. It wasn't necessarily a human game of chess so much as frenetic technical table tennis of joints and limbs.

Sabre volleyed back, dropping down and kicking out the arm. So far the match had its rhythm, its punctuation, but that felt like the first real transition as Sabre honed in on one specific body part. That's how we break down matches, how we analyze and organize them. Some have clear shine/heat/comeback structures, but so many don't. In those, you're looking for the transitions, the shifting of the tides of fate and advantage. You're watching to see how the characters interact, how they are affected, how they affect one another. And how they interface with the rules and norms of the world.

This match was an opportunity not just to establish these two characters, the style, the stakes, but also the rules and the potential consequence for them. Sabre doubled down on the arm, starting in with his trademark joint manipulation with the fingers. The ref immediately pulled out a yellow card, something new, something different, something perhaps timely in this World Cup year. Sabre complained, and riding another wave of transition (or, perhaps were we to lean into the narrative itself, opportunity), Bengston was able to recover.

He reversed a whip into a headlock takeover, and, much like Sabre before him, shifted from one hold to the next, looking for what he wanted. Unfortunately, what he wanted here was to preen and taunt, to shoot an imaginary basketball through an imaginary hoop and right down upon Sabre's head. Character drives action, and Bengston's character, human as it might be, allowed Sabre to drive right over him, and right into a cross arm-breaker.

A few minutes later, after the two traded uppercuts and once Sabre took over himself, Sabre's own character reared his head, for good and ill. The holds became less rote and more experimental. In this, Sabre was an artist dabbling in bodily architecture. What if a joint was twisted this way, one limb stacked over the other, a leg raised high over head? What edifice might he create? There was a schoolyard element to it, an older sibling contorting a younger, something that wasn't done with respect, but perhaps with familiarity and affection. Bengston had proven himself worth this sort of playful effort, worth an affectionate bullying instead of just a professional dismantling. It was a welcome into a global family of grapplers.

Unsurprisingly, Bengston took it like all younger siblings take it, with frustration and aggravation. He broke free, slapped the mat, pushed up and kept fighting. Sabre, at times, and as the match went on, certainly wanted this, but Bengston needed it. It gave him fire, but it left him well-suited for table tennis, not chess, and at some point, when it was time to bring things to a close, Sabre shifted gears from jamming (literal and figurative) to precise mastery. 

Bengston held his own during the pin exchanges of the finishing stretch, but even being admirably and effectively reactive was never going to be enough in a world where you have to think three moves ahead. Sabre was, unsurprisingly, perhaps inevitably, able to trap him for the pin.

Zack Sabre, Jr., wrestling nobility in his own way, having christened another ship, will trot off to another part of the globe, will go off to fight elsewhere, and, as revealed post-match, will return to create a show of his own. 

PRODUCE, thus christened, still has a journey before itself. One match does not make a show. One show does not make a legacy. But at least the stage had been set.

And Darian Bengston? Even though he lost the match, he won something greater. The quote above wasn't about Hamlet winning anything. It was simply about him being heard. Was Bengston heard? Absolutely. Was he seen? Undeniably. He had his day here, and there's every reason to believe that his tomorrow will be brighter still.

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