Buster Time Digest

At least We're Trying

Yes, Buster Time Digest, the last refuge of the Wrestling of the Damned - misfit cards that aren't provocative enough to warrent a full-on review, single matches that don't have the required amount of Cognitive Meat on their Structural Bones to make a full review out of, and...everything else. It is, in short, "everything else" that comes down the pipe. And rather than let all those hours of couch-sitting go to waste, We, the Resourceful Lads of BTM, created the Digest. It'll be a one-a-month thing, and god only knows what'll be in it.

IWA Lt. Heavyweight Tournament
by Brendan "Shaddax" Welsh-Balliett

IWA is one of the two largest promotions in Puerto Rico, along with WWC; run by Victor Quinones, they've developed the promotional strategy of regularly supplementing their standard crews with internationally renowned talent. Usually, this means various developmental talents and the occasional star from the WWF, via IWA's copromotional/developmental deal with McMahon-land. But for this tour, dating from 1998, the idea was to stage that staple of Japanese feds and indy promotions worldwide, from ECWA to Big Japan, and now the IWA, the juniors tournament. Fortunately, IWA knew what they were doing: talents included for this tour numbered Tajiri, Super Crazy, Chris Daniels, Tiger Mask IV, The Great Sasuke, Reckless Youth, TAKA Michinoku, Alexander Otsuka, Mr. Aguila (Essa Rios), and Jeff Hardy among their number.

1. The tape (which is a compilation of TV matches) kicks off with a battle royal under Royal Rumble rules, the winner to receive a bye into the quarterfinals of this shindig. Tajiri and Super Crazy start and do their usual nifty work, focusing on the mat due to the rules; Tajiri here is still wearing his old short shorts, for reference. Chris Daniels and Aguila are the second two in and each do some nice work with the ECW ex-pats. This is really the best part of this match, as after this, various crappy Puerto Rican workers with whom I'm not familiar are fed in, dragging the thing down. In general, I'm not really sure who thought that a battle royal was the best use of juniors; by their nature the stipulations eliminate much of the swift wrestling and highflying which separate the juniors style and define it as something legitimate in and of itself, apart from the heavyweights. This match is basically just another brawl, this time featuring small guys; it's a perfectly acceptable one, **1/2-ish, but really a waste of the available talent. Tajiri eliminates an IWA worker for the win.

2. Danny Boy vs. Pablo Marquez Yes, that's ECW's Pablo; Danny Boy is just another IWA guy, none of whom are exactly world famous as Jrs. workers are concerned. This match basically sucks, as while Pablo tries his heart out and Danny Boy actually hits an (admittedly ugly) tope, the suck factor of the obese Danny is just too strong. Indeed, the thing ends quickly as Marquez suffers a leg injury off the tope and has to forfeit. Blah. ½*.

3. Chris Daniels vs. Pepe Prado It's easy to forget, what with his status as Indy Workrate Hero, that Chris Daniels actually has a huge store of charisma and a great black priest gimmick; it makes his continued lack of major league employment all the more puzzling, once you watch him in action and realize just how WWF-ready he was even three years ago. This match is essentially competent indy fare, as they (by which I mean Daniels, who carries the match) utilize a lucha-inflected US pro moveset with very little build (Daniels is showboating after the Angel's Wings, three minutes in) to create a slightly glorified 1st hour Raw match. Daniels reverses a quebradora to the Last Rites for the win in about 5 minutes. **.

4. Reckless Youth vs. TAKA Michinoku This match, like the preceding, is in essence a sort of Raw match with little build and a quick start, though this is more Mpro-inflected than lucha due to the insertion of TAKA; the indies influence remains with Youth's presence. Both men run through some nice offensive spots, TAKA with a snapmare/dropkick combo and a Bronco Buster, and Youth with a headscissors and a somersault tope among others. And all of a sudden, that's the match, as TAKA hits a leg lariat and gets the 3 count, even though Youth kicks out. A blown finish, 4 ½ minutes of ring time, and a match of nothing but spots does not make me happy, especially given what this could have been. * ¾.

5. Alexander Otsuka vs. Mr. Aguila WOW, who the HELL booked these guys against each other? Otsuka is a shoot-style worker and occasional legit shooter notable for his work with Battlarts and Pride, and Aguila is a complete lucha-style performer, so much so that even three years with the WWF hasn't really changed him stylistically. Aguila makes me laugh to start by mocking Otsuka with the Karate Kid crane pose, then Otsuka makes me laugh even harder by punching Aguila in the mouth about 12 times, then kneeing him in the head, then choking him with the bottom rope. Do NOT mock that man's technique. Outsuka oddly spends a great deal of time playing to the fans, notable mostly for the fact that to my knowledge Otsuka speaks neither English nor Spanish to any great degree, yet is successful in getting good crowd heat; something to be said for innate charisma, I guess. The match itself is the sort of slightly amusing train wreck you'd expect out of two talented workers who really have no idea what to do with each other, as they each sort of randomly decide to pull out moves on each other (Aguila with a powerbomb, Otsuka with a giant swing) without ever establishing any real flow. Still, natural talent counts for something, as they manage to flop and stumble their way to a thoroughly OK little match in the **-ish range, before Aguila takes it with a Firebird splash in about 6 or 7 minutes. Chiefly interesting in a "THOSE two guys wrestled each other?" sort of way.

5. Tiger Mask IV vs. Great Sasuke Clipped. I hate the IWA. What's shown is very much a by-the-numbers Mpro singles match without much of a mat build (presumably what was clipped) from two talented workers who aren't doing much out of the ordinary. Further causing me annoyance, this is booked to be a double count out after a Sasuke somersault tope, taking both men out of the tournament. Mailed in, stupid finish. *, and a huge disappointment considering the matches these two should have with each other.

6. Jeff Hardy vs. Super Crazy This bizarre grab bag of undersized workers continues, pitting these two together possibly for the only time in their career; I don't know of any other matches, but that doesn't mean they didn't run into each other at an indy show or a Superstars taping in '97 or something of that nature. The match itself is like every other one on this tape, a too-short Raw-esque contest in the 5-8 minute range, in which both men basically say the hell with build and transitions in favor of throwing out their best spots to pop the crowd. The result, sadly, are spotfesty matches which are fun in their way but hardly either important or more than good. Here, it's Jeff with a somersault tope, a springboard senton atomico (swanton), and a quebrada for 2, and Super Crazy with a springboard dropkick, Asai moonsault (which is NOT a quebrada), powerbomb, and double springboard moonsault. Jeff misses a twisting corkscrew moonsault and Crazy hits the tri-phasic moonsault combo for the win. Spot-tastic. ** ½.

7. Black Scorpion vs. Tajiri This is the first quarterfinal and is "lucha en progresso", which means clipped. Scorpion is another faceless IWA guy so generic it's painful, though he does have some nicely athletic reversals and a passable pescado. Scorpion's generic brawling axehandles-and-Irish whips offense controls for far too long before Tajiri hits a nice piledriver for the win. Bleh, ¾ *.

8. TAKA Michinoku vs. Mr. Aguila Another quarterfinal, and a much better match up obviously, even if it does scream "2nd match on Jakked!" these days. TAKA establishes himself as a cocky heel by taunting Aguila after a shoulderblock, as they do actual holds-and-reversal to start, none of which really mean anything but which at least establish a context for a build. The rest of the match is full of rich, creamy lucha goodness as TAKA rediscovers that part of the Mpro style and Aguila reminds me why he's often called a good luchador. This one gets a decent amount of time, enough to be less spectacular than their Wrestlemania XIV match but probably more fundamentally sound; TAKA is freed up by the Puerto Rican environment to play the dick heel he should in this match up, dragging Aguila around by the mask and showboating after every big move. Aguila hits a flapjack into the Firebird for the pin. ** ½.

