"We have scorched the snake, not killed it." - How professional wrestling can channel Shakespeare

Macbeth stands before a banquet table. He has won. His enemies have been defeated and he is the King of Scotland. He raises his eyes and begins to speak, but all he sees is the ghost of his dead friend, murdered on his own command.

Tommaso Ciampa stands in the middle of a wrestling ring. He has won. His former best friend, turned hated rival, is gone forever. He raises his eyes and begins to speak, but all he sees is a sea of ghostly faces, each one a reminder of the friend he betrayed.

 

Shakespeare’s Macbeth is genuinely unsettling in its depiction of a man being torn apart by his own ambition. The banquet scene is, in many ways, the most disturbing moment of all. It's at this point that the full extent of Macbeth's consuming paranoia becomes apparent. 
By this point in the play, Macbeth is not only a successful general, but also, thanks to the cold-blooded regicide that his wife encouraged him to commit, the King of Scotland. By all rights this ought to be a night of celebration for him. And yet he is incapable of enjoying the fruits of his victory. His sanity is beginning to unravel. 

Enter Tommaso Ciampa. He’s only 32, but his wild beard shows large streaks of grey, making him seem older. His eyes are like flint, and full of bitterness. As he strides into the middle of the ring, he’s met with a deafening chorus of boos. The crowd, often divided in their opinion, are unanimous in their hatred. He lifts the microphone to his lips. The crowd's boos reach a fever pitch, preemptively drowning out anything he was going to say. He lowers the mic again without saying a word. It wasn't so long ago that the story was entirely different.

Reaching the Top
 
It's mid-2016. Ciampa is riding a wave of momentum alongside his tag team partner and best friend, Johnny Gargano, nicknamed 'Johnny Wrestling' for his seemingly limitless talent. Their genuine friendship and can-do spirit had captured the hearts of the fans. The sky was the limit for the duo. Their friendship looked in jeopardy when they were forced to fight each other in an epic clash in the first round of WWE's Cruiserweight Classic tournament, but far from driving a wedge between them, the fiercely competitive bout seemingly gave them new respect for each other. 

However, as with all great tragedies, if you look closely, the portents are there from the beginning, foreshadowing future disaster. At the start of the bout, Ciampa hesitates for a few seconds before shaking Johnny's hand. Then, at its emotional climax, he rolls down his kneepad to strike Gargano in the head with his exposed knee, a move which would surely have won him the match, but at the danger of causing serious and permanent damage to his friend. In the end, though, Ciampa can't do it. He bottles out and rolls his kneepad back up, which allows Gargano to recover and seize the win with a surprise pin. After the match, a victorious Johnny offers his hand to Ciampa in friendship, but Ciampa turns away and makes to leave the ring. Only after the crowd boos him does Ciampa stop, turn back, and sit down with his partner, before finally pulling him into an embrace. 

At the time, it seemed like touching show of comradeship and brotherly love, but in hindsight, the cracks were already beginning to show. The way in which the tragedy unfolds is almost Aristotelian in nature, following the rules set out in Poetics. It's at this point that we first see a flash of Ciampa's hamartia: the character flaw which will ultimately bring about the tragic events. The glimpse we get in this match of his crushing inferiority complex and jealousy is brief, but it is enough to see the foundation of the emotions which will drive him to betray his best friend. His reluctance to shake the hand of his friend both before and after the match suggests that, deep-down, he believes that Johnny is the better wrestler, but refuses to admit it, even to himself. The fact that his defeat was caused by his compassion for his friend must make things worse. Deep down, Ciampa sees himself as weak and inferior to his tag team partner, but he is unable to admit this to himself.

They soon formed an official tag team in NXT [1], calling themselves #DIY, which perfectly encapsulated their perpetual underdog status and willingness to take on any opponent. Soon, they had their sights set on the NXT tag-team championship.

Getting to the top of the mountain was a struggle. They received their first real opportunity in August 2016, at Takeover Brooklyn II, with a match for the tag titles. Their opponents were The Revival: a pair of southern brawlers who looked like villains from The Walking Dead, and use a combination of brute force and devious guile to overcome their opponents. For a time, it looked as though Ciampa and Gargano might do it, but they ultimately came up short thanks to the brutal teamwork of the Revival, who isolated Johnny and blew out his knee by jumping on it from the top rope. In the end, his face a picture of absolute agony, Gargano was forced to tap out. Post-match, the two sat side-by-side on the canvas in what would become a recurring image. Ciampa looks long and hard at Johnny, as though he wants to say something, but in the end, he helps his friend to his feet and supports him as he walks to the back. Halfway up the ramp, Johnny mouths the words "I'm sorry". Tommaso doesn't say anything, but he puts his arm around his friend and draws him in for a hug, as he did at the end of their Cruiserweight Classic match.  It seems that all is forgiven. But the final shot of the pair tells a different story. As Johnny walks ahead, Tommaso shoots him a quick, frustrated glance. It only flashes onto his face for a second, and perhaps no one noticed it at the time, but in hindsight, it's another crack in the perfect veneer. 

Success for the duo finally comes at NXT Takeover: Toronto, where they take on the Revival once again, this time in in a 2-out-of-3 falls match [2] which may well be one of the greatest tag matches in recent history, if not all time. Having fought each other before, both teams are able to anticipate each other's signature moves and counter them effectively. This allows the Revival to get the first fall, but when they try to repeat the kind of tricks which won them the last match, DIY are ready for them. Ciampa and Gargano score an equalising fall with their finisher, Meeting in the Middle, which involves crushing an opponent's head between a superkick from Gargano and a knee strike from Ciampa. Getting desperate, the Revival try to repeat the tactic which won them their last match: isolating Johnny and targeting his knee. But this time, Johnny is able to turn things around and eventually he and Tommaso make both members of the Revival tap out simultaneously. The day is theirs. The foe has been conquered. Ciampa and Gargano collapse into their familiar positions, seated side-by-side in the ring, but now clutching the NXT tag team titles. Ciampa holds Johnny's head and embraces him, but this time it's in celebration, not commiseration. They have done it. Johnny Gargano and Tomasso Ciampa have achieved their dreams.

Like Ciampa, fortune seems to be smiling on Macbeth at the start of the play. He's been victorious in battle, he has the favour of the king, and is granted the title of Thane of Cawdor. But he isn't satisfied. His ambition, fed by the witches' prophecy and his wife's goading, drives him to kill King Duncan and take the throne. But it's not the murder of the king which makes Macbeth and Ciampa so similar: it's Macbeth's the second murder, more shocking and black-hearted than the first. The witches told Macbeth that he would be king, but they also gave a prophecy to his close friend, Banquo. They told Banquo that he would be "less than Macbeth, yet happier, less successful, yet more" and that his descendants would be kings, not Macbeth's. Growing increasingly paranoid by this point, Macbeth believes that Banquo may be a threat to his throne. But more than that, he cannot handle the fact that his friend may ultimately be more successful than him. And so he does the unthinkable. He orders the murder of his brother-in-arms. 

Ciampa's reasons for his betrayal are similar. Like Macbeth, he isn't satisfied with his position. Like Macbeth, he constantly compares his own success to that of his friend, and is paranoid that he may be outshone. But in some ways, while the events of Macbeth are a close match for the shape of the narrative, the character of Tommaso Ciampa more closely resembles another of Shakespeare's villains: Iago, from Othello. Both are bitter, hollow shells of men who often seem to act out of nothing more than pure hatred for the world. But unlike Iago, whose misanthropy is fully formed by the start of the play, we get to see Ciampa's transformation from steely-eyed fan-favourite to implacable villain. 

 
The Betrayal


It all begins with DIY's inevitable fall from grace. They're defending their newly won titles at NXT Takeover: San Antonio against The Authors of Pain, a pair of colossal wrestlers who dress like mercenaries and speak only in guttural barks of a foreign language. Their manager, Paul Ellering, seems to have a quasi-mystical control over them.  The size difference works against DIY throughout the match, but they use teamwork effectively to chop the bigger men down to size. In the end, however, even the plucky determination of Ciampa and Gargano isn't enough to overcome the AoP, and they lose the match. It isn't anyone's fault. No one makes a crucial error. They simply aren't able to do enough to keep the two giants down.

They get a chance to reclaim their titles at NXT Takeover: Orlando in a match pitting them against both of their hated rivals -- the Revival and the AoP -- at once in an elimination match. Out of necessity, DIY form an uneasy alliance with the Revival and together they succeed in putting one of the Authors of Pain through a table. It's significant that one the members of the Revival even teams up with Johnny to hit Meeting in the Middle. But, inevitably, the temporary ceasefire soon collapses and, in the chaos, AoP pin DIY and eliminate them, before going on to win the match and retain their titles.

