Almost 5-Star Match Reviews

Keiji Muto is one of the most influential wrestlers of the past forty years. He’s had such a massive impact on wrestling that I wouldn’t be surprised if wrestling schools all over the world mandated that trainees study tapes of his matches. There are good reasons for this: whether wrestling as himself or as his famous alter-ego The Great Muta, the man is a master of storytelling, reinvention, presentation, and creating unique aesthetics that make him instantly distinguishable from his peers.

However, Muto’s career wasn’t without challenges. Behind the scenes he was a controversial booker for both AJPW and Wrestle-1, contributing to the former’s post-2002 downfall and the latter’s failure to grow and subsequent closure. In the ring he has been accused of being self-centered, constructing matches around himself at times to his opponents’ detriment.

Nevertheless, Muto/Muta remains a wrestling icon, so the point that his matches as both himself and his alter-ego ought to be studied, hence our look at these five random matches of his.

Tragedy struck this past Sunday as Benjamin Satterly, better known as (Adrian) Neville in WWE and PAC everywhere else, passed away suddenly at age forty. PAC leaves behind an incredible legacy of athleticism and pro wrestling skill. He has wrestled all over the world, from stadiums to dimly-lit gymnasiums. He was an exciting high-flyer who made a name for himself on the indies and, later, NXT. His match with Sami Zayn at TakeOver: R Evolution was an instant hit that cemented NXT’s place in the wrestling world and helped alter the course of American wrestling history by giving more attention to technique-heavy workers in an era still largely defined by Vince McMahon’s penchant for bodybuilders and over-the-top characters. Whether he was known as PAC or Neville his memory will remain with his fans forever, so with that let’s look back at his career with these five matches.

When it comes to wrestlers that are overlooked, underrated, or underappreciated, few embody those words more than Hirooki Goto. He’s a NJPW mainstay but for many years had a negative, almost comic reputation as the company’s perennial nearlyman. He was the poster child of the expression “always the bridesmaid, never the bride”: despite winning tons of tournaments, getting constant look and presentation changes, and boasting one of the coolest arsenal of techniques, for years he just couldn’t win the big one. For years he was considered NJPW’s version of Kofi Kingston, a perpetual midcarder who got the odd world title shot but always choked in the biggest matches. But that comparison became moot in 2019 whereas Goto finally broke his curse in 2025! But winning the big one isn’t everything; like Kane, Goto managed to achieve stable employment in a generally unstable industry while putting on some solid performances in the process.

Two weeks ago I looked at a collection of Cesaro/Claudio Castagnoli matches and looked at him through the lens of the debate between greater wrestler and wrestling star. Here we look at the other half of that equation in Steve Austin, a man widely considered the greatest wrestling megastar of all time. Depending on whom you ask, Austin is either on the same level as, or higher than, Hulk Hogan, in terms of success and popular appeal. His peak was relatively short but still incredibly high, as his feud with Vince McMahon tapped into the zeitgeist and made him into a generational hero. But as time moves on some people look back and question Austin’s list-topping status. His main-event run lasted five or take five years and was plagued by concerns surrounding serious injuries, which in turn shifted his interactions towards angles, brawls, and beat-downs. In other words, he spent more time each week beating up Vince McMahon and shooting angles than he did putting his body on the line.

So when it comes to Austin’s in-ring exploits, he does have at least a few noted stand-out classics: two with Bret Hart in 1996 and 1997, one with Dude Love in 1998, one with Triple H at No Way Out 2001, and of course, his big blow-off with The Rock at WrestleMania X-Seven. But even though his bread and butter came from quick brawls and fewer long matches that put his long-term health at greater risk, he was still a capable wrestler, as shown with the following five bouts.