9. Super Crazy vs. Tajiri Third quarterfinal (Chris Daniels gets a bye due to TM IV and Sasuke going to a double countout) and a really familiar match up to ECW fans. This is Tajiri/Crazy by numbers, essentially, featuring their usual meaningless-but-fast matwork which appeals to many to start building to larger spots. They actually work in the first psychology of the tape, as Tajiri ducks a too-early attempt at a highspot from Crazy, sending the luchador out to the floor and giving Tajiri an in for some offense. Taj runs through some of his stuff, including a nice Asai moonsault and the Tarantula (amid clippage) until Crazy hits a sidearm powerbomb out of no where; it's a really dreadful transition. And, almost as if the wrestling art gods were punishing him, Tajiri quickly nails the piledriver for the win. ** ½-ish, though clipped.

10. Mr. Aguila vs. Chris Daniels The first semifinal, and another Jakked special. One step up the evolutionary totem pole, these two manage to have a Smackdown match which is slightly longer and noticibly better than a Raw match. Aguila's lucha highspots are nicely complimented by Daniels' US Pro steadiness, and while unfamiliarity keeps this from being the match it might have been it's still pretty good. Tajiri gets involved at one point, tripping Aguila, as they do a little angle to build heat for the finals of the tourney. His attempt to hold him for a Daniels pescado goes wrong though, as Aguila escapes, the heels collide, and Aguila takes them both out with a nice tope. Cut to the finish as Daniels gets crotched and Aguila gets the Firebird for 3. ** ¾-ish.

11. Mr. Aguila vs. Tajiri This is the finals. Aguila offers a handshake, and Tajiri, like a good heel, grabs it and kicks him in the gut. The match is a nice long one, starting with Tajiri dominating, and there's a lot of little psychology relating to people either going for the same move twice or for some move earlier than it should be attempted. Aguila hits a really nice twisting pescado, causing Tajiri to do everyone's favorite heel shtick, the Fake Knee Injury Which Sucks The Babyface In. Tajiri works the knee for a bit, but Aguila is in control as we return from commercial. Inside the ring, after a brief brawl on the floor, they do a really nice reversal sequence and some good near-falls off of Tajiri's offense. Aguila misses the Firebird (he hit it on everyone else, underlining here the import of this being the finals and his opponent being good enough to make it here), Tajiri gets the piledriver, but doesn't cover and instead goes for a moonsault which misses. Aguila hits a superplex and a Shooting Star Press for the win, in the best match of the show. ***. Nice bits of psychology concluding with Tajiri's "heel arrogance costs him the win" stalling after the piledriver, combined with nice spots and fluid work as these things go.

Overall: Well, it isn't anything special; the peak match is ***, and the lineup might as well be to crown the King of Jakked as anything else. But, most of the matches are fun in a very Raw-midcard sort of way, (though most are slightly above that level) and there are a fair number of "I wonder how those two would work together" matchups. Absolutely unessential, but a perfectly decent way to spend an hour and a half. Don't go out of your way to get it, but as a throw in on a trade you could do worse.

IWGP Junior Heavyweight Title History Commercial Tape Part One
by Alex Carnevale

Last Wednesday I ran down the stairs and to my delight I found Pure Dynamite at my doorstep. I ordered it from Amazon and had sort of given up on getting it. I don't know if the book was better than Foley's first book, but it's more interesting on a few levels. For one, Billington knows all about steroid use, painkiller use and drug use because he was practically in the middle of it all. And also, Billington is no longer in the business, and Foley is. Furthermore, I found the discussion of the WWF in that time peroid more interesting than the regional promotion and the indy Japanese promotions Foley worked for. Billington's book is a great read from start to finish, and although he comes off like an asshole, I'd take him over the fucking Rougeaus any day. Fucking Rougeaus. I scorn those lamb-bakers.

1. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Jose Estrada (1.23.78) WWWF Jr Heavyweight Title This is just a huge match, historically speaking. It's from Madison Square Garden, and it's Fujinami winning the WWWF Junior Heavyweight Title over Jose Estrada and beginning an era. After the match, Fujinami gets the first standing ovation that a Japanese wrestler ever got in MSG. Estrada is a good worker but Fujinami is clearly the superstar in this match-up. The match is years and years ahead of its time for America, as it's very technico v. rudo oriented and there's a lot of groundbreaking stuff, including off the top rope bumps and a dragon suplex (!) that gives the title to Fujinami. This match looked real good.

Fujinami talks about the debut of the dragon suplex in this match.

Between the matches, Fujinami is in the studio. When he was younger he looked like he was on steroids, with just a lot of bulk on his frame. You can see the wear and tear on his face as he grew older. But he is just ripped as a kid.

Still photos of Fujinami's first title reign.

2. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Ryuma Go (7.27.78) WWWF Junior Heavyweight Title I don't know much about Ryuma Go except that he left NJ to form the first splinter indie in the history of puroresu at some point down the road. I'd imagine that Go's federation was a shoot-style fed from the way the match is being wrassled in the early going. Lot of matwork, and Fujinami is not afraid to work the leg. Fujinami breaks out a nasty piledriver and these two work extremely stiff. Fujinami invents the Òyou-German-suplex-me-and-I'll-put-my-foot-on-the-rope-to-stop-the-count- spotÓ that Liger and Ohtani would steal for one of their '96 classics. Fujinami would use that near-finish in a lot of his matches. The match ends as Go misses an Ultimate Warrior splash and gets German suplexed for the pinfall. It doesn't take ten of them in 1978, I guess. These guys get a rematch later on the tape that's better.

Oh, if the matches get long enough, I'll rate them. If they don't, I won't.

3. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Mando Guerrero (8.4.78) This is the main event of whatever card it was on. In Dynamite Kid's book, he talks about wrestling Hector & Mando Guerrero in New Zealand with Davey Boy as his partner. They knocked the Guerreros' on their ass bloody fucking quickly, and the Guerrero boys didn't want to wrestle them for the rest of the tour. The mat itself has no real give to it, which is weird to see after looking at the bouncing rings for so long. Match isn't as good as the first two, but it ends with a German suplex.

These matches are by and large taking place in the US. It would appear Fujinami was on some kind of tour to wrestle regional champions. The crowd was pretty huge.

4. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Ray Mendoza (8.13.78) Ray Mendoz wrestles in a tee-shirt. Not much can be said for him except that he breaks out a relatively choice brainbuster and a rarely sen outside of the Mind Games vrawk abdominal stretch roll-up. Fujinami takes this match with a pinning predicament I once saw Chris 'Y2J' Jericho use. Again, Fujinami will reuse this finish a hundred times on the tape.

5. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Perro Aguayo (4.5.79) Aguayo accidentally debuts the Tiger suplex in this match by falling back on the hold. This match reminds me how stiff the junior style was before it took a turn for the spottier. These guys don't seem to get along too well in the ring, as there are a lot of points where they seem unwilling to sell for each other's moves. Aguayo breaks out a second rope senton as Fujinami tries to get out of the way. He tries it agian and misses. A blown dragon suplex that drops Aguayo on his head in slow-mo finishes the match, which I think was actually a time-limit draw.

6. Gran Hamada v. Whoever (UWA Junior Heavyweight title) This match is extremely high paced and is included for no reason I can discern. Of course it slows down majorly with a long resthold in the middle. This match is paced about as well as Bagwell-Booker T was on RAW last week. Gran Hamada sill looks as old here as he does today. Some uncalled for bumps in this one. Match picks up at the end with some good near falls until Hamada wins with a victory roll. No idea why they included this one - maybe to include parallel juniors action of the time.