When they face AoP for one final time at NXT Takeover: Chicago, then, it really is the last chance for DIY to regain their titles. This time, it's a ladder match. Ciampa and Gargano put their bodies on the line for the championship. They hurl themselves out of the ring. They throw themselves off ladders, onto other ladders. They give the AoP everything that they've got. The emotional climax of the match comes when the AoP have Ciampa isolated, kneeling in the ring. They pick up a ladder and aim it at him end-on, looking to swing it directly into his head. At the last second, Gargano dives in front of his friend and takes the shot instead. The ladder catches him full-force on the jaw and sends him flying backwards. He sprawls on the mat, seemingly unconscious. From there on out, it's mostly academic. There are a few more glimmers of opportunity for DIY, but it is the AoP who climb the ladders and retrieve the belts.

After the match, the camera lingers on a despondent Gargano and Ciampa. They comfort each other in the now familar manner, Ciampa with his arm around Johnny's head in an embrace. It's a disappointment, but all is not lost. They are still loved. The crowd are chanting "DIY". The credits begin to roll.

Then it happens. Ciampa tightens his grip on Johnny's head, wheels round, and flings him into the electronic display board. A wave of shock rushes audibily through the crowd, followed by a chorus of pure vitriol as they realise what's going on. What follows is a cold, brutal, prolonged attack. Like Macbeth's assassination of Banquo, it is not a rage-filled massacre, it is a ruthless, dispassionate elimination of a friend. In a chilling throwback to their Cruiserweight Classic match, Ciampa rolls down his kneepad and hits Johnny with a brutal strike from his exposed knee. His eyes glazed, Johnny crawls weakly over to where Ciampa is sitting and rests his head in his lap, in a heartbreaking imitation of their customary post-match embrace. Ciampa turns his head away in disgust. "Fuck you, Ciampa", chant the crowd. He picks Johnny up and stands on the announce table, then hits the killing blow: a belly-to-back driver off the table and the stage, into the production area below. The final shot is Ciampa staring down at the seemingly lifeless body of Gargano below.

The next week, Ciampa comes out into the ring to explain himself. The crowd hurl abuse at him. He's on crutches. He explains that he's injured. He felt his knee pop during the ladder match and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to wrestle again for a while. And he knew that, while he recovered, he would be replaced. Johnny would find a new partner. Someone else would become the crowd's new favourite. So he decided to act. Like Macbeth, Ciampa couldn't handle the fact that his brother-in-arms might be more successful than him. He couldn't face the thought of irrelevancy, that he might be an insignificant part of something greater. It's clear that Ciampa has had these thoughts at the back of his mind ever since the Cruiserweight Classic, and that events have only exacerbated them. When Johnny teamed up with the Revival to thunderous applause, every time Johnny stole the limelight and every time the crowd cheered Johnny over him: Ciampa's jealousy and fear of irrelevancy grew. What Macbeth and Ciampa both fear most is being left as a footnote of history. It is this which drives them to do the unthinkable and betray their closest friends. 

But there is something about Ciampa's explanation which doesn't quite ring true, which doesn't quite justify the shocking extent of his brutal assault on Gargano. In some ways, Ciampa is more Iago than Macbeth. There's a possibility that the 'Psycho Killer' may always have had a black heart, hidden deep within his core. What if Ciampa wasn't twisted by jealousy? Perhaps he simply showed his true nature for the first time.


Downfall

Without his tag team partner, Johnny's success begins to run dry. Ciampa may be absent, but his ghost still haunts Johnny. He fights the smarmy-but-talented Mexican playboy, Andrade "Cien" Almas at Takeover: Brooklyn, but loses when Almas' manager, Zelina Vega, throws a DIY t-shirt into the ring. Johnny stares at it, and suddenly he is million miles away. He barely even notices as Almas hits him with a thunderous kick and picks up the win. He fights Almas, who is now NXT champion, again at Takeover Philadelphia, in a match for the title. During the match, he throws all of his offence at Almas, including his half of Meeting in the Middle, DIY's finishing move, but Almas kicks out of everything. Without his friend, Johnny just can't get it done, it seems. Johnny's wife, Candace leRae (herself an accomplished wrestler) deals with Zelina, to prevent a repeat of the incident from their last outing, but it isn't quite enough. The match is widely regarded as a modern classic, but again Johnny comes up short. 

After the match, Ciampa appears from the crowd and beats Johnny senseless with his crutch. His assassination of his friend may be longer than Macbeth's, but it is just as effective.

 A frustrated Johnny appears a few weeks later, and demands a rematch. Almas goads him, saying that he'll give him one if Johnny agrees to leave NXT if he loses. Johnny, determined to break the curse that Ciampa's betrayal seems to have put on him, accepts. The next week, the gravity of his wager sinks in. This is do or die. Their match is another nail-biting contest between two evenly matched opponents. Finally, it seems as though Johnny may have got the better of Almas as he locks in his submission finisher. Almas has nowhere to go. Candace has driven off Zelina. But the referee is out, knocked down accidentally by Almas. So he doesn't see Ciampa enter the ring, lift his crutch in the air, and bring it down hard across Johnny's back. But he's up in time to see Almas pinning Johnny, having taken advantage of Ciampa's attack and hit his trademark hammerlock-DDT. The bell sounds. Johnny must leave NXT.

Ciampa has killed Johnny Wrestling. 

 
A few weeks later, Ciampa comes out to gloat. Normally, the arrival of a wrestler on their way to the ring is heralded by their theme music, which gets the crowd fired up and in the right mood. Ciampa has no such music. Instead, he's accompanied to the ring by a constant torrent of boos from the crowd, united in their hatred of the man who betrayed their hero. "Asshole", some of them chant. At first, Ciampa seems unfazed. In fact, he almost seems to relish the destain of the audience.  As he reaches the the middle of the ring and raises the microphone to his lips, the crowd's boos drown him out, and he lowers it again. Soon, a new chant begins to emerge. "Johnny Wrestling", the fans begin to shout, in unison. "Johnny Wrestling, Johnny Wrestling."  Ciampa's demeanour shifts almost immediately. He was content to let the crowd despise him: at least he was the centre of attention, not his erstwhile best-friend. But now all the crowd will talk about his Johnny. All he sees in the crowd are signs bearing a winking face, Johnny Wrestling's symbol. Johnny is gone, but his presence is stronger than ever. In this moment, like Macbeth, Ciampa realises that he will never be free of his past. Here, it is the audience who play the part of Banquo's ghost, each voice and each sign a mocking reminder that he will never be as successful as his friend. He drops the microphone and leaves the ring. As he does, a fan thrusts a Johnny Gargano sign in his face. Ciampa snatches it away, ripping it up savagely, as though the monochrome face on it is Johnny himself. He walks backstage without ever saying a word, but his body language tells the whole story. This should be his hour of triumph, but he knows that he has lost. Even in defeat, Johnny has won. Johnny Wrestling is still very much alive.

1 NXT is officially the 'developmental' division of the WWE. That used to mean that it was purely a training ground for novice wrestlers. While that's still partly the case, the recent burgeoning of "independent wrestling" outside WWE's hegemony means that NXT has started to recruit a lot of veteran wrestlers who became famous on the independent scene. (If you're not a wrestling fan, think of it sort-of like internet-famous indie musicians signing with a big record label.) This new breed of veterans, of which both Gargano and Ciampa are a part, often spend some time in NXT alongside the real rookies. Not only does this allow them chance to adapt to WWE's particular style of wrestling, it also lets the trainees work with some real masters of the craft and hopefully learn a thing or two. 

2 In a normal wrestling matches, one pin or submission is enough to win the match; in a 2-out-3 falls, it's a best of three.

Filling in the Blanks - Akira Hokuto vs. Shinobu Kandori - AJW Dream Slam I

Most adult wrestling fans grew up watching wrestling. I did not. I watched my first match three years ago, aged 20. In an attempt to catch-up on what I've missed, I'm making a list of all the interesting matches I hear about, then watching them one by one and recording my thoughts. So without further ado, let's dive into another random match from wrestling history. Please try to forgive my ignorance as I try to 'fill in the blanks'.

 AJW Dream Slam I - 2nd April 1993 - Akira Hokuto vs. Shinobu Kandori

Intro

I don't know about you, but I often get sucked into the black hole that is the wrestling part of Wikipedia. Sometimes it takes me hours to re-emerge. There's something about such a meticulously curated list of title reigns, entrance themes and signature moves which really appeals to me. I love looking at the evolution of wrestlers, especially their movesets. (Who knew that Dean Ambrose's finisher in FCW used to be an over-the-shoulder belly-to-back piledriver (AKA White Noise)? Not me, until I trawled his Wikipedia page. 