Kenta Kobashi is arguably the greatest professional wrestler of modern times. In his prime he was putting on classic, time-tested, elite-level matches left and right. While there are many reasons for his reputation still holding over a decade after his retirement – his look, charisma, move-set, energy, and selling among them – there’s one very important factor behind Kobashi’s success: he is the Hulk Hogan of Japan. By this I mean Kobashi’s entire persona and match layout followed the same general structure: he takes a savage beating, starts a comeback, channels the audience’s energy, and makes a decisive, heroic turnaround. Once you see Kobashi’s wrestling through this lens it becomes impossible. Though he’s not the first to emulate this approach as it was the same storytelling archetype seen with Antonio Inoki, Rikidozan, and the Japanese sci-fi hit series Ultraman. However, where Hogan and Kobashi differ is in application of this structure. Hogan was a minimalist who understood his audience’s specific wants and gave them a curated and simplified formula. Kobashi, meanwhile, was a maximalist, a rare breed who gave everything he had in every match because he never wanted viewers to feel swindled or that they were given a subpar performance for their money. So when you take Hogan’s match skeleton and combine it with Kobashi’s in-ring maximalism, the end result is one of the closest things possible to a truly perfect wrestler.

I’ve covered Kobashi’s in-ring career extensively over the years and many of his matches are true, bona fide 5-Star Classics the likes of which you aren’t likely to see these days. But was his reputation true? Did he really give everything in every match? I don’t think so: even superheroes need days off and Kobashi, like every wrestler, had times where he didn’t need to overexert himself. Yet he did so anyway, such was the extent of his passion for wrestling. That extends into these five lesser matches of his, performances that are by no means his biggest or best performances but are worth looking at all the same.

If you ever wanted to find someone who encapsulated the debate between a pro wrestler and a pro wrestling star, look no further than Cesaro, a.k.a. Claudio Castagnoli. The man has been wrestling for over twenty-five years and has been all over the world. He’s one of the most universally admired and respected people in his business and has been described with almost exclusively flattering language by his peers. Hell, Paul Heyman once described WWE fumbling him in the mid-2010s as “a crime” because he was such a talented and naturally gifted individual. Some fans, however, have argued that he’s just a good worker and a good worker does not a top star make. His critics have pointed to an alleged lack of charisma, subpar promo delivery, and a generic look reminiscent of a create-a-wrestler template. In other words, Cesaro/Castagnoli is a living, breathing example of the sizzle or steak argument. What sold him to me was when Kevin Steen called him a “human horse” in a shoot interview. Once you look at his matches with that in mind you can’t unsee it. With that, let’s look at a random collection of singles match to see if that reputation holds true.

To say that Kurt Angle is one of the greatest wrestlers of all time would be an understatement. He’s an exceptional, one-in-a-billion athlete the likes of which pro wrestling isn’t likely to see anytime soon. Though there have been Olympians to enter pro wrestling none have possessed Angle’s pedigree or have transitioned to the pro game as quickly and effectively. He wasn’t just a wrestling machine either; he had amazing acting chops and was comfortable making a fool of himself on the mic because he knew he could tie his opponents in knots effortlessly and he’d have audiences fully convinced he could break them in half if he wanted to.

Angle’s wrestling career is filled with some of the greatest matches you’ll ever see. His matches with Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania 21 and The Undertaker at No Way Out 2006 are top-tier classics. He put on one of the greatest opening matches ever with Rey Mysterio at SummerSlam 2002. His matches with Chris Benoit through 2002 and 2003 still hold up well, as does his trilogy of 2003 singles matches opposite Brock Lesnar. He also had a hidden gem with Eddie Guerrero at WrestleMania XX and one of the greatest cage matches ever with Mr. Anderson at TNA Lockdown 2010. But there’s still quite a lot more to his incredible career, as we’ll see with these next five matches.

The 1990s was an excellent decade for pro wrestling outside. While different companies experienced ups and downs throughout that period, there was a general sense of experimentation and risk-taking that affected the medium all over the world. Nowhere was this truer than in Japan: with an economic downturn affecting fans’ discretionary spending wrestling companies had to reinvent the wheel to draw viewers in. You could say that each of the biggest companies tried to answer a different theoretical question through their wrestling. For AJPW it was “What if we pursue pro wrestling in its purest form?” For NJPW it was “What if we combine pro wrestling with martial arts?” For UWF and the other shoot-style companies it was “What if pro wrestling became a pure sport?” For AJW it was “What is the ring was not a square, but a cube?” For FMW it was “What if the ropes were no longer usable?” and who better to answer that question than Megumi Kudo and Combat Toyoda?