7. Tatsumi Fujinami v. El Canek (6.7.79) WWF El Canek is a masked dude who got really bad in Mexico once he deteriorated but he's pretty much rocking it here. Canek is a big guy and he's dropkicking you and plancha-ing you all over the place. Fujinami tries to rip off Canek's mask at one point. Fujinami, not to be one upped, kills himself with a better-than-Crash-Holly tope. Canek whips out a Northern Lights Brainbuster and Fujinami bleeds hardway. The mask is half off in front. Canek brutalizes Fujinami's leg so badly he rips off Fujinami's shoe and beats it with that. He further smashes the thing on the concrete, but not before breaking off the second plancha of the match. Canek tries a bulldog, gets pushed off, goes to the second rope, but comes off into a Fujinami dropkick in the stomach for three. ***1/4 Really excellent match for what we saw of it, astonishingly good for the time. I'd like to see some more of Canek.

8. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Mark Rocco (6.15.79) WWF Rocco is Harley Race crossed with Ted DiBiase only he's a lightweight. Actually, he's nothing like that description. He later donned a mask to play Black Tiger, so this isn't the last we'll see of him on the tape. Rocco does a Flair/Shawn bump up the turnbuckle into the tree of woe and I'm shocked when he doesn't follow it up with a running kick to the face. Fujinami misses a dropkick - which is how a lot of the tide turns in these matches and Rocco takes the opportunity to plant his lega in a surfboard. He moves it into a surfboard and bridges it into a pin attempt. Good good. Flying bodypress from Rocco for two. Fujinami whips out the Jericho roll-up that he used previously to take the victory. Uhhh, good enough.

The music they play in between clips reminds me a lot of early 90s WWF theme music.

9. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Ryuma Go (10.2.79) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title Fujinami plays the rudo in this match, which is a weird switch for him. Fujinami drops himself on his head with a plancha early on. They say today's wrestlers are out to kill themselves? Ryuma breaks out the German suplex with a bridge but Fujinami put his feet on the ropes. Fujinami and Go do an awesome roll-up sequence and then Go drops the infernal backslide on him for the pinfall to win his first and only WWF Junior Heavweight title.

Fujinami won the title back from him on 10.4.79, that's all there is to it. Fujinami is in the studio talking about it.

10. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Kengo Kimura (12.13.79) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title Kimura I don't know but he's regular looking guy who is not afraid to drop Fujinami on his head in the opening minutes of the match. That backdrop suplex was uncalled for. You know what I'm talking about. Super fast mirroring of moves segement helps us out. Kimura unleashes the requisite plancha, and we're all a bit stultified by this turn of events. Another backdrop suplex. Well, if you do something well. Gutwrench suplex by Kimura hurts me physically. Good lord, Kimura backdrop suplexes Fujinami on the FLOOR. What is this, Japan fifteen years later? Butterfly brainbuster for two??? Who is this Kimura and where else can I see him? Backbreaker for two. Kimura tries another backdrop suplex, but Steve Williams shakes his head at ringside. Kimura goes for the octupus, but here's Tajiri for the run in. Fujinami reaches the ropes and is still fighting the backdrop suplex. Fujinami with the German...1, 2 - foot on the ropes! Sick looking piledriver scores the pinfall for Fujinami. Brutal match. ****

Fujinami doesn't get a lot of credit from what I hear, but he was pretty awesome if these matches are any indication.

This is end to this part of the tape. The first part was a necessary documentation of Fujinami's first title reign and the introduction of junior heavyweight wrestling to the world. It would be Tiger Mask who changed the jr. heavyweight division in the world forever, but Fujinami maybe doesn't get all the credit he deserves. He was a tremendous wrestler.

11. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Steve Keirn (2.1.80) NWA International Junior Heavyweight Title Steve Keirn later turned into the second Doink and played Skinner in the WWF. All I can remember is Skinner jobbing to Owen Hart in like five seconds at WM VIII. Keirn is also a pretty well-known trainer, having trained DDP and other at the gym he owns with B. Brian Blair. This is a unification match for the WWF and NWA Junior Heavyweight titles, and it's another relatively historic match. Keirn tries to open Fujinami up hardway at the very beginning and succeeds brilliantly. The ref even momentarily stops the match. The match itself is kind of savage, as Kerin is losing the title and is given full reign to abuse his opponent. He whips out a piledriver in the opening minutes of the match. Vertical suplex for two. Dudley Dawg attempt, but Fujinami reverses. German suplex wins it out of nowhere for Fujinami. Not quite enough to rate but included for its historic signifigance.

That was the opener to part two, which continues with a match I've never seen and anticipate like a schoolchild waiting for a fudgsicle on a mean summer day.

Dynamite Kid said of Fujinami in his book that the guy was a very good wrestler, but he didn't rate him as highly as some of his other opponents in Japan.

12. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Dynamite Kid (2.5.80) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title As the eighties began so did the Japanese career of Tom Billington, The Dynamite Kid. Kid looks tiny here compared to how much weight he would put on. Armdrag and European uppercuts start the match. The Kid tries an ill-advised version of the octupus. Fujinami, busted open, goes for the Dragon suplex, but Kid gets the ropes. He nails the UGLIEST headbutt off the top I've ever seen for two, landing right on Fujinami's face. Fujinami is tossed. Dynamite knocks him off the apron, but Fujinami comes in with a sunset flip for two. Bodyslam, and Dynamite misses a second headbutt. He doesn't even brace himself. Dynamite bleeds hardway. Dropkick, amnd Billington rolls out. Fujinami tries to follow with a suicidal plancha. Dynamite tries to bring him in witha powerbomb. That would have been cool. Jericho-bridge gets the pinfall, but Dynamite punks him out after the match. ***1/2 Dynamite is twice as suicidal as Benoit. In reality, he and Foley were the only ones who could make their opponents look *that* good.

13. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Fishman (4.13.80) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title This looks to be at some kind of outdoor arena. Fishman breaks out a bulldog in the early going and tries another one. Plancha to the outside, where Fishman lands on wooden planks instead of mats. This match is spot-rest-spot-rest, having no flow whatsoever. Definitely the worst match on the tape.

Pointless inclusion here.

14. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Chavo Guerrero (8.9.80) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title Wow, it looks like they are running Shea Stadium here because the wrestling ring is just planted on the baseball field. Chavo Guerrero isn't a quarter of the worker his son is. There is a approximately no crowd response for the match. I mean, everyone is dead silent until Fujinami breaks out a tope onto the baseball field. Never seen that before, never will again. Chavo stops himself on a tope Crash Holly-style. Fujinami puts Chavo in a fireman's carry. The repetitiveness of Fujinami's matches are being to get to me. As usual, the Jericho-bridge purloins the three-count for Fujinami. Besides the weirdness of stowing a match in Shea, this was largely pointless.

15. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Kengo Kimura (9.25.80) NWA Junior Heavyweight Title All right, good to see these two getting back into it. Lots of lots of mat-wrestling to start. Okay, it was only a minute but because the matches are clipped it feels oh so much longer. They blow a spot, and do something else. Kimura does an awesome bridge into a mind-blowingly awesome piledriver that drags this match out of my doghouse. I' m a mark for the ole skullcracker. The rest of the match is contrived and formulaic and not worth describing. Fujinami bleeds, what a f'n surprise. Kimura comes off the top rope and netiher man can answer the ten count. Tremendous. This paled to their previous match on the tape in a lotta ways.

At this point Fujinami vacated the NWA Jr. Heavyweight Title. And how AWESOME was the RVD/Kidman v. X-Pac/Jeff Hardy match from SmackDown? Sorry.