Sometimes, in the course of my epic internet voyages, I end up looking at the pages of Japanese female wrestlers (AKA joshi wrestlers) from the 90s. I usually know very little about them, though I've often heard the names. When it comes to their movesets, however, one word stands out as being remarkably common: "innovated". It's the term used on Wikipedia to indicate that a certain move is believed to have been invented by the performer in question, and it crops up everywhere on the pages of joshi wrestlers. If you think of a dangerous-looking move that an indie wrestler with a pair of kickpads and a name like 'Joey Dragon' would do 20 times in a match, chances are that it was invented in the 80s or 90s by a 20-something Japanese lady. The Death Valley Driver? Invented by Etsuko Mita. The Burning Hammer? Kyoko Inoue. The Vertebreaker? Megumi Kudo. Baby Dean Ambrose's FCW finisher? That was Mariko Yoshida's Air Raid Crash. Even, the goddamn Jackhammer, a move now so synonymous with Goldberg that anyone else using it is seen as a sign of immense disrepect (just look at Ryback), was originally invented by Jaguar Yokota in the 1980s. (And I'm willing to bet a lot of money that Goldberg didn't have to get her permission before he used it...) As for Akira Hokuto, one of the wrestlers in this match, she invented the Northern Lights Bomb (perhaps better known as Al Snow's Snow Plow in the US), as well as the Gutwrench Sit-out Powerbomb, which Kenny Omega uses these days. 

It was discovering how many moves were invented by Japanese women which first made me sit up and take notice of joshi wrestling. Then, fairly recently, I watched my first joshi match: Manami Toyota vs. Aja Kong. I was blown away. It was quite a revelation to me, because the WWE version of history is that women's wrestling only started properly in 2015, beyond a few isolated matches and performers like Trish and Lita. Yet here was evidence of women having a huge yet unappreciated impact on the wrestling business, some 30 years before the "Divas Revolution" was even a twinkle in Stephanie McMahon's eye. 

It was only when I did some more digging into the history of women's wrestling that I realised what a phenomenon joshi wrestling was in the mid-90s, and how the then-WWF's completely failed to capitalise on it. True, the WWF did import a lot of female Japanese talent in the mid-90s, but the whole division was built around a single woman: Alundra Blayze. As talented as Blayze was, when she left suddenly and dramatically for WCW in 1995, the 'division' naturally collapsed into nothing, as no-one other than Blayze had anything resembling a character. Rather than actually trying to revive the women's division with a fresh injection of talent, the WWF just let the whole thing drop, and thus began the transition into the Attitude Era, where women, even if they wrestled, were simply treated as sex objects, an appraoch which continued well into the 2010s, and the effects of which are still all too visible. The WWF presumably thought that sex was a better marketing tool than good wrestling. Were they right? The immense popularity of the WWF during the Attitude Era suggests that they were, although from my own experience, the crowd reactions to the women's matches in 1993-94 were pretty great. What if the sexualisation of women in WWE coming at the same time success of the Attitude Era was a coincidence? There's nothing about the edgy punk-rock 'attitude' of the late-90s WWF that would have made it incompatible with good women's wrestling. Just look at the excellent all-female UK promotion, Pro-Wrestling EVE, which has that same chaotic feel to it, but with a thoroughly inclusive, progressive feminist mindset. 

Anyway, I digress. This isn't an article about women's wrestling in the West: it's about a legendary match from Japan in 1993, when joshi wrestling was a big deal. And I mean a BIG deal. A year later, in December 1994, the same all-female promotion, AJW, would hold a show called Big Egg Universe in the Tokyo Dome, which drew a crowd of 30 - 40,000, a higher attendance than many early WrestleManias. I'll admit I don't know that much about either woman in this match; despite being interested in it, I'm still very much a novice when it comes to joshi. So let's cut to the chase and dive straight in. 

The match

One thing I've learnt recently is that there is a lot of filler in 90s Japanese PPVs. The running time of Dream Slam I is an eye-watering SIX AND A HALF HOURS, and 80% of that seems to be stony-faced interviews in front of bland backgrounds, of which I can understand exactly nothing. Akira Hokuto looks bloody terrifying though in her giant wig and... wait, has she stolen Jim Cornette's tennis racket? Oh, no, it's a sword. That's badass. Shinobu Kandori looks much more normal, but in an equally intimidating way. Now they're both in the ring, and Hokuto is wearing a ferocious noh mask from traditional Japanese theatre, kneeling with her sword pointing into the ground. She looks like a demon samurai and I'm slightly in love. Sadly she has to take her awesome entrance gear off, and suddenly she looks about half the size she did before.

The bell rings, and the two women circle each other like hungry wolves. This feels big already. Suddenly Hokuto lunges and hits an incredibly stiff elbow to Kandori's head. She collapses, and Hokuto grabs a mic, launching into a tirade of angry Japanese. It's utterly terrifying and I fully believe that she's the "Dangerous Queen" that the commentary team claim her to be, in the only two words of English that I can make out. On the topic of the commentary, I can't understand it at all, so I don't know how good it is, but I notice that there's at least one woman on the announce team, which is refreshing to hear. 

Kandori is pissed, and fires back with palm strikes. Then, out of nowhere, she catches Hokuto in a Fujiwara armbar, which I believe is her finisher. She wrenches back on it so hard that it looks as though Hokuto's arm is broken. Hokuto is screaming in pure agony. When Kandori finally lets go, Hokuto can barely move her arm and holds it at a horribly unnatural angle. She rolls to the outside, still screaming in pain, and instantly she's surrounded by a team of medical officials, who spray what looks like deep heat on it (which is a nice touch). I may not know anything about these characters or be able to understand a word of the commentary, but instantly the face/heel dynamic is established. I initially thought that Hokuto would be the heel, what with her demonic entrance gear and shouty promo, but her masterful selling of her arm instantly sets her up as the 'face in peril'. 

Finally she crawls back into the ring, but Kandori just stomps her right back out again. Is there count-out in this match? I'm not sure, but I'm guessing it's no-DQ, as they're gone from the ring for quite some time at points. Hokuto brushes off the medical team and yells what I'm going to assume is something like "piss off" at them. When she gets back into the ring, Kandori just starts to beat the shit out of her, but she responds with strikes of her own. This is strong-style alright. I'm not a massive fan of pure, strike-heavy strong-style matches, I must say. I watched the Shibata/Ishii match that Metlzer gave 5*s to (as he did to this match, in fact), and I didn't particularly enjoy it. I was just worried that they'd actually cause serious injury to each other or themselves (as indeed would happen with Shibata's tragic accident last year, which makes me even less able to enjoy full-force strikes). I love a nice, snug match now and then (as evidenced by my fondness for Vader), but there's a reason I don't enjoy MMA. I want to know that the participants are keeping each other safe and not actually trying to inflict lasting damage, even if they do inflict some real pain. This looks incredibly realistic, but in doing so is coming rather close to a real fight for my tastes and I'm struggling to enjoy it at this point.

After some more brawling, Kandori goes to the outside. Hokuto looks as though she'll attempt an asai moonsault, but Kandori hits a clothesline to the back of her head to send her back into the ring. OUCH. Kandori follows up with a body slam and tries for the armbar again, but this time Hokuto is ready for it, and determined not to let her lock it in, keeping her hands locked together. Kandori settles for a Kimura (I think - or it might have been a keylock: I'm not too good on differentiating the numerous arm-based submissions). Hokuto reaches the ropes though, and uses the break to slap on an armbar of her own, but Kandori gets out of it.

They brawl to the outside, and vault the barricade onto the announce table. Hokuto hoists Kandori up for a tombstone... but wait! Kandori gets a sweet version of the classic 'Taker/Kane reversal and then... JESUS CHRIST. She just drops Hokuto hard onto the table, which doesn't give an inch. Hokuto's eyes are glazed as she rolls onto the floor. The camera focusses in on the table and THERE'S A GODDAMN  DENT IN IT. HOLY SHIT. I presume that was some kind of rigged table, but I realise I don't want to know, and nor do I care. It's incredibly effective. Kandori heads back to the ring and gets... cheered?! I'm not sure I'm quite in sync with the crowd here. I'm very much behind Hokuto. Kandori is a bully. I want to see her get taken down. 

The camera goes back to Hokuto who is surrounded by her medical team, and HOLY SHIT THAT IS A LOT OF BLOOD. (The smark inside me wonders if it was the 'medical team' who did the blade job. If so, that's really clever.) She is a bloody mess almost instantly. I might have to turn this one off fullscreen, as I'm not particularly great with close-ups of lots of blood. I get a bit squeamish. (And yet Mick Foley is one of my favourite wrestlers. Go figure...)

Back in the ring, and Kandori takes over with ruthless kicks to the head of her bloodied opponent, but eventually Hokuto hits a clothesline and gets Kandori to the outside, this time in control. They head into the audience, who crowd round them rabidly. The camera crew can't get past to keep up, which feels wonderfully chaotic. The few shots we're able to see show that Hokuto has gone full Muta. With her grisly crimson mask, her face now resembles the demonic visage from her entrance gear, only this time there's no costume. She's not dressed as a demon now: she is the demon. 