The Story

For the longest time most of my knowledge of joshi centered on AJW and JWP so my knowledge of these women was fairly limited. I’d heard stories of Megumi Kudo’s fabled reputation and how the AJW women were afraid of wrestling her because she was so tough and daring. Luckily for me (and other visitors to the Blog), Jabroniville has done excellent write-ups of both women’s careers. According to him, Kudo was decidedly average in most respects but had excellent timing in the ring which is one of those abilities that can’t really be taught; you either have it or you don’t. JAB compared Kudo to Shawn Michaels in terms of ability to carry lesser workers to **** quality, especially since FMW’s women’s division was limited compared to other promotions showing women’s wrestling at the time. Oh, and of course, she invented the Vertebreaker, because of course she did.

So now we have the obvious babyface in the equation in Kudo so not it’s time to look at the heel. Like Kudo, Noriyo “Combat” Toyoda debuted for AJW but was cut after only two years. Both women were later recruited by Atsushi Onita when he launched Frontier Martial-Arts Wrestling (FMW) and Toyoda would transform into another big, face-painted monster similar to Aja Kong. Like Kong, Toyoda could become known for eating her opponents’ offense and selling at the right time; that is, after taking a beating to make it look like her opponent stands a chance of somehow defeating her.

So after a decade in wrestling and six years in FMW, it was time for Combat Toyoda to retire. Following in the footsteps of Akira Hokuto, Toyoda vows to put everything from her career into this match, as does Kudo. In other words, both women vow to ensure Toyoda ends her career on the highest note possible. Considering that many fans consider this, her final match, the single greatest of her career, there’s a lot of pressure to live up to.

The Match

This took place on May 5, 1996. It was rated ***1/2 out of five by the Wrestling Observer’s Dave Meltzer. Not only is this Kudo’s retirement match, she’s also staking her two titles: the FMW Independent Women’s Championship and the WWA Women’s Championship.

They lock-up and Toyoda shows off her strength advantage but gets a clean break close to one set of wires. On a second lock-up Kudo gets dangerously close to hitting another. Kudo gets an arm wringer and lands stiff middle kicks. Both women throw hands, feet, and heads. Toyoda gets the advantage and almost sends Kudo into the wires. Kudo takes Toyoda to the mat, works a headlock, and sinks down to avoid getting shot off the wires. A quick scoop slam gets Kudo a one-count. She briefly works the leg and starts kicking Toyoda close to danger. Kudo escapes a pop-up powerbomb and gets a schoolboy cover for another one-count. Kudo charges but runs into a scoop powerslam that gets two. Toyoda blasts Kudo with head-butts which leads to another strength struggle. Kudo kicks herself free. Then she forward to dodge a clothesline – but Toyoda dropkicks her and sends her into the exploding barbed wire! BOOM!

Kudo survives that explosion with soot on one arm and a cut on the other. Toyoda picks her up and hits the Combat Driver, a sick one-shoulder powerbomb out of a torture rack, for two. Toyoda follows with a spinning torture rack backbreaker for another near-fall and then locks her in a surfboard hold. Kudo counters another Combat Driver with an armdrag. Combat reverses an Irish whip but Kudo saves herself by sliding intentionally. Toyoda misses a charge and runs into another set of electrified barbed wire!