Ron Starr is pretty athletic and good. Think of an 80s version of Rob Van Dam. He also bumps around for Fujinami like a young Sean Waltman. This match is pretty good, but ends in a double countout after a backdrop suplex on the outside - Fujinami stops Starr from getting into the ring to cover, I guess. Weird awful ending, I'm surprised Dusty didn't recycle it.

16. Tatsumi Fujinami v. Ron Starr (9.30.80) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title The opponent is a white guy with stars on his tights, so that's all there is to say there. Starr whips out a Darryl-quality bump on an armdrag, so there's also that. Starr seems to specialize in a lot of lame 80s offense (sleeper, bodyslam), so you know what this match entails. God knows why they show so much of this shit, but they do. Crowd appears to be saying by their silence that they've taken better shits than this match. Fujinami wins with a Boston crab. Uhhh... 1/2*

Now here's Jushin Liger in the studio. You know, I have a friend who speaks Japanese - I really should have kissed his ass more.

17. Tatsumi Fujinami v. El Solitario (9.23.81) WWF Junior Heavyweight Title Oh man, Fujinami is dressed in a cowboy hat for his entrance. I don't know who El Solitario is and I'll be damned if I'm going to find out. It's late and this match is moving at a far too fast pace for my inclination. I don't pay much attention to the match - what's that you say? I'm supposed to be REVIEWING this tape? Blow guys eventually blow up and start doing nothing in the ring to compensate. Backdrop! Dropkick! Plancha! Then come a lot of brainbusters, and Fujinami finally wins it clean with one. Everybody shakes hands afterwards.

Fujinami vacates WWF Title in December of 1981, moving up to the heavyweight division and doing something Liger could never do because of his size.

END OF PART ONE. The first match on the next part is Tiger Mask v. Dynamite Kid. Do not fucking miss it. This part was pretty decent but the best was yet to come.

Various Matches from WWF Is Cobo
by Digable James Cobo

I'm pretty well-known as a non-fan of the WWF, but I figured "fuck it; I'll give 'em another shot". After all, the worst I have to risk is Bad Wrestling, and I've seen Tarzan Goto vs. Yoji Anjo AND Sid Vicious vs. The Nightstalker, so it'll take a lot to make me puke. So when Alex came around inquiring about picking up the RC comps, I asked if he had a few WWF matches and, yep, he did, and I picked 'em on up, in the form of the WWF Is Cobo comp. I was planning to review the whole thing, but then I got tied up in the Monster GAEA Project and that's where things are right now. But I did pick out a few matches from the tape, though.

1. Steve Austin vs. Hunter Hearst Helmsley (2/3 Falls Match, No Way Out) Considering how very, very good some of the aspects of this match were, it's pretty astounding how unfulfilling it is. I'll be the first to admit that there were some really, really great things about this match that aren't traditionally great about WWF matches - the selling, especially HHH's, was damn near AJPWesque in its attention to detail at times, and the use of brawling to convey deep hatred (like all that brawling in the "wrestling" fall) - but individual characteristics by themselves, no matter how distinctive, don't make a match anything more than "good". To be GREAT, the match needs to stay focused the whole time, and that just didn't happen here. The match would seemingly go off in a set direction, like HHH working Austin's back in the first fall, but then veer off abruptly in a different one, which happened when HHH just decided to start working Austin's leg. Really, though, that kind of unfocused psychology was almost to be expected, what with the booking of the match. A straight 2/3 falls match would have made a lot more sense, and Austin and HHH probably would have had a better match for it, mostly because they wouldn't have to make each fall so unique.

But it's a poor excuse to put the blame for the directionless nature of this match entirely on the stipulations. A good deal of it simply comes from the type of wrestling they were trying to go for: a wild brawl with significant scientific undertones. Great in theory, but unimpressive in reality. The best-kept secret about the high-end WWF workers is that in almost %99 of the cases, they can only really do one thing well at once. HHH is great at focused brawling, but when he takes his mind off it, he starts to fade a little. Austin can brawl like a motherfucker, or keep his head in the scientific clouds, or a bunch of other things - but when he mixes and matches, his wrestling suffers. It's all tied into how they wrestle as their characters - WWF stories are best acted out by single-minded representations, so when they try to deviate wildly from their character's M.O. or introduce stuff that makes ARTISTIC sense but not CHARACTER sense into the matches, everything gets all weird. Compare this match to HHH/Cactus Jack from the 2000 Rumble, where both Levesque and Foley had nothing in their minds but what their characters would do and how they'd do it. It just doesn't match up.

And nothing better illustrates the loss of focus than the third fall, where EVERYTHING goes to shit. The first fall was really interesting and well-laid-out, with a bunch of credible falls; the second had a lot of brawling stuff that just looked like they were doing it to rest up, but managed to retain some modicum of storytelling and attention to detail, but in the third one, everything went to hell. HHH's selling, which had been nothing short of breathtaking to that point (almost like he took a page from Misawa's selling in Misawa/Kawada 1/20/97, his injured arm changed EVERYTHING about his game), suddenly became "Eh, I'll sell what I want to", and Austin's monomania (to injure HHH) fell apart into survival instincts, which not only hurt Austin's then-character, but didn't make a LICK of sense in the context of the finish. It's just a poor way to resolve the match (like they'd booked themselves into a corner with the match and couldn't come up with a way to get out of it), it hurt the definitive nature of the stip, and looked all sloppy to boot.

I've heard this match called *****, and I just can't see it. By my count, it's ***1/2 tops; it's very good in parts, and has a lot of stuff that I really wish they'd have played out more, but the whole package is unfulfilling, with the endemic third fall being the proverbial roach in the middle of your ice cream. Still, worth seeing, if only to see what all the fuss is about.

IIRC, the Mike Bell Incident was in here somewhere, and LITTLE BABY JESUS did he ever take a beating.

2. Steve Austin/HHH vs. Chris Benoit/Chris Jericho (RAW) I remember being actively pissed at my WWFatwa when I heard the monsoon of praise being heaped on this match, but watching it now, three months after the fact, I can't really understand why. I think my problem with it lies largely in the fact that I went on a early '90s WCW binge earlier in the summer, and when you stack this up next to other Golden Age WCW tags like Steiners/MVC or Dangerous Alliance stuff, it just doesn't hold up. Watching it, it felt like all four guys - four WCW alumni, by the way - were doing their best impression of a NWA match instead of actually wrestling one. The work was there - it was one of the crispest matches I've seen on WWF TV in my life - and the booking was there, but the face-heel roles were all fucked up. The problem lay mostly in the way that Austin/HHH had been handled prior to the match; Austin still had significant sentiment remaining from his epic babyface run, and HHH's sudden turn seemed to leave the fans flat. As a result, the fans reacted like Benoit and Jericho won the tag titles - not like they won the tag titles from Austin and HHH. I think it's fair speculation to say that while they wouldn't have popped as exuberantly had the pair won them from, say, the Undertaker and Kane, but I think that it would have been less pronounced than you'd think. In comparison, watch the Potato Incident where Cactus Jack takes eighty near-shoot punches to the face from Vader and gets the countout win; the fans explode because he beat Vader. If he'd beaten, say, ANYONE ELSE IN THE FED AT THE TIME, it wouldn't have been shit.

So that only leaves the relative performances in the match itself to judge. And in all fairness, the performances were pretty great across the board. Ironically, I think Jericho put on the best show; he seemed to be working very crisply and hit his spots more crisply than I'd seen him hit them pretty much in his entire WWF tenure. Benoit probably came in second, working WICKED stiff, and showing off that sense of timing that separates the greats from the goods (watch how he kicks out of pinfalls and breaks them up - there's real drama there, and he adds dimensions in HOW he does it, too). He also had possibly the most over move in the match - the Crossface, which warms my heart immensely. HHH and Austin were certainly way beyond competant, but really, their role was that of Cheap Cheatin' Heels; all they really HAD to do was double-team the babyfaces and cut the ring in half, and that's all they REALLY ended up doing. But if I didn't mention HHH's horrific-looking injury (I watched it on slow-mo - there's this HUGE lump in his leg that just appears after they cut back to his and Jericho's portion), I'd be remiss.