The camera cuts to a long shot and we can just see the crowd swirling round a central point where I can only assume the two wrestlers are fighting. Eventually they tumble back through the barricade and we see that Kandori is bleeding now, though nowhere near as profusely as Hokuto, presumably from having her head banged against the railings. Both can barely stand. I check the time and it's only been 10 minutes since the start of the match. Shit. I'm not sure I can last another 20. It's so intense.

They get back in the ring, and Hokuto hits repeated big boots. I'm not sure there's been more than two actual wrestling moves yet: just stiff strikes. I appreciate the story they're telling in such a masterful way, but I'm beginning to wonder if this match is for me. It's hard to watch.

After some more stomping, Kandori goes for what looks like it'll be a suplex onto the ropes, but she just dumps Hokuto straight to the outside face first, over the top rope. Jesus. She follows it up with a slingshot plancha which destroys Hokuto. There's blood EVERYWHERE. 

After they make it back to the ring, Kandori attempts a back suplex. Hokuto tries to struggle out of it, but Kandori just uses brute force and hits it anyway. The details like that in this match are what's making it feel like a real fight, I think. There's something of Bret Hart in the way that both women are adding little touches to make you believe in what they're doing. 

Suddenly Kandori goes back to the Fujiwara armbar, but again Hokuto is ready for her, and resists it, so Kandori transitions into a crossface chickenwing. I like this mini story that's developing: Kandori keeps going for her deadly, match-ending armbar, but Hokuto blocks every attempt to lock it in, so she keeps switching to less effective submissions in order to surprise Hokuto and maintain control. 

Hokuto slaps Kandori hard, then DRILLS her with a brutal snap piledriver, which is presumably revenge for the Tombstone onto the table. Not content with trying to kill Kandori once, she then follows this up with one of the most vicious spin kicks I've ever seen. Kandori just collapses onto the ropes and I'm not sure if she's selling or genuinely out cold. It's incredible. Hokuto tries for another but whiffs it, and Kandori grabs the leg for a submission, but has to break on the ropes. 

She follows up with repeated strikes and gets a DDT for the first cover of the match (I think), but Hokuto kicks out. Kandori's real plan is revealed, however, when she immediately clamps Hokuto in a headscissors and looks to grab her arm for the armbar. Maybe the pin was just a way to get into position. Clever stuff. Hokuto locks her fingers again though. The expressions of both wrestlers tells me that if she unlaced them and Kandori were able to lock in the hold, Hokuto would tap immediately. After my hesitation earlier, I'm hooked in by the incredible storytelling and I realise I'm on the edge of my seat.

Hokuto transitions into a Single Leg Boston Crab, and Kandori rolls it through for one of her own, but there's a rope break. Hokuto looks knackered, but fires back with a snap suplex. She barely gets a two count. She has a huge mountain to climb if she's going to beat her opponent, whereas Kandori looks as though she could seize victory at any moment.

Hokuto hits a body slam and climbs to the top for a picture perfect splash, leaping halfway across the ring. Kandori sells perfectly, clutching her ribs and gasping for air. Hokuto heads up to the opposite turnbuckle for another splash, but this time Kandori gets her knees up, and it's Hokuto's turn to sell equally perfectly. Kandori gets to her feet and hits a magnificent deadlift powerbomb, hoisting Hokuto high up into the air and slamming her down into a prawn hold cover. Textbook stuff. Miraculously, Hokuto is out at 2. Kandori heads up to the top for a crossbody, but it's too far and Hokuto swats her away, before hitting a German Suplex with a lovely bridge. Kandori literally struggles out before the 3, in another beautiful little detail. Both women are covered in blood: their own and each other's. 

Hokuto climbs to the top again, this time perhaps looking for a moonsault, but Kandori  snatches her off into a sleeper and ragdolls her! It looks so cool. Hokuto escapes briefly, but Kandori just locks it back on, this time with bodyscissors. The crowd chant for Hokuto and this time I'm right there with them. Hokuto gets so close to the ropes, and there's an agonising delay before she finally touches them with her fingertips. She looks to be out cold, and the ref slaps her full force on the back several times. Dude. Was that necessary? Presumably it was to check if she was responsive. She doesn't look conscious to me, but the ref is obviously satisfied, and the match continues.

Hokuto comes to. She just grabs a handful of Kandori's hair and won't let go, as if it's the only thing she can do. Kandori lifts her for another powerbomb, but this time Hokuto manages to reverse it with a beautiful headscissors takedown (a move I love that I've only seen in older matches, perhaps being replaced with the hurricanrana in modern wrestling). Hokuto sandbags an Irish whip and then hits her own version of Kandori's powerbomb! She doesn't get Kandori up as high as Kandori was able to get her, which both sells her injuries and makes the move look even more brutal somehow, as she just drops Kandori on her neck. A prawn hold gets Hokuto a good near fall. She's getting closer.

She follows up with a spin kick and Kandori falls back through the ropes. Hokuto leaps onto the top rope, then BALANCES THERE FOR LIKE A WHOLE SECOND, BEFORE HITTING A CANNONBALL TO THE OUTSIDE. HOOLLLYYY SHIIITTT. Sorry for the sudden profusion of capslock, but this is incredible. JR's iconic call of "somebody stop the damn match" gets overused these days, but it's applicable here. Both women are down on the outside, just screaming, and it doesn't feel like over-selling in the slightest. 

Kandori struggles to her feet and back towards the apron, and I'm expecting things to calm down but then HOLY SHIT THAT'S HOKUTO OUT OF NOWHERE WITH A GODDAMN FRONT MISSILE DROPKICK FROM THE TOP ROPE TO THE OUTSIDE. She flies like a javelin, hitting Kandori square in the chest, and both women collapse. What a bump.

Now we get the change in pace, as seemingly hundreds of medical officials check on both women. Japanese ringsides always look so busy: there are so many people milling around, even during a match. I realise that here, each woman has her own support team, like in a boxing match, which makes this seem even more like a real fight. 

Eventually they get back in the ring. Hokuto calls for something (presumably her finisher, the Northern Lights Bomb) and the crowd pops. This is a fatal error though as it allows Kandori to slap on the armbar, and this time Hokuto isn't ready for it! She literally flops around the ring like a fish out of water, desperately trying to break the hold, but risking serious damage to her arm at the same time. Fortunately, her flapping propels both women to the ropes. I'm on the edge of my seat. I don't want Hokuto to tap. Why isn't the referee breaking this up?! Come on, ref! Finally he forces the break and the two collapse.

Kandori is up first and drags Hokuto up in a double underhook... but it's a ruse to allow her to slip on the armbar again without Hokuto being able to prepare for it! You don't often see feints in wrestling, and that was a wonderful one. Hokuto manages to struggle out though, so Kandori goes back to the double underhook and this time uses it to hit a sublime Tiger Driver, with huge air-time on it. ...But Hokuto kicks out! The crowd is electric. 

Kandori hits running strikes, but Hokuto won't stay down. On the third attempt, Hokuto reverses into an amazing bridging back suplex kind of thing, with her head under Kandori's arm. I don't really know what to call it, other than 'beautiful'. Kandori kicks out, which whips the crowd into a frenzy.

Just as they reach fever pitch, Hokuto calls for the Northern Lights Bomb again, lifts Kandori up, and this time she hits it! It looks utterly devastating. That's surely it. 1,2... KICK OUT. ...Barely. It's more of a 'flop out', as Kandori uses her last ounce of strength to slide out of the pin. Hokuto can't believe it. She hoists Kandori to her feet and calls for another Nothern Lights Bomb, but this time Kandori is ready for it and reverses it into a Northern Lights Bomb of her own! I love it when wrestlers steal each other's finishers, and this is a perfect example, with spot-on psychology. Kandori covers... but Hokuto kicks out! HOW? The arena is filled with a chant of "Hokuto". It would be loud by the standards of American crowds, let alone Japanese audiences, who often keep a respectful silence. 

Both women stagger to their feet. Hokuto lunges forward with a punch and both women collapse. Back up again. Kandori hits a punch. Both women go down. Back up again. Both women go for a punch, but Hokuto gets there first and hits Kandori with all of her remaining strength. Both women go down. But only Hokuto is able to use her final reserves of energy to literally drag herself over Kandori for a cover of sorts. It's not even the one-armed 'desperation cover' of WWE: she just crawls on top of Kandori, like she's using her own body as dead weight to keep Kandori down. 1, 2, 3. That's it. The bell rings. Kandori looks out. Neither woman moves. Hokuto got the pin off one punch, but the fact that it doesn't feel like an anti-climax is testament to the hell that both wrestlers have put each other through. I feel as drained as both women look.