Kudo lifts Toyoda up and puts her in a sleeper hold. Toyoda resists and fights to her feet so Kudo lands an enzuigiri and locks in a dragon sleeper. Kudo attempts her own Irish whip but Toyoda collapses after only a few steps. Kudo attempts a Tiger Driver but Toyoda powers out and clotheslines her into one of the already-exploded sides. Kudo swings for a clothesline but Combat ducks and lands a picture-perfect bridging German Suplex for two. Kudo counters a powerbomb with a DDT. She counters a clothesline with a bridging snap suplex for another near-fall. Kudo charges again but Toyoda spikes her with a Backdrop. Two-count once again. Crotch-lift Ligerbomb. Two-count. Toyoda hits two ThunderFire Powerbombs, each gets a near-fall. Kudo counters another powerbomb attempt with a Yoshi Tonic for two. Both women struggle towards another set of wires. They trade rear waistlocks. Kudo fights out, gets a running start, and charges, only for both women to fall into the wires and get electrocuted!

Atsushi Onita looks on from the stands concerned as both women struggle to get up. They use each other to get to their feet but Kudo strikes first with a Tiger Driver for another near-fall. Kudo follows with an absolutely vicious high-angle head-spiking powerbomb but that, too, gets only two. There’s only one thing left to do: Kudo hooks the arms, flips Toyoda upside down, and spikes her with the Kudome Valentine/Vertebreaker. One, two, three! Kudo wins the titles and Toyoda retires!

Winner and new FMW Independent Women’s Champion and WWA Women’s Champion after 21:26: Megumi Kudo

You can watch the full match here.

Review

I don’t usually like deathmatch wrestling but I must make an exception here because, point blank, this is one of the greatest matches of the past thirty years. I loved watching this and if you haven’t seen it yet I’m sure you will, too. This wasn’t token gore or ultraviolence for its own sake; instead, it was a tremendous example of “no wasted motion” and making every move matter. That necessity came from the stipulation: they couldn’t risk getting too close to the ropes lest they suffer extreme consequences. With both women unable to use the ropes they both lost access to an entire repertoire of moves, ropebreaks, and the ability to use the ropes for momentum. The stipulation created a similar sort of claustrophobia and tension as a steel cage or Hell in a Cell match but with significantly more danger. Given the stipulation and the situation, the match ended up a nail-biting experience that held fans’ undivided attention from start to finish and included some of the wildest display of consequence ever seen.

Because of their setting, both women had to make every move matter, and they did. Every lock-up, exchange, even step, told a story. They made tests of strength immediately consequential. Placement in the ring was essential to each woman’s success and survival. Without the freedom of the ropes both women wrestled far more cautiously than normal, rarely leaving outside of five feet from their starting positions. They still showcased some “normal” wrestling but everything was still wrapped in this razor’s edge tension that simply isn’t found in ordinary wrestling and especially not in major TV-friendly wrestling. From how they moved and hit techniques they made it look like they were both competing while walking on their tiptoes, slowly but repeatedly teasing an explosion that eventually came when a well-timed dropkick from Toyoda sent Kudo into the wire.

But just because they hit three of the four sets of wires and eliminated those once-and-done current blasts didn’t mean the wrestling got any easier. Both women smashed each other with incredible techniques and stiff strikes to the head. Both women bled from getting sliced by the wires, with Kudo’s pink-and-white costume stained red all over once the match ended. Both women sold incredibly well, which created a gripping story of frustration, passion, and determination. They succeeded in elevating this beyond typecasting and stereotyping associated with deathmatch wrestling and created something far more resonant. They overcame physical and special handicaps yet managed to craft just as compelling a narrative. It goes to show that sometimes, limiting what a wrestler can do in the ring can yield better results since the athletes are forced to add greater emotional weight and depth into fewer techniques.

There’s also the visual aspect to consider. The barbed wire weren’t just thin strings replacing the ropes but were tangled and combined into spider web patterns. The explosions and electric current were pulled off in a way that made the idea of them getting shocked/electrocuted far more believable, even if it was still theatrical. But most importantly was a minor visual detail in the ring canvas: rather than keep the typical monochrome pattern FMW added a red stripe around the edges, closest to the wires. So for anyone watching from farther away could see whenever one of the women touched the line between red and blue which signaled imminent danger. Small aesthetic choices like this add to the viewing experience, especially if you can’t see the action from too close.