When Stone Cold Steve Austin, smack dab in the middle of the hottest run of his career - flaws and all - is the weakest participant in the match, it's a safe bet that the match is pretty freaking good. And it is; I'd call it about ***1/2. But if you got this match on a PPV, which a lot of people were saying, you'd be PIIIIIIIIIIIISSED. It's a neat thing to see, but it just doesn't cut the mustard any more.

3. Chris Jericho vs. Chris Benoit (ladder match, Royal Rumble) I'm not going to lie: there were some cool spots in this match. The Walls of Jericho on the ladder looked really cool; the counter to Benoit's pescado looked really cool; Benoit getting dumped out of the ring looked really cool. But even two wrestlers as good as Benoit and, to a lesser extent, Jericho couldn't overcome the limitations of the stip. And I don't mean that they couldn't overcome the limitations of the ladder match, because in theory the ladder match is a great gimmick that literally shows you the struggle of a feud and the clear demonstration of superiority. No, I'm talking about the perverse new beast that the ladder match has become ever since TLC came to town. These days, there isn't an inherent story present in the ladder match any more - it's essentially viewed as a regularprops that people can jump off of in creative ways, just with a different way to win that only comes when everyone else wears themselves out. This match should have been either a return to form for the ladder match or a reinvention, but instead...nothing. When Chris Benoit, one of the best wrestlers of the '90s in terms of transitions and pacing, starts jumping up after spots, no-selling entire SEQUENCES, something's wrong. Of course, because of the discrepancy between Benoit's style and the nu-ladder-match style, Jericho came out looking like the better wrestler despite performing less crisply and stiffly.

Really, there's not much else to say. It wasn't a good match, despite the presence of some good spots and some really stiff strikes. I'd rate it at about **1/4. But you know how I'm always saying that such-and-such a rating is technically correct, but doesn't reflect how much fun the match was? Well **1/4 doesn't reflect how painful this match was, either.

That's all I've got. I'll try to watch the rest and get it done in time for the next Digest.

MUTOH~!
by Brendan "Shaddax" Welsh-Balliett

"It's a secret society, oh yes it's true!"- Jay-Z

It sure as hell wasn't what the man was talking about, but that might be a proper description of the elites of the wrestling game in Japan; a small cadre, a collection of the true greats likely to be revered by their successors for years to come. Some names outlive their era to become icons of the form that spawned them, and which they themselves later crafted and influenced: the years may pass, but it will be a long while before Rikidozan, Antonio Inoki, Giant Baba, Jumbo Tsuruta, Tatsumi Fujinami, Dynamite Kid, Riki Chosyu, Genichiro Tenryu and a select few others are forgotten.

For Keiji Mutoh, his career has in some part been marked by the what-might-have-beens; though nearly all accord him, rightfully, acknowledgement as a top performer based on his headlining role in New Japan over the past decade, the questions of what his talent could have wrought had circumstances been different is brought up time and again when his place in history is discussed. In terms of tools, Mutoh was a near-complete player at the start of his career; he had athleticism, intelligence in the ring, vast stores of personal physical charisma. And yet, as the years passed, the promise he showed never seemed to pan out entirely. Bad luck and a hard style wore down his knees and hobbled him; but more then that, it seemed that all too often Mutoh lacked perhaps the most important of tools: the will to greatness. It would be unfair to him, I think, to characterize him as "lazy", as is sometimes done; yet it is virtually undeniable that in the course of his career he has been content all too often to settle for what was easy, to work to the level of his opponent for good or ill, to be passive instead of taking hold of situations and striving for greatness. As a result, despite his being a headliner in the largest promotion in Japan for a decade, it would be difficult to place him alongside the greatest names in puroresu history. He lacks, in the end, the necessary credentials of consistent top performances.

Watching Keiji Mutoh this year, it's easy to believe that he knows this himself. And he isn't pleased by it. To call him revitalized in his performances in recent months would be to miss the mark; for he's not simply revitalized, he's nigh onto a different wrestler this year then he's been for the vast bulk of his career. At a time when he has, due to injuries and age, the largest store of excuses he's ever had to underperform (as, for instance, Masa Chono does regularly) he's putting forth more consistent effort then he has in the past, perhaps ever. He appears, for all intents and purposes, to be a man on a mission to do something with even the twilight of his career, maybe to make up for the things he's left undone before; for if nothing else, this co-promotional deal between New Japan and All Japan has offered to the wrestlers involved the chance to be a part of something truly historical. And none more so than Mutoh. I covered his match with Hiroshi Hase in my review of the 6/6 NJPW PPV, and James is set to bring you a look at his contest with Yuji Nagata in the finals of this years' G1 Climax tournament; but since I'm a huge fan of his work this year, I thought it'd be fun to take a look at two other major singles performances he's had this year, against Toshiaki Kawada earlier in the year, and against Genichiro Tenryu at All Japan's 6/8 Budokan card, for the Triple Crown.

1. Keiji Mutoh vs. Toshiaki Kawada This is from the earlier part of the year, months before Mutoh's recent run of great matches from June through August (and beyond, in all likelyhood); as such, it was the first hint that this Mutoh was a different beast then before. This took place on All Japan territory (as have a shockingly large number of important, big-drawing matches in this program), and the crowd before the bell is vocal in their support for their man; Mutoh receives a decent reaction, but the streamers fly and chants swirl for the familiar champion. The start of the match is reflective of the circumstances surrounding this contest: a staredown across the ring, each man peering out at the unknown quantity across from him. Both men enter the match as representatives of their promotion, but more so than, say, Booker T and the Rock ever could: for underlying this match is not just the reality of a true interpromotional feud (with two independent promotions involved), but the deep pride each man takes in the company he represents; neither have ever wrestled anywhere else regularly, and each are true emblematic figures for the styles and promotions they represent here. As such, the tension at the start is twofold: for each man seeks not just to represent his company in the larger battle, to overcome the opposing champion, but also to solve the riddle before him presented by his opponent; never have these men met in the ring before, and as such, to achieve their primary objective they must break down an opposing style and an unknown opponent.

The first several minutes of the match are thus devoted to feeling out, intimidation, and probing for weaknesses in the other; hands are slapped away, feints are made, taunts are directed subtly. The technique used is very basic, as each man tests the other: his skill level, how he will react. They move quickly to the inevitable "test of strikes" section, which neither man wins; but Mutoh is first to strike a major blow, as he takes Kawada down off of one of those strikes and lands the powerdrive elbow, forcing a look of pain onto the face of the usually expressionless Dangerous K. Mutoh follows up his advantage with chinlocks; in context, they're less a resthold than a piece of psychology, as it makes internal sense for Mutoh to press his advantage, but cautiously, using only simple techniques at first.

Yet, that is not enough to preserve his advantage, as Kawada hits a move that may best be described as an ugly cross between a belly-to-belly suplex and a backdrop; it appeared to be somewhat botched, probably the cost of the two men being unfamiliar with each other. Kawada follows up this turn of events with his own basic offense, attacking the neck, which Mutoh appeared to have suffered injury to from Kawada's throw. Knee drops and high kicks are used, and Kawada moves to a headscissors to maintain pressure. The hold is quickly broken in the ropes.