Eventually Kandori staggers to her feet and is helped to the back. She looks pissed. Hokuto can't even manage to stand. She just sits where she is in the ring and someone hands her a mic. She starts to speak, blood cascading down her face. If you want an iconic image, there it is. I have no idea what she's saying, but she screams it at the top of her lungs with passion and violence. It's visceral and unsettling, and one of the most effective post-match promos I've ever seen, despite me not understanding a word of it. Eventually she finishes her tirade and collapses, before lurching to her feet again in triumph, staggering unsteadily around the ring, supported by her crew. I can't help but feel that I've witnessed a real, literal war between two forces of nature. I need a lie down.

Concluding thoughts: Hoo boy. This one is not an easy watch, but I think it might be one of the best matches I've ever seen. This is wrestling as violent, passionate art. This is Bret vs. Austin at WrestleMania 13. Great films don't have to be fun to be great. (Hell, you can personally hate a film, and still think it's a great piece of art.) Wrestling matches should be the same, if we want them to be considered as art. I enjoyed this match in the end, but I'm not sure it could be called 'fun'. It's grim and unrelenting, and for a good third of the match, I thought I hated it. But once both wrestlers started busting out actual moves (I do think the brawl at the beginning might be a smidge too long), I was hooked. Its genius is not in its technical prowess (though both women pull off some amazing moves), nor in its endless innovation (though some of the transitions look incredible): the real triumph is the story, and the way it remorselessly hits you with raw emotion like a gut-punch. Even if you don't speak a word of Japanese, the narrative stands out crystal clear, with all its many details. You don't need words to understand Akira Hokuto's struggle to overcome her opponent. Her flawless selling tells you everything you need to know. Sometimes, when you're watching a match, it's hard to forget that wrestling is fake. In this match it's hard to remember that it isn't real. I had to keep reminding myself that these were performers, playing characters, pretending to drag each other to the brink of death. They are utterly convincing. I'll definitely seek out more matches from these two, especially Akira Hokuto, who I thought gave one of the best performances I've ever seen in a match.

This commitment to telling a believable story is what makes the best joshi wrestlers so special, not any number of GIFs of spectacular spots on Twitter captioned "Japanese women be crazy". WWE would do well to remember that when they repeatedly fail to tell compelling stories in their women's divisions. If wrestling is ever going to be accepted as a true art form, it will be because of matches like this. If female wrestlers are ever to be held in the same regard as male wrestlers, it will be because they are given the chance to have matches like this. 

Verdict: Watch this match. Nothing else I've seen is quite like it.

Filling in the Blanks - Bret Hart vs. The British Bulldog - WWF In Your House 5

Most adult wrestling fans grew up watching wrestling. I did not. I watched my first match three years ago, aged 20. In an attempt to catch-up on what I've missed, I'm making a list of all the interesting matches I hear about, then watching them one by one and recording my thoughts. So without further ado, let's dive into another random match from wrestling history. Please try to forgive my ignorance as I try to 'fill in the blanks'...

 

In Your House 5 (Seasons Beatings) - 17th December 1995 - Hershey, Pennsylvania

I'm always fascinated by the lows of wrestling as much as the highs, and for many, there's no lower low than the WWF in 1995. The likes of Diesel and Mabel dominated the main event scene while more capable workers were often saddled with cartoon gimmicks or restricted to the midcard. It's refreshing to see, however, that even in a year as legendarily awful as 1995, there are some gems to be found on WWF PPVs, especially towards the end. I'll admit that I'm not going into this one completely blind, as I've been listening to the excellent New Generation Project Podcast (seriously, go and listen to it) who cover all the WWF PPVs of 1995, including this one. I've been making a note of any matches which interested me, and it seems as though there are some real hidden gems in the early In Your Houses. So far I've watched an excellent match between the highly underrated Hakushi and Bret Hart from In Your House 1, as well as a surprisingly compelling encounter between Bret and Jean-Pierre Lafitte (AKA Quebecer Pierre), and a stellar bout between Shawn Michaels and Jeff Jarrett (ain't he great?). Today's offering is from the fifth In Your House: Bret Hart vs. Manchester's own British Bulldog. 

You may have noticed that three out of four of these 'In Your House highlights' involve Bret Hart. This wasn't intentional on my part, but nor is it a coincidence. In terms of pure in-ring work, Bret may be one of my favourite wrestlers, even though I've only started watching his matches fairly recently. He throws in so many little details which make his matches more compelling, and everything he does just looks so smooth, but in a way that's somehow also realistic and impactful. I'm a big fan. I've not encountered much of the British Bulldog's work before, but I've liked him in the few matches I've seen him in. Plus he's British, and his northern accent sounds comedically out of place in the 90s WWF world of hyper-American jocks. That makes him okay in my book.

The first thing I notice is that Bulldog has short hair. Didn't he used to have weird braids? He looks much better like this. The second thing I notice is that the pen from the infamous Arkansas Hog Pen match is still very much there, and what's more, the pigs are still running around in it. They've got prime seats at a WWF PPV and they don't seem at all bothered. Ungrateful swine. (I might have to go back and watch that match. I've heard it's actually better than it sounds. Plus, I'm a sucker for a weird gimmick match.)

Bret's out next and he looks so damn cool, even in 2018. I love his jacket, and also his music is fantastic. It's everything a wrestling theme should be. Cornette's Christmassy tennis racket cover steals the show though. Incredible. 

The match starts with lock ups, but each time Bulldog pushes Bret away with ease. Bret's little glance to the side after the second one is the kind of touch which makes him so compelling -- it's the look of a man who's realised that he underestimated his opponent's strength,  and is having to devise a new strategy.

They do some mat wrestling, and I'm impressed by how smooth Bulldog is for his size. After some rapid transitions, he lands a beautiful kip-up with ease. On commentary, Vince makes an interesting and unusually perceptive comment about Bret changing his style to suit his opponent, and 'always getting the best out of them. "The best"? As in has 'the best match' with them? Surely that comes rather close to exposing the business? Or was it just a poorly phrased slip of the tongue?

This taking place close to Philly, we get some EC-dub chants. It seems not everyone is a fan of the action in the ring, which is a shame, because it's very good. There's a lovely sequence where Bret slides out of the ring, back in, and then goes right into an inverted atomic drop. It's picture-perfect.

Bulldog gets Bret up on his shoulder... but them just puts him in the tree of woe. Why didn't he go for the running powerslam? You know your match has a big logical flaw in it when even Vince points it out on commentary... Bulldog hits the ref, but then... helps him up!? Was that a GENUINE REF BUMP?! I'm confused. "He is so powerful", says Vince, somewhat longingly, of Bulldog , obviously struggling to contain himself.

Bret attempts a crucifix but hangs for what seems like an age before Bulldog drops him backwards. Lovely stuff. Nice leg drop by Bulldog, but then he clamps on a chinlock for a bit. Cornette manages to get in a shot with his tennis racket when Bret is near the ropes and his 'innocent face' afterwards is one of my favourite things. 

Bret hits his front-first turnbuckle bump which I pop for every time, even though he does it every match. They tease a three count, but Bret has his foot on the rope, and Cornette is apoplectic. Bulldog goes back to the chinlock and we get a shot of Diana Hart, who's doing her best to look concerned. Her resulting expression unfortunately reminds me of the "Jim never vomits at home" lady from Airplane more than anything else... 

Bret hits a (fantastic) bulldog. On Bulldog. This coincidence is not lost on Vince, who thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen (or at least since the last time he saw midget wrestling, I presume). I'm rather fond of commentary-Vince, despite how bad he is a lot of the time. He's endearingly dorky and buffoonish. 

Some great punches from Bret and then a sick piledriver, which Bulldog sells like he just died. He kicks out at 2 though. Bret goes for a superplex, but Bulldog crotches him HARD on the ropes. Ouch. I felt that one. Bret rolls out, but gets sent into the steps and then the ringpost. The camera cuts away for a bit, then returns and... oh God where did all that blood come from?! Bret's kneeling in a pool of it. I don't think of Bret as the type to blade, but boy does he go for it here. His face is a mess. I think I remember a story about this. Wasn't this at a time when blading was forbidden, and Bret had to claim he got accidentally busted open on the steps? Either way, his gamble paid off, because the ECW-loving crowd are suddenly 100% more interested in this match. They were never going to appreciate a mat-based technical classic, let's face it. 

Bulldog smartly takes control with a crunchy piledriver of his own (though not quite as nice as Bret's). Diana shoots for 'worried' but hits 'bored'. Bulldog hits his delayed suplex, which is a thing of beauty. "ONE, TWO... NEW CHAMPIO...no, almost a count of three". Never change, Vince. To be fair, I can't blame him as he's presumably bricking it at the thought of having to defend himself against irate television executives and sponsors, who were going to grill him for letting such a bloody match air. "We do not need any close-ups", he says, trying to limit the damage. The split-screen showing Diana Hart's reaction lingers for longer than necessary, almost missing a lovely press-slam from Bulldog, but avoiding a large close-up of Bret's gruesome visage. 