Final Rating: ****3/4

While some might find the idea of women throwing themselves and each other into electrified barbed wire barbaric, even by pro wrestling standards, this wasn’t the torture porn that’s found in some American promotions, nor was it slapstick or comedic horror either. Instead, this was a psychological and explosive (pun intended) experience that featured both classic wrestling concepts and new ideas. While it was a bit slow at times and there were a few too many cuts to Atsushi Onita watching from the crowd, both of these minor flaws were justified given the stipulation and actions in the ring.

I’ve read many reviews and the general consensus among them is that this is the best deathmatch ever or something like that. I have a hard time disagreeing. They got so much out of so (relatively) little, to the point that Toyoda did indeed conclude her career on the highest note possible. Absolute highest recommendation possible to seek this out and save it.

Thanks for reading.

It’s been a while since I’ve done a match review and thinking back I wanted to look at something that had significant impact on the wrestling business. When looking at what to review I recalled this historic match and found it to be a no-brainer. Put simply, the present-day landscape wouldn’t be what it is had Kenny Omega not won the G1 Climax. Having this comedy guy complete his transformation into believable headlining act was a daunting task but it was pulled off better than everyone expected. Not only that, Omega put on another career-best performance despite still reeling following THE best match of his career the night before.

It has been almost 25 years since Ring of Honor first launched. As a promotion it has undergone many ups and downs. But that seems to be the case with almost every promotion not named WWE: a new start up is announced, it has an impressive showing on its first show, and then a honeymoon phase follows for the next few years. But then once a certain standard is set it becomes harder to meet on a regular basis. Then for one reason or another interest wanes or fades completely and over time that promotion struggles to maintain momentum. This pattern isn’t unique to ROH, either: it also happened to TNA, NOAH, AEW to some degree and, most recently, post-Vince McMahon Triple H-run WWE. Sometimes people lose faith in a brand they once loved and reminisce over better times. That’s what brings us to this match, the one that put ROH on the map in the first place.

If there was ever a match that could be described as “chicken soup for the soul”, it’s this random televised singles match between Bret Hart and the 1-2-3 Kid.

As a Canadian Bret Hart’s name is still considered royalty up here even if much of his image has been somewhat shaken by years of alleged bitterness and criticism of the medium that made him famous. What cannot be shaken, though, is his reputation for being able to get a good match out of anyone, which has served as the cornerstone for his career and his post-retirement reputation. Then there’s Sean Waltman. a.k.a. X-PAX/Syxx-Pac/Lightning Kid/1-2-3 Kid, a midcarder who, like Bret, earned a reputation for being so good at his job that it became WWF’s unofficial mantra that, if you couldn’t have a good match with him, you weren’t a good wrestler at all. Strangely these two men only met one-on-one once but the sole match they did have was hailed as a classic when it first took place over thirty years ago. It was also considered arguably the best RAW match up to that point, so let’s see how well it holds up all these years later.

I never watched WCW growing up and didn’t learn about it until much later which, in hindsight, is a big shame because I clearly missed out on a lot of great wrestling. But that’s one of the benefits of the modern digital age: someone somewhere has footage of these older matches and has been gracious enough to share that with the world. In this case it’s a WWE-managed YouTube account centered on that old school WCW goodness. And with it being Christmas I figured I’d give myself a gift and watch one of the best ironman matches to ever take place.

I received a request from a reader to review this match and it’s been sitting unfinished for quite some time now. And now that I’ve finally gotten around to rewatching this match I understand why. What has been called one of the best opening matches of Daniel Bryan’s WWE career is, in hindsight, underwhelming and unworthy of such high praise. Then again when this match is the only redeeming quality on a show featuring at least four bad-to-terrible matches then obviously something with two lovable darlings will stand out positively by comparison.

The Story

Nothing here, just two midcard champions being booked against one another as part of the larger Raw versus SmackDown gimmick that WWE kept resurrecting, even though no one fucking cared about this since the winning brand received nothing of consequence. But that was late 2000s-early 2010s WWE for you: full of talented athletes forced to work with piss-poor gimmicks and less-than-stellar writing.