Again, Mutoh rises and the opponents contest with brutal strikes; but Kawada's attack has been effective, and Mutoh sinks to his knees under a rain of elbows and a brutal kick, clutching his neck. Kawada secures a 2 count from that, then returns to the point of attack with a chinlock of his own. As the hold is broken they brawl to the outside, but Mutoh can't follow up on any brief advantage he achieves; he seeks only to escape Kawada's attack on his neck. Inside, All Japan's man expands his attack, focusing now on the neck, now on the knee, breaking Mutoh down by focusing on the weaknesses he's shown and the weaknesses he's commonly known to have. Mutoh tries to fire back again and again, but Kawada's attack, though basic (slams, kicks) is targeted closely at his weaknesses. Kawada is the first to have solved his opponent somewhat, to have found a chink in the opposing man's armor. Finally, sensing Mutoh to be worn down, Kawada attempts the powerbomb; Mutoh backdrops out, but cannot follow up and Dangerous K levels him with two lariats and a strong high kick, striking again at the neck. Again, the powerbomb is attempted, and this time it connects yielding a 2 count. Mutoh is being worn down by Kawada's assault, and he rolls to the apron to find relief. Yet, Kawada will not relent, and a high kick sends the NJPW headliner to the floor in a heap. The story thus far is clear: Kawada has been first to solve his opponent, and his targeted, unceasing assault is well on the way towards breaking down Mutoh's ability to resist. On the floor, Mutoh goes for a chair, heeling for the AJPW crowd; the referee takes it from him, but it serves well enough to underline his desperation, as does Kawada's bird-of-prey-like swoop down on him as he reenters the ring.

Yet, at this point Mutoh seems to develop an idea, and he focuses himself to create the same targeted attack as Kawada. A dropkick to the knee connects, stunning the aggressor; a second to the arm fells him. For, going into this match, Kawada was in truth suffering from an arm injury for which e was soon to need surgery; but more than that, he had been selling such an injury for several days prior to this match on different show. Such an injury provided the perfect way for Mutoh to gain separation and begin his own offense anew; for now, like Kawada, he has "solved" his opponent and found weaknesses to exploit. Two more dropkicks to the knee connect, followed with a Dragon Screw. A counter enzuigiri connects for Kawada, but he's unable to follow up; and another dropkick to the knee puts him in position for the figure-four. No submission is forthcoming, as expected, but the damage is done nonetheless, and Mutoh focuses on the knee.

Kawada sneaks in a quick kick to the head though, putting both men down; a second leaping version gives him a 2 count, and now both men are into the phases of simply throwing their offense at the other, to see what, in the end, will prove stronger; both are vulnerable. Kawada applies the Stretch Plum, and gets a 2 count; but a following knee drop finds nothing but the mat and leaves Kawada down, clutching at his knee in pain. Mutoh assaults the arm again, mixing up his attack. A cross armbreaker again yields no submission. Several more dropkicks to the arm connect for Mutoh, but Kawada reverses his attempt at a ki lock into a cross armbreaker. The hold is broken in the ropes, and Kawada follows up with three lariats, selling the pain in the arm all the way. Yet, after each one, Mutoh simply pops back to his feet, the effectiveness of the move reduced. And now, Mutoh has Kawada where he wants him, in the bind which he's constructed. Kawada tries a fourth lariat, but Mutoh now sees it coming and blocks it; Kawada is forced to attempt the high kick, but Mutoh anticipates that move as well and is ready for it, catching the leg and administering a brutal Dragon Screw.

And that, in turn, gives Mutoh the opening he needs: the Shining Wizard connects on the worn-down Kawada, yielding a close 2 count. Another cover, as Kawada staggers across the mat and falls; another 2 count. Kawada tries a last desperate attempt to fend Mutoh off with strikes, but Mutoh walks through it to administer two more Shining Wizards, securing the pinfall at 24:20.

A fabulous match, good enough to be an outside MOTY contender, though probably not more than that this year. It has a very clear storyline of each man trying to break down an unfamiliar opponent and style, and the work quality necessary to support that story at a high level (bar a rather ugly last stage of the finish, as Mutoh hits two rather feeble Shining Wizards). Though this was in some ways the coming out party of the New Mutoh, he's easily out shone by Kawada; the latter's generally near-flawless work, superlative selling, skill in getting over story points in the body of the match and general skill carry the match at least partially. Mutoh, by contrast, seemed somewhat unsure of himself; the skill and drive that has characterized his recent work was there, yet he himself seemed to not fully trust it. Several times during the match, notably when he goes for the chair and during the figure-four, he resorts to goofy mannerisms and short cuts either to fill time or simply have something to do. It's not a major knock on him or the match by any means, but it combines with his general slight air of tentativeness to put this match a notch below his later, more confident and thus equivalent-with-his-opponents efforts in matches vs. Tenryu and Hase, among others. ****1/4.

2. Keiji Mutoh vs. Genichiro Tenryu (Triple Crown) Mutoh is first to enter, to the deeply-creepy-but-beautiful theme music he's currently using; the reaction from the crowd is immense to both him and Tenryu, the Triple Crown champion who had held the title since winning it in a tournament during the 2000 October Giant Series, defeating Kawada in the finals. The match itself begins with a wonderful sense of import, imparted by the reverence with which All Japan still treats their titles; the pre-match reading of the proclamation, the solemn handing over of the history-laden belts to an official, the throwing of streamers by the crowd, even. It's a bit of ceremony which ties this match into the long history of these titles, underlining both the importance of this contest and the historical significance of a New Japan wrestler competing for the Triple Crown.

And as quickly as the bell rings, the spell is gone, and things are in motion; Mutoh attacks quickly, landing two dropkicks on Tenryu and, as the older man tries to cover up and defend himself, a modified version of the Shining Wizard, dropping Tenryu to the canvas in dazed agony. Quickly, Mutoh connects on a side backbreaker and leaps, as well as he can, to the top rope, seemingly to complete his now seldom-used finishing combo with the moonsault that was his trademark in earlier days; it's too early for that though, and Tenryu quickly scuttles away across the mat. Yet already, something of the story of this match is constructed: both men are old, as wrestling counts a man, Tenryu in years and Mutoh perhaps older still, physically. Yet, both still strive to contend with men decades their juniors, either chronologically or in "mat-years", at the highest level. To do so, they must dig deep within themselves to find the energy and vigor of youth so well as they can, and join that to the depths of experience they both possess. The man most able to do so will, in all likelihood, prove the victor; for when both men possess skill and experience, the man with the spirit and strength to impose himself on his opponent will likely emerge with victory. At first, Mutoh takes the lead; fast out of the gate, and first to reach back for a proven technique out of his past that the years have since nearly robbed him of. He is not a man concerned with saving his knees for another day.

On the apron Tenryu collects himself, working the kinks from his neck and contemplating the situation before him. Inside, he controls Mutoh briefly with grappling and avoids the BATT leader's attempt to land a dropkick to the knee. Yet Mutoh soon counters this ploy and takes Tenryu down, landing the powerdrive elbow and following up with a chinlock; a high energy strike followed up with a veteran's attention to the fundamentals of wearing an opponent down, not giving him an opportunity to regain his balance once he is damaged. Tenryu counters out with a backdrop, still selling somewhat the effects of the Shining Wizard; yet he's unable to get any offense going, as Mutoh rolls under an attempted lariat and springs to his feet, to hit a dropkick and gain a quick 2 count, the first pin attempt of the match. Again, Mutoh's greater vigor keeps him dominant.