Bulldog heads to the top rope and hits a diving headbutt... to Bret's arse. A true head-butt.  Bulldog then pulls out a Bow and Arrow Hold, which I wasn't expecting, and to make things more surprising, Vince even calls it correctly! Bret tries for the Sharpshooter, but is too dazed. Wonderful selling. Then Bulldog full-on FLATTENS Bret with a shoulder block, sending him flying out of the ring. Bulldog looks like a beast. He tries to suplex Bret back in, but Bret slips behind and hits a sweet snap German for a two. There's a double clothesline, and Cornette does the classic heel manager thing of 'accidentally' rallying the crowd behind the face by banging the mat. He's so good at this.

Bulldog takes a sick bump to the outside when he misses a charge, and Bret follows it with a scrappy plancha and vicious fists. This has taken a turn for the brutal. Bret goes for a springboard flying-nothing, but Bulldog catches it into his running powerslam on the outside! Flushed with success, he rips up the protective matting, but Bret reverses his suplex to crotch him on the barricade and then clothesline him off.

Back inside, Bulldog takes an upside-down bump off a whip into the corner, which is crazy for a guy his size. I'm not a wrestler by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed super dangerous too... A superplex by Bret wipes them both out. Bulldog tries for a roll up and Bret reverses, but only gets a two. Was that the finish to the 1992 Wembley match? Vince implies as much on commentary. (I haven't seen that one by the way. It's on The List. I briefly thought I should have watched it before I watched this one, but then I also wanted to see whether this match stood up on its own. Spoiler: it does.) 

Stiff uppercuts in the corner by Bret. He gets a boot up on Bulldog's charge, which allows him to apply a La Magistral cradle for the win. It's a surprisingly tame finish for such a bloody, brutal match, but I think it tells a good story. In the end, Bret didn't beat Bulldog at his own violent game. Bret won by doing what he does best: out-wrestling his opponent. Bulldog tried to turn the match into a drag-out brawl, but Bret stood firm and waited for the opportunity to put his superior technical acumen to good use. 

Concluding thoughts: Unexpectedly great in many different ways. What starts out as an impressively fast-paced technical showcase soon turns into a wild brawl. The whole thing was expertly paced, with Bret starting to bleed just as the crowd were losing interest,  signifying a radical change in tone. Bulldog more than held his own here, and I'll definitely try to watch more matches of his, but I felt that this was really a showcase for Bret Hart's extraordinary ability to, as Vince himself observed, 'bring out the best in his opponent', and tell a captivating story in the ring. "Best there is, best there was, best there ever will be"? I'm not sure, but he's really damn good, that's for certain.

Verdict: An epic clash which feels like a real war. Definitely worth watching.
 

Filling in the Blanks - Sting vs. Vader - WCW Starrcade 1992

Most adult fans of wrestling grew up watching it as children, (even if they lapsed at some point, when they got self-conscious about watching scripted cuddles between oily, semi-naked men and women). I didn't. I watched my first wrestling match in 2015, aged 20. I've read a lot about the history of wrestling, but looking at words on a page isn't the same as actually experiencing the matches themselves first-hand. I have a lot of catching up to do. So every time someone mentions a interesting-sounding match that I haven't seen, it goes on The List. Then, when I have some free time, I pick a match and watch it. I thought it might be interesting to record some of my thoughts here. It's won't just be WWF/E either: I love the diversity that wrestling has to offer, so expect to see some WCW, old-school NWA, ECW, AJW, and even some World of Sport. My only criterion is that it has to have taken place before October 2015. So it's time to catch-up as catch can, and fill in the huge blanks in my knowledge of wrestling.

I know less about early-90s WCW than I do about early-90s WWE, and that's saying a lot. I've watched some of the cruiserweight matches from '96-'97, and I know a bit about the dying days of the promotion in the late 90s (because the terrible bits of wrestling fascinate me almost as much as the good bits), but anything in WCW before 1996 is a mystery to me. So I went into this match pretty much clueless.

Something I do know, however, from my limited experience of him in the WWF, is that I'm a big fan of Vader. Or Big Van Vader, as he's called here. It sounds cool, but I'm slightly confused. What's the 'Van' all about? Are they trying to imply that he's Dutch? Is he some relation of Van Morrison? Either way, he's still a badass, even with his weird bandana, which does admittedly make him look a bit as though he's somehow cosplaying as Hollywood Hulk Hogan three years early. Harley Race is there too, as the unnecessary manager. Vader bellows "TIME FOR WAARRR" on his way to the ring, and I remember why I love him so much. Every aspect of him is utterly believable in the role of the monster, from his brutal offence to his yelled, barely coherent promos. 

Sting is out next. My only experience of Sting comes from his appearance at WrestleMania 31 and an action figure of him wearing a weird silver breastplate that I had as a child, despite never having watched wrestling in my life (I just liked the cool figures). In other words, I only know Sting in his emo-phase. This was my first experience of Sting: the Surfer Dude with Attitude. I'm a big fan of the facepaint, but I don't really get the gimmick. Aren't surfers supposed to be laid back? Sting, with his knock-off Eye of the Tiger entrance music, seems anything but. He looks like he means business though.

The match starts with standard David vs. Goliath stuff (not that Sting is small by any stretch of the imagination, but pretty much everyone looks tiny next to Vader). I'm a big sucker for matches between wrestlers of unequal sizes. It's one of the most basic stories in wrestling - how can the little guy beat the big guy? - but I still find it one of the most compelling. There's a reason it's in the Bible. There's something timeless about it. Sting goes for punches on Vader, but he shrugs them off and yells "NO PAIN!". It's an effective (if unsubtle) way of getting the message across... I think more wrestlers should provide verbal feedback on their current physical condition. "SLIGHT TWINGE!" "MODERATE PAIN!" "ABSOLUTE AGONY!" "CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!" etc.

Vader fires back with some body slams and then a couple of awesome military presses onto the ropes. One of the things I love about Vader is how believable his offence looks. I don't need my wrestling to be realistic 100% of the time -- there's a reason I watch wrestling and not MMA -- but sometimes you just want to watch one human being beat the crap out of another. And Vader provides that in spades. One of my favourite matches of his, though it's by no means his best, is his encounter with the debuting Ken Shamrock at In Your House: A Cold Day in Hell in 1997. It's a real glimpse into how pro-wrestling works. Shamrock comes in all guns blazing, hitting legitimate MMA kicks to Vader. At one point Vader, the same guy who once popped his own goddamn eye back into its goddamn socket during a match, yells "ease up", which gives some indication of how hard Shamrock was kicking him. Eventually Vader gets fed up and lamps Shamrock as hard as he can with one of the stiffest lariats in history. The whole match looks absolutely brutal, and shows how adept experienced wrestlers normally are at avoiding injuring their opponent. 

Anyway, Vader brings plenty of that stiff offence here against Sting, hitting him with clotheslines which look as though they'd decapitate a normal human being. Sting retaliates though, with a rolling koppo kick no less! (Like wot that Tyler Bate chap does nowadays.) I'd always assumed that Sting was like Hulk Hogan: beloved because of his amazing charisma, but with limited technical ability. But I'm impressed by some of Sting's moves here. He hits a nice german suplex (even more impressive considering Vader's size) and then follows with a slingshot plancha! Admittedly I don't think he gets all of it, but Vader sells it generously. 

By this point, Vader's mask has come off, and I wonder: is there actually a match where Vader's mask doesn't come off? It seems to be attached with blu-tack and sellotape. Underneath, Vader has possibly the weirdest haircut in wrestling, looking like a half-shaved bear. I think it kind of suits his character though. It looks as though he's taken a razor to to his own head, possibly without the aid of a mirror, and just gone to town on his hair. He looks unhinged.

Sting misses the splash but hits some nice big boots and then a DDT on Vader. I find it interesting that the DDT is being used as a transitional move even by this time. Based on the grumblings of many older fans, who lament its inability to finish matches these days, I always assumed that it had only recently become a throwaway move, but it doesn't even merit a cover here. Maybe the old Nostalgia Goggles are at work, or perhaps the relative power of moves just changes as they cycle in and out of popularity. After all, the piledriver, which is outright banned in the WWE and often finishes matches elsewhere, used to be a transitional move which was regularly kicked out of.

Sting sets Vader up on the top with impressive ease, and commentary (which is great by the way - was pleasantly surprised to hear JR's voice) questions how he'll be able to pull off a superplex. He manages it by modifying his technique so it's more of a snap superplex, or even something closer to a DDT. Either way, it looks really cool, and really gets across the weight of Vader, as well as Sting's power and innovation.