Professional wrestling is usually seen as a young person’s business. Given how serious of a toll it takes on the mind and body it makes sense for most wrestlers to get in when they’re young and get out by their forties. Wrestlers who keep going beyond, say, forty have been, up until recently, rare, and wrestlers stepping into the ring when in their fifties, sixties, and beyond, has been rarer still. There’s an obvious reason for this: once a wrestler hits a certain point where their physical declines become impossible to ignore people start to wonder if they’re better off hanging up their boots. But once in a while a story comes along in wrestling that seems to ignore the ravages of time. The last major feud of the career of Jushin Thunder Liger is one such a case.

The Story

In spring 2019 Jushin Liger announced that he would retire at Wrestle Kingdom 14 when NJPW hosted their annual Tokyo Dome show. This announcement was symbolic: not only was it the same venue in which the Jushin Liger wrestler character debuted back in 1989, but his retirement would coincide with the changing era brought about by a new Emperor assuming the throne in Japan. Since Liger was a Heisei Era wrestler and the new Reiwa Era was upon him, Liger saw this as a fitting pretext to let the next generation of junior heavyweights to take over.

And so Liger embarked on a retirement tour. Yet along the way he crossed paths with someone who really didn’t have all that much respect for him, that being Minoru Suzuki. Suzuki mocked Liger for not being able to go anymore and wanted to show everyone that the “Beast God” was nothing more than a fable. To really hammer this point home at one point Suzuki called Liger “Yamada” (Liger’s real name). The verbal bouts escalated into brutal ringside brawls, frequent chair-shots (a rarity in NJPW outside of acts like the Bullet Club) more American-style pull-aparts. Then things reached a boiling point: Suzuki tore off Liger’s mask and wig, leaving him a battered mess in the ring, his face concealed only by a towel thrown on him by Young Lions at the last moment. In response, a six-man tag match featuring Liger and Suzuki ended after about a minute when Liger became so enraged that he intentionally disqualified himself…and unleashed his demonic alter-ego Kishin Liger for only the fourth time in his career.

Kishin Liger proceeded to spit black mist in Suzuki’s face and attempted to stab Suzuki with a ring spike. The look on Suzuki’s face said it all: for the first time in years, Suzuki was afraid of something. “What hell hath Suzuki wrought?”, noted Kevin Kelly on commentary. Backstage, however, as Kishin’s attacks continued, Suzuki’s fear turned int maniacal laughter. Suzuki, a man notorious for terrifying his opponents whether they were rookies or headliners, was suddenly thrust into a whirlwind of emotions courtesy of a now-fully-awakened Liger. But would this level of intensity and animosity follow them into the ring when they finally squared off?

As I work my way through my Jumbo Tsuruta books to get those reviews going I figured I’d pivot for a moment to a match that kinda involves Tsuruta in spirit by way of Jun Akiyama. Though much smaller than Jumbo, Akiyama shared many similarities with him. He was an amateur wrestling standout, loved suplexes, wrestled in a smooth and aesthetically-pleasing way, and had the jumping knee bat as one of his trademark moves. To this day Akiyama is one of my favorite wrestlers who put on incredible matches over the course of his career despite never quite reaching the same level as the legendary Four Heavenly Kings. But how would Akiyama handle a wrestler as unstoppable and rehabilitated as Big Van Vader?

AJ Styles has been called “the Shawn Michaels of his generation” which is about as high praise as one can get in wrestling. He has been active as a performer for almost thirty years and has been consistently across different promotions and in different settings. Yet for all the regular praise he was getting as early as 2003 he was initially dismissed as just a small indy guy by the bigger power players in wrestling. Much of the evidence for this ignorance was based on how he looked and how he was mostly relegated to wrestling similar-sized high-flyers or flippy guys that permeated the independent scene at the time. But like Michaels at many points in his career, Styles was also very, very good at creating exciting matches against much bigger and heavier monsters, as seen here.