But quickly, the momentum shifts; Mutoh attempts the handspring elbow in the corner, and runs the back of his own head into the sole of Tenryu's boot. And this time, Tenryu makes his opportunity stick, following up with an enzuigiri for 1 and a quick powerbomb for 2, upping his own energy output to match Mutoh's and going for stronger, more powerful moves. Yet, instead of following up those moves with more of their ilk, he opts to utilize his vaunted chops; and thus he makes the same mistake as Mutoh did with the handspring, going to a trademark move the other man is sure to know. A rolling forward kick collapses Tenryu and sends him rolling to the floor. Both men show the Veteran's ability to capitalize on any opening afforded to them, yet to this point it is Mutoh in command of the match, utilizing quicker, more energetic offense.

Thus, an interesting point in the match is reached; as Tenryu lies outside the ring, Mutoh sits inside and holds his neck, sweat poring down his face, and his breath coming already in near-gasps. And, he looks about him: out to the seats of the Nippon Budokan, site of so many great matches and so much history for wrestling, a great deal of it tied to the belts he now contests for. And from that, he seems to draw strength; though he's already visibly physically drained, he appears to draw from the living history around him the will to find the strength needed to keep up his grasp at immortality. Perhaps I overanalyze; yet as Mutoh slowly draws himself from the canvas and hurls himself out to the floor with a pescado, I can't help but believe in the story I see; for the story they tell is not just of what it takes for men like them to still compete: it is also of why it is they would want to, of what drives them to draw from their bodies the effort needed to clutch at greatness in the twilight of their careers.

Inside the ring again, Mutoh keeps up the pressure; as Tenryu enters he is met with two leaping dropkicks to the knee. But, again, momentum quickly shifts as Mutoh attempts to bring the champion in with a suplex; Tenryu, marshalling his strength, reverses the move and sends Mutoh cascading to the floor. And this time, with this opportunity, Tenryu meets the challenge put forth by Mutoh, matching the energy and effort with which the challenger has dominated the match up to this point: he hurls himself at Mutoh through the ropes, landing the rarely seen Tenryu tope suicida. Yet, some things are not to be, whatever the effort put into them; Tenryu seems to suffer the greater part of the effects of his own move, clutching at his knee on the floor. And indeed, the betrayal of his body proves costly; for, delayed by the pain in the knee, he takes too long to regain the ring, allowing Mutoh to recover. And of this opportunity, Mutoh makes good use: grasping the champion as he stands on the apron, Mutoh executes a Dragon Screw legwhip that sends Tenryu hurtling to the floor in agony. And still more punishment follows, as Mutoh gathers his energy and executes another dropkick to the knee, this time from the apron to the floor.

Hurling Tenryu back inside, Mutoh again collects his energy and climbs the ropes. At the top he visibly gathers himself, and then strikes as Tenryu rises to his feet, again driving a kick at the champion's injured right knee. To the second rope now, and a double stomp to the knee lands. The awareness of opportunity is written on Mutoh's face, and he walks through a Tenryu chop to land another Dragon Screw, and then, inevitably, the figure-four. And yet, the move is not enough; Tenryu has still the will to resist and the strength to make it to the ropes. Mutoh tries to follow up; yet a Dragon Screw attempt is fought off with chops and again, Tenryu tries to rise to Mutoh's challenge: bad knee and all, he stuns Mutoh with a dropkick to the challenger's knee. Mutoh responds in kind, but it's no longer enough to dissuade and collapse Tenryu, who now puts forth all his effort: dropkick to the knee hits, Dragon Screw hits, and then Tenryu gets his own figure-four. Yet, Mutoh is no less indomitable than the champion, and the hold is broken in the ropes. Mutoh's knee dropkick misses, but Tenryu's hits; and now the momentum is clearly with the resurgent champion. A BRUTAL Tenryu chop drops Mutoh, and he soon finds himself locked into a Texas Cloverleaf (the AJPW announcer's call of this is not to be missed, as he cries "Texas Clover!" with an air of utter incredulity at what he's witnessing). Yet, again, as it did before, Tenryu's body fails him: he cannot maintain the hold, as his damaged knee collapses under him, freeing Mutoh. Yet Mutoh is by this time no less worn down; he cannot take advantage of the situation, and Tenryu recovers in time to re-mount his offense. He takes Mutoh to the top rope, and lands a two move combo of a German suplex from the height of the middle rope (with his legs tucked in the ropes to keep him seated on top) and an elbow drop from the top; it gets him a 2 count.

But things shift quickly again; as Tenryu rebounds lightly off the ropes, Mutoh summons the energy to land a desperate rana. Seemingly desperate, he tries for the Shining Wizard; but Tenryu blocks it, and lands his own devastating brainbuster for a close 2 count. The champion's energy peaks, even as Mutoh's wanes; indeed, the challenger sells the brainbuster as total devastation, slumping to the mat in a heap. Rising to his feet, Tenryu seems to draw from the crowd and the building as Mutoh did before; and staring out to the seats, he points up, signaling to the crowd his next move. Into the turnbuckle hard goes Mutoh, and suffers a brutal striking assault from the champion of hard chops and stiff punches. Up the ropes they go, and Tenryu points upwards once again, then goes for broke: he connects on a rana from the top rope, dropping Mutoh in a spent heap in the ring. Yet even this is not enough, as Mutoh finds the strength within himself to kick out at 2.

And then, in a perfect moment for the story of the match, Mutoh simply RISES. Like the indomitable warrior he is here, he climbs to his feet with a guttural cry of pure refusal, refusal to give in to anything Tenryu has thrown at him, or to the limits of his own endurance. Tenryu is no fool, and seeing this he quickly goes for the Northern Lights Bomb, his big finisher; the internal logic of the match says nothing short of the best the champion has to offer might serve to break the spirit Mutoh has here, and this sequence fits that perfectly. Moreover, the NLB has been successful in the past in securing pinfalls for Tenryu over Mutoh. Yet the move never hits; As Tenryu lifts Mutoh for the move, the challenger strikes out with a knee to the head which connects and drops the champion. A proper Shining Wizard it's not, but the psychological value invested in Mutoh's knees gives it power. Both men rise, and strike out at each other; but it is Mutoh who finds the strength to throw at his opponent the greater move, a backflipping knee to the head that levels Tenryu. And more then that, it places Tenryu in position for the Shining Wizard, which Mutoh quickly lands; but not so easily is the spirit of a champion quenched, and the move yields only a 2 count. A second stiff knee to the head connects, and still it's not enough; a quick 2 count, Tenryu barely escaping. A second cover, another 2 count. And now, Mutoh must draw from himself the strength to land the one move that will put away Tenryu. For it is not by the conservative tools of latter days that he will be able to grab old of the greatness before him; to quench the burning desire and ageless strength in Tenryu, he must surpass it with his own.

Backbreaker. Moonsault. At 23:24, nearly with tears in his eyes from pain and exertion as he covers Tenryu, Keiji Mutoh becomes Triple Crown champion. He kneels in the ring to kiss the belts, the justification for all that he has done. The crowd chants his name in appreciation as he limps out, pain written on his face behind his smile.

What is to be said of such a match? To talk of the psychology or work rate, or hand out a star rating, seems almost superfluous; the match is not about technical excellence, though it surely does not fail on that point. The purpose instead is simply to tell a story, one grounded in the reality of what these two men face, elder statesmen in a young man's game. For either of them to perform as they do, Tenryu as a consistently excellent worker despite his age and Mutoh as a man possessed this year, on some sort of inner quest to change his legacy, requires each night an immense exertion of will. To defy the years and the brutal, wearing, pain of bump after bump, match after match, in the face of the agony in their own bodies, is no small task; and so too, it is no small subject for the art which these men create. For this is indeed art, the art of the middle-aged man who feels his time slipping, a lifetime piling up; and who wishes to do more yet, to fight against the time and tide for one more match, one more title. If the fundamental story of professional wrestling is the contest of wills, the clash of desires, this is the version of it suited to and created by men who strive to last every moment they can, who see their end coming but resist it to the last. For these men strive less against each other, and more against themselves; forging their wills into steel and adamant, struggling against pain and age to hold on to their greatness. They tell the story of the struggle of man's will against his instinct, and in that, there's something beautiful.

Call it ****1/2 for the sake of argument, but the greatness of this match isn't reducible to component parts; it resides instead in the story told as a whole. So, while move-for-move this is hardly the best this year, as a composite whole I'm not sure I've seen its equal in another match this calendar year.

Keiji Mutoh vs. Yuji Nagata - 8/12/01, NJPW
by Digable James Cobo

One year ago, this would have been pretty high up on the card, but not necessarily even the main. A year ago, Keiji Mutoh was just another broken-down guy from the early '90s, living off his rapidly-fading past triumphs. A year ago, Yuji Nagata was showing a lot of potential, but not a lot of fire; his matches looked like the work of someone who's supremely capable being misused. Hell, a year ago, nobody really cared too much about NJPW in general: it was a festering stinkpit of politics ruling the roost and lazy wrestlers half-assing their already half-assed performances.

Oh, what a difference a year makes.

NJPW has been, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the best wrestling organization on the planet since teaming up with All Japan late last year. It's put the fire back into the fed in the place where nobody ever expected to see it - in the heavyweight division, simply by foregrounding it. After all, all you have to do is put the spotlight on someone and see what they do. And in the case of Yuji Nagata and Keiji Mutoh, they shone as brightly as someone can shine.

Mutoh, for instance, had been deemed a lazy wrestler for years - really, ever since having a bad match with Mid-90s Nobuhiko Takada (which is no small feat) back in 1996. He'd started to hit middle age, which is the wrestling equivalent of wearing Depends. And his knees just kept on going south. But once strongstyle started coming back with the Kawada invasion, Mutoh had a reason to start showing up - and boy howdy, did he show up. His matches became this weird hybrid of old-school building strategies and the highest-end state-of-the-art heavy moves (most notably his Shining Wizard step-kneestrike, modeled after the knees-to-the-head that Vanderlei Silva used to knock out Kazushi Sakuraba at PRIDE 13), and all of a sudden Keiji Mutoh was arguably the most compelling wrestler in puroresu.

And if it wasn't him, it was Yuji Nagata. Given a chance to finally shine on a top-level scale, Nagata suddenly became the most consistent wrestler in puroresu (as compared to Mutoh, who worked a reduced schedule to accomodate his age and knees). His coming-out party was winning the 2000 G-1 Tag League, where he teamed with Tayashi Iizuka and set up the famous tag at the 12/14/00 PPV against Toshiaki Kawada and Masa Fuchi, and from then on, it was just gravy. Nagata's natural athleticism, combined with surging popularity due to his representation of both NJPW and his division being put out front just clicked; he became one of the five best workers in the world, the kind of talent who actually raises the effort of those around him (see Manabu Nakanishi).

Naturally, with two workers obviously peaking concurrently, it only made sense to have them meet in the finals of the G-1 tourney, NJPW's annual round-robin tourney. And considering that for a good long while, NJPW was a great example of where to look when you want to define "booking by politics", it is to their immense credit that they actually went through with it.

Now, with two workers like these, expectations for the quality of the match were, shall we say, through the roof. But there was more at stake. The feud with AJPW, which seemed to die quietly around February, had roared back into life when Mutoh won AJPW's prized possession, the Triple Crown, from Gen'chiro Tenryu in June. Obviously, this was a huge act of faith on the part of All Japan, and there was severe pressure to keep Mutoh strong for his eventual jobbing of the title back to AJPW (presumably to Toshiaki Kawada at their match next month). But of course, kowtowing to AJPW's wishes would mean sacrificing one of their most promising prospects; Nagata had always had a following, but in 2001, his "Fighting Club G-Eggs" - a group brought about to combat Masa Chono's Team-2000 - had the crowds solidly behind him.

But even more than that, it was a legitimate chance to see a "passing of the torch". Keiji Mutoh, one of the preeminant stars of puroresu throughout the 1990s, a man who had won titles and tournaments by the carload, a man who possesses such great drawing power that a recent MPro show pulled in one of the largest crowds in fed history to see him debut a new character... would he be man enough to lay down? Or would we be thrown back into the dark ages of NJPW, with the booking by politics and so on?

No. No we wouldn't. Because Yuji Nagata won the match.

I feel comfortable telling you the outcome before I even dive into what makes the match worthwhile or not because quite simply, that last sentence IS the match. For twenty-two minutes, Yuji Nagata and Keiji Mutoh wrestled...but for about eleven of them, it was Nagata's match to lose.

The match started off fairly normally - open with matwork trying to take out your opponent's finisher, with Nagata specifically targeting Mutoh's leg to neutralize the Shining Wizard. They exchange some big standup moves, teased finishers, and so on - just your everyday, normal opening to a well-planned out match. They were just checking all their options and seeing which one would have the most impact on the other, and when nothing particularly rang true, they moved on to the next option.

And then Nagata put on the Nagata Lock 2.

It's better known in America as the Crippler Crossface, and thanks to the WWF getting it over as a familiar, effective submissions move, there's a chance that I can actuall convey what Keiji Mutoh did: He saw the end of the line.

It doesn't make sense, of course. The Nagata Lock 1 (a sort of Figure 4 variation) would have made more sense: it looks crisper, Nagata gets to do his salute thing (which is his equivalent of the Rock standing over the guy before dropping the Elbow), it works Mutoh's Oatmeal Knees, and even if it doesn't put Mutoh away, it lessens the chance that he'll pop up and do a Shining Wizard. But all of that - that's actually the beauty of the situation. It works best because it comes out of left field, both in terms of the match and the story being told. Mutoh and Nagata were having a regular old - very good - match, when all of a sudden, the years of Mutoh running up the ropes and moonsaulting off, of spilling kegs of blood, of not giving up...all of that caught up with him the moment Nagata locked on the NL2. It's a heartbreaking thing to see; for a few seconds, Mutoh just sits there in the hold, emoting "What the holy hell is this?" before FRANTICALLY trying to get away, and for the rest of the match, FRANTICALLY trying to keep away from that move. He'd obviously scouted Nagata as much as the law would allow, but no amount of preparation had prepared him for his body's sudden and total inability to cope.

The rest of the match, then, is just Mutoh delaying the inevitable, because Nagata smells blood in the water, and he's just waiting for Mutoh to let his guard down for that split second. But Mutoh, cagey vet that he is, realizes that Nagata can't slip the hold on him if he's been worn down, so he summons every ounce of strength left in his carcass and starts TAKING IT TO HIM. He starts busting out moves that otherwise would get him the win but even the Shining Wizard (which has been his most trustworthy move throughout the G-1) and the moonsault (which he used to put away Tenryu to win the TC) weren't enough. It was clear that he was facing another type of opponent here - he was facing the young, fire-in-the-eyes veteran that he used to be.

But of course, it's a different story for Nagata. Whereas the elevator carrying Mutoh's going down, his is going up...but he's had problems on the way up before. Most notably here, even though Mutoh's knees are notoriously bad, plus Nagata had been working on them all throughout the first portion of the match, plus he'd been using them all match for the Shining Wizards and the moonsaults and such - despite all that, Mutoh still wouldn't give up to the Nagata Lock 1. And it's not like the Wizards and moonsaults weren't taking their toll; there were definitely moments when it looked like Nagata was exceedingly vulnerable.

In the end, though, it was youth's day in the sun. Nagata locked on the NL2, and after a few seconds of hesitation and trying to see if he could fight out, Mutoh tapped, and the