Sting applies the Scorpion Deathlock! I'm saying this now: I don't think it's very good. Maybe it's just Vader's size, but his legs are barely crossed when Sting cinches it in. It's certainly not a patch on Bret's Sharpshooter. Vader gets to the outside and Sting misses a Stinger Splash, crashing into the guardrail. Back in the ring, Vader takes over and hits a big jumping splash. He goes for the pin, but leans back too far and Sting slips out. Vader is not a happy bunny. He shouts something loudly enough for the camera to pick it up. The only word I hear is "SHIT". I'm not sure if he's still in character and annoyed that Sting kicked out, or legitimately angry because something went wrong. Either way it's scary. He gets Sting into a headlock and he's very obviously outlining the next portion of the match to him, so maybe it was the latter... 

Vicious lariat from Vader to a seated Sting. Miraculously, Sting's head is still attached to his body, and he attempts a lovely sunset flip, and Vader tries to sit on him but misses. The crowd are into this, and firmly behind Sting. I realise that I am too, even though I started the match rooting for Vader. Sting has a real fire about him though, which is infectious.

Vader goes back to the headlock and obviously calls for Sting to suplex him out of it. His blatant calling of spots is starting to get slightly distracting now that I've noticed it. It's not something you see very often these days (except in Cena matches), presumably because things are planned more in advance. Vader gets back in control with lots of punches to the head. Sting is actually covering himself and trying to ward off the blows, which is something that so few wrestlers do. It makes it that more believable. He's also selling the punches perfectly, wobbling around the ring as though his legs could give out at any minute. There are few things I love more than great selling, and this is some top-draw stuff. There's some nice psychology here, which commentary picks up on: Sting is letting Vader tire himself out so he can counter-attack. Sure enough, Vader's punches start to get weaker, and Sting soon fires back with some of his own. This time, Vader's in 'SOME PAIN' and eventually goes down to the mat. 

Sting hits an impressive Samoan Drop (at least I think it is - JR calls it a fallaway slam, but I'm fairly sure it isn't), and then a splash from the top rope. Harley Race is here though! I'd completely forgotten about him. He doesn't really add much to this. Vader takes advantage of the distraction with a chokeslam and then hits a great second rope splash. Ouch. He goes up again, this time to the top, and dives, but Sting is on his feet and catches Vader (sort of) into a powerslam (sort of) for the three count. It looks a bit ropey to me (Vader basically hits a somersault senton and Sting just follows him down), but that didn't bother me because it was such a creative finish. It also fits the psychology of the match really well: all the way through, Sting used Vader's own weight against him, letting him tire himself out and then taking advantage. 

Concluding thoughts: I really enjoyed this match. It mostly moved at breakneck speed, with only a couple of strategic pauses to ramp up the tension. Vader is just a beast, and all his strikes look like they really mean business. All credit to Sting though: he really won me over as a babyface here, and I liked what I saw of him. I'll definitely have to check out more of his stuff. There was a solid story to the match too, even without knowing much of the background to it: Sting, the valiant hero, had to weather the storm of Vader's offence until the bigger man was tired, and then capitalise.

(I'm not going to do the ever-controversial star ratings, because those are for proper critics and that's not me. It would be presumptuous to rate wrestling when I only discovered it three years ago. It would be like someone rating movies when they'd only ever seen Shrek. Instead, I'll just give a short summary of my overall opinion and whether I'd watch it again.)

Verdict: Fun and fast-paced. Well worth a watch. 

Mumps for Creative - Some Thoughts on TLC 2017

It’s that time of year again, the one which fills us all with dread and brings a chill to the world of wrestling. No, not Halloween – I mean the season of unnecessary gimmick PPVs. First Hell in a Cell for Smackdown, now RAW’s TLC: Tender Loving Chairs. Though, for a PPV themed around TLC matches, it was remarkably light on… well, TLC matches. The only match involving the eponymous items of furniture was the main event, and even that was under ‘pinfall or submission’ rules, rather than the usual ladder-based stipulation. To be honest, I actually found this refreshing. As I said in my last post, gimmick PPVs often seem forced to me. Only the main event deserved the stipulation here, so I was pleased that they showed restraint with the undercard.

To make things even weirder, WWE is in the midst of a viral meningitis/mumps invasion angle, which meant that instead of the Big Dog we got the Big Dad, in the form of an adorably excited Kurt Angle. The parental theme continued with the addition of everyone’s favourite ‘soccer mom’, AJ ‘I want to speak to the manager’ Styles. Since, apparently, the dark magic of Sister Abigail (i.e. make-up and a voice changer) doesn’t protect her from viruses…

All in all, an unusual setup to a rather odd PPV. Let’s get into it.

Asuka vs. Emma

These two had what I think is a thoroughly underrated match at NXT Takeover: London, so I was looking forward to this a lot. This match wasn’t quite at that level, but I still enjoyed it for what it was. The difficulty was always going to be getting the balance of offence right. They could have just had Asuka squash Emma in a matter of seconds, but Emma is already struggling as it is: that would probably have killed her off. Likewise, they could have made it a twenty-minute back-and-forth epic, but then some of Asuka’s mystique would have been lost. As it was, I thought both women came out of the match looking good. Asuka is clearly a force to be reckoned with, but Emma looked strong for hanging with her for almost 10 minutes. Also, Asuka is just so slick in the ring. She has to be one of the best technicians in WWE right now, on any roster.

Summary: solid opener which did its job

Cedric Alexander & Rich Swann vs. Jack Gallagher & THE Brian Kendrick

If the opener under-delivered for me slightly, this match definitely exceeded expectations. Maybe it’s just because I’ve started watching 205 Live (it’s a fun show and an easy watch, honestly), but I’m enjoying these throwaway cruiserweight tag matches a lot more these days. They’ve chopped out some of the rest holds and gone more towards the flippy spot-fest style that people expect from cruiserweights. This wasn’t a match that we’ll be talking about in years to come, but it was fun and a good showing for all involved. It made me wonder whether there ought to be cruiserweight tag belts: Swann and Alexander make a good team and I wouldn’t mind seeing them wrestle together more often. Swann is more charismatic than he’s given credit for, and although Alexander hasn’t shown much charisma yet, he’s incredibly smooth in the ring. His Lumbar Check may be one of my favourite finishers. Also, kudos to Gallagher for his new Peaky Blinders tribute act. Wrestling in a tie is seriously impressive.

Summary: nothing to write home about, but good fun (i.e. the essence of 205 Live)

Alexa Bliss vs. Mickie James

The build to this match has been somewhat baffling. We’re supposed to believe that Mickie James is an aging veteran struggling to keep up who’s been given one last shot at getting the title. Normally I love this kind of story. The only problem here is that Mickie James isn’t that old. At 38, she’s younger than both AJ Styles and Sheamus. Would either of them get called out on their age? I suspect not. The whole thing reeks of traditional WWE-brand sexism. Loads of the male wrestlers have kids (hell, Heath Slater has ten), but because Mickie James is a woman, her child gets brought up on TV as evidence that she can’t wrestle... I appreciate WWE’s effort to tell one-on-one stories with the women, but this just isn’t believable for me. Mickie’s only two years older than Asuka (who’s presented as an up-and-coming star), for crying out loud…

Having said that, I thought this was a good match with some solid back and forth. Mickie James showed a lot of fire. I really hope she gets a decent feud at some point. I used not to rate Alexa in the ring (despite her being a natural on the mic), but I’m enjoying her matches a lot more these days. She manages to make a sunset flip powerbomb seem brutal, and her DDT finisher looks devastating.

Summary: a good match with an unconvincing (though interesting) story

Enzo Amore vs Kalisto

I hate Enzo. I hate him in the best way that it’s possible to hate a wrestler. Everything he does annoys me, yet for some reason I’m compelled to watch whenever he’s on screen. He’s a great character. I want to see him get punched in the face. In theory, then, this should have been the perfect match for me: the plucky underdog champ against the arrogant, vengeful Enzo. In reality, however, Kalisto bores me to tears. What’s his personality beyond a luchador who ‘makes Lucha Thing™’ and brings up Eddie Guerrero to get cheap pops? It’s not even as though he’s incredible in the ring. Gran Metalik is similarly bland, but at least he’s capable of jaw-dropping aerobatics. In short, given the choice between Enzo (annoying but interesting) and Kalisto (a good guy but boring), I’m always going to go with the more interesting choice. So even though I was trying to root for Kalisto (I always try to go with the story as much as possible), I was secretly glad that Enzo won.

As for the match itself, it was… there. Kalisto just isn’t very inspiring, and Enzo is severely limited in the ring. Apart from his crunchy diving DDT, all his offence looks very weak. Even his dastardly cheating doesn’t look good. (I had to watch the replay to see that he’d raked Kalisto’s eye, as, from the angle shown on TV, it looked as though he’d just given Kalisto’s cheek a light caress.) But what the cruiserweight division needs right now is a compelling story, and Enzo is more likely to provide that than a bland luchador who can’t cut promos. I hope Kalisto can settle down into the ‘midcard’ of the cruiserweights (which is the bottom of the undercard on the main roster, let’s face it) to make way for a more interesting challenger.

Summary: not very good, but I’m secretly glad that Enzo regained the title

Finn Balór vs. AJ Styles

The first of tonight’s matches to be brought to us by Viral Infections™. And what a juicy match-up it was: two veterans of the ring who cut their teeth elsewhere and spent time in NJPW. Commentary did a good job of hyping up these parallels, I thought (when Booker T wasn’t trying to derail everything – more on that later…).

The match itself was pretty sublime. Everything they did looked so crisp. Both guys got in some nice technical stuff; I enjoyed the surprise of Finn’s Romero Special, and AJ’s Calf Crusher transitions were as beautiful as always. The finish was great too, with AJ’s springboard headscissors, Balór’s brutal lariat, and then a Coup de Grâce to finish.  (Was that the most brutal Coup de Grâce that Balór has pulled off recently? It looked brilliant.) Everything made perfect sense and Styles looked great, even in defeat. AND THAT TOO SWEET AT THE END. I’ve never watched any New Japan, but even I got serious Feelings from seeing that.

However, although I’ve just waxed lyrical about it, it was only my second favourite match of the night. Why? Story (or rather, lack thereof). I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I didn’t really care who won. That’s not a criticism – they couldn’t have been expected to produce a deep narrative between two crowd favourites in a few days – it just makes me more excited to see this match further down the line with a compelling feud driving it.

Summary: a stellar match, even without a story behind it

Jason Jordan vs. Elias (Samson – Surnames 4 Justice)

It’s always sad when you get something that you wanted and then it doesn’t work out. Unfortunately, Jason Jordan’s push seems to be very much in this category. He’s not clicking with me as a goofy babyface, and it sounds as though the audience couldn’t care less about him either. The segments throughout the show where he pelted Elias with vegetables were excruciatingly embarrassing. He’s supposed to be a thoroughbred professional athlete: why would he care about someone singing a song enough to lob a cabbage at them? And where did he get those vegetables? Did he anticipate that Elias would sing at TLC (despite not having a match scheduled) and stop at the shops on his way (when he wasn’t even supposed to be wrestling either) to stock up on celery? Was there just a trolley of vegetables sitting around backstage? Absolutely baffling. It’s the worst kind of WWE ‘comedy’, of the “sufferin’ succotash” variety. Babyfaces being goofy only works if they can make it seem natural (e.g. the magnificence that is Breezango). Jordan is a talented wrestler, but he’s not capable of pulling that off.

As for the match, it was entirely missable. Jason Jordan is good in the ring (although he’s starting to fall into that predictable pattern that represents the worst of the WWE-style) but Elias is mediocre at best. As such, it was pretty boring until the dodgy finish. I couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or a mistake, but I didn’t really have much reason to care either.

Summary: a dull and lifeless affair, as the Jason Jordan experiment continues to flounder

Interlude: We Need to Talk about Booker

This was the first PPV where I’ve seriously considered muting the TV to avoid hearing the commentary. Cole was fine for most of the night (although describing Asuka as “fun-loving” was a weird call), and Graves was brilliant as usual. The problem was Booker T. Up until the penultimate match, he was mostly harmless, often falling silent for long periods before apparently waking up a loud “MMMMmmmm”. But then Jason Jordan got in the ring, and immediately everything went downhill. I can appreciate that Booker’s supposed to be the veteran who dislikes upstart rookies, but he came in far too strong by saying that Jordan only got this match because of Kurt Angle. Having presumably realised this, he spent the rest of the match flip-flopping wildly and defending himself against his increasingly exasperated colleagues. It was downright distracting, and did nothing to help poor Jason, who’s having enough trouble getting over as it is. As for the main event, Booker almost ruined several big moments with terrible calls, referring to Angle, the 48-year-old man being presented as a hero, as “pathetic”…

I may have become a wrestling fan after Booker T retired from the ring, but I know that he’s undoubtedly a legend of the business. That does not, however, mean that he is automatically qualified to commentate. Randy Savage and Mick Foley were legends, and their commentary was dire. I get that, with JBL gone, he’s the only big name left on the announce teams, but surely they could find someone else to replace him? It’s got to a point where he’s actively detracting from the product. This needs to stop. At this point I’d happily take David Otunga, Percy Watson, or even Lita. She’s not very good, but at least she doesn’t oscillate wildly between entirely opposing positions…

5-on-3 handicap pinfall or submission TLC match – The ShAngle vs. The Big Red Monster among the MizBar

This one was completely mental even before the Big Dog got the Big Sniffles. The Shield vs. a bizarre hodgepodge of their enemies, loosely held together by the Miz. Their motivations all made sense though: Braun wanted revenge for the triple powerbomb, the Bar (A.K.A. Sheasaro) wanted revenge for losing the tag titles, Kane wanted revenge for Roman retiring his brother, and the Miz was driven by an inferiority complex the size of Strowman and Big Show’s lovechild (sorry for the unwanted mental images). And then Stupid Sexy Kurt went and got involved, and suddenly it got even crazier. Kurt doing the Shield entrance with Dean and Seth, looking like, as many memes have pointed out, the biggest Make-a-Wish child ever. It was simultaneously cool and hilarious. The crowd didn’t really know what to do either, eventually making a valiant attempt to chant “You suck!” to the Shield’s music.

And all of that was before the bell had even rung. When the match got underway, things got even more balls-to-the-wall insane, with more twists and turns than a Zack Sabre Jr. submission hold. It was too action-packed to go through spot-by-spot, but I also can’t resist running down some of the highlights. So here’s a rundown of every crazy moment in this maelstrom of a match.

1. CHAIRS FOR DAYS. YOU get a chair-shot, and YOU get a chair-shot! Everyone gets a chair-shot!

2. Twin dives off ladders through the announce tables by Rollins and Ambrose and we’re not even that far into the match yet. Oh boy. This is quite something.

3. Braun kills Angle with a powerslam through a table. I’m assuming that wasn’t supposed to be part of the Make-a-Wish experience…

4. Why do tables suddenly hate Ambrose? Two refused to break for him this match. The second time looked absolutely horrible. 

5. Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal, Kane. That chair spot was cool though. Made Strowman look like a monster when he dragged himself out from under them and across the stage.

6. TEAM MIZ JUST KILLED A MAN. BY CRUSHING HIM IN A BIN LORRY. WHAT IS GOING ON?! If Braun survives, surely he has to turn face now, right?

7. Angle is back! That Angle Slam through the table looked nasty in all the right ways, and I loved him taking everyone to Suplex City. This was a good showing for Kurt, especially at such short notice.

8. Is this one of those YouTube videos called ‘50 Finishers to the Miz in WWE 2k18’? With this and the Royal Rumble this year, his new quest seems to be to take a finisher from everyone on the roster…

9. Kurt Angle becomes the Biggest Dog. I never knew I needed this until now. They finally hit the triple powerbomb, and that’s it.

Okay, so on paper, I know there was a lot wrong with this match: it didn’t flow very well, the story was full of holes (what was Miz’s plan for after Angle had left and he'd put the Shield in the bin lorry? Pin… nobody? Win by default? And why did Kane wait so long to turn on Braun?), it was a bit stilted, yadda yadda yadda. But you know what? I DON’T CARE. This was So. Much. Fun. Just a car crash in the best possible way. It was complete chaos from start to finish. I had a ball watching it. There was the perfect balance of predictability (e.g. Kurt’s triumphant return) and surprise (e.g. the goddamn garbage truck). Epic WWE silliness at its finest. Matches like this are why I love pro-wrestling.

Summary: a messy, chaotic riot from start to finish. I loved every minute of it.

Overall

I really enjoyed TLC for the most part. It started off fairly pedestrian, but by the second half things started to heat up. What’s interesting is that the two stand-out matches couldn’t have been more different, each reflecting a contrasting aspect of pro-wrestling. Styles vs. Balor was pro-wrestling as sport: a highly-skilled athletic contest between two masters of their craft. The main event was wrestling as a spectacle. No one would mistake this kind of match for sport: it’s closer to a pantomime or circus show. I love both aspects of pro-wrestling, and it makes me happy that WWE in 2017 can offer both. It wasn’t just a two-match-show though: the rest of the card was fairly strong too, with above-average women’s matches and a fun cruiserweight tag.

Of course, comparisons are always going to be made with Hell in a Cell. On balance, I think that TLC had much stronger undercard, but I enjoyed Hell in a Cell more, purely because of its standout book-end matches. Balór/Styles was great, but it couldn’t match up to the drama of the New Day vs. the Usos.

But don’t get me wrong: TLC was a very fun PPV, especially considering the last-minute changes to the card. Now would someone please go and rescue Braun from the landfill site, and possibly stitch him back together. He’s got a certain A-Lister to destroy…