Few wrestlers have seen their reputation experience so many ups and downs as Triple H. He was loathed for many years as a midcarder, despised by many for his involvement with The Kliq and the Montreal Screwjob, hated even more during the 2000s for his backstage politicking and underwhelming main-event matches, loved again when he took over NXT, and now…is starting to see his reputation sink again due to how he’s perceived to be handling WWE’s business and creative directions in 2025. But there were a few times in his career when his talent couldn’t be ignored or denied. These were short windows when he was a lot better than many people believed. The most obvious of these periods was from January 2000 to May 2001 when he was more or less on top of the mountain as the WWF’s top heel and world champion. And few people were more critical to HHH’s blossoming into a true world champion than Mick Foley and his various personas.

The Story

Triple H and Foley – as Cactus Jack – faced off for the title one month earlier at the 2000 Royal Rumble in a Street Fight. That match is often hailed as one of the best matches in WWF/E history and one of the best in both of these men’s careers. Two weeks later Triple H decided to grant Cactus one last shot at the title but with the condition that if he lost he’d have to retire. Cactus agreed but he’d get to choose the stipulation…and he chose Hell in a Cell.

This frightened the champion: Cactus/Foley still carried the weight of his most famous Cell appearance with him and it solidified him as a monster that was next to impossible to kill. If Cactus managed to leave the Cell then HHH would have a harder time maintaining control. To this end if he wanted to win he’d have to do everything in his power to tip the scales in his favor…which we will see wouldn’t work out as he intended.

When talking about the greatest professional wrestlers ever by longevity a few names come up right away. On the men’s side these names include Ric Flair, Terry Funk, The Undertaker, Sting, and The Great Muta. There are far fewer options on the women’s side, with Mae Young and the Fabulous Moolah being the most notable multi-decade wrestlers. One name that should definitely be included alongside them – or perhaps top the list for not just wrestling in multiple decades but also for being consistently good in multiple decades – is Aja Kong.

Aja Kong might be one of the best wrestlers of all time, regardless of gender. She has outlasted virtually all of her female peers and even all of the top male stars to make it big in the late 80s and 90s. Many wrestlers have copied her style, including the likes of Vader and Eddie Kingston. Rossy Ogawa, one of the key minds behind the joshi scene for decades, once lauded her for being one of the smartest and most brilliant wrestlers he has ever worked with. And many of her matches still hold up today, more than three decades later, including the one we’ll be covering today.

The Story

On January 3rd Hotta beat Kong in a non-title singles match to earn the right to challenge for the title. Kong, however, didn’t sell this at all and described “feeling nothing” in the pre-match video going into this contest. But as we’ll see once the bell rings, Kong is very good at playing the stoic and saving her emotion and expression for the ring.

When AEW first announced this match it was all the convincing I needed to buy a ticket. Even though AEW’s regular product is, for me, hit or miss, Bryan Danielson versus Kazuchika Okada was something I really wanted to see in person. At the time I was still a big Okada fan and was hoping he would bring some of the magic from earlier in his career to this show. As for Danielson he has a laundry list of tremendous matches, many of which still hold up well today and a lot of those were first-time encounters or otherwise “cold matches” that didn’t have the most heated or complex of backstories. So even though this match didn’t have the deepest ~LORE~ behind it I still thought it was watching live and not through a screen.

Unfortunately, despite a strong effort, this was not the instant classic it was hyped up to be.

It’s often said that opposites attract, and twenty years ago you weren’t likely to find two wrestlers that bit this bill more than Kenta Kobashi and Minoru Suzuki. One was a chiseled pro-wrestling machine who wrestled like the classic NWA champions of the 70s and made his way to the top from the very bottom. The other was a pioneer in shootfighting, received training from a man the Japanese literally nicknamed “Kami-Sama” (“God”) and was one of the pioneers that would lay the foundation for what has become known as Mixed Martial Arts. In 2005, though, the only thing these two men had in common was that their bodies were held together by artificial substances: Kobashi’s by metal rods and steel plates, Suzuki’s by rubber bands and black magic. So what would happen when these two men from radically different backgrounds would clash one-on-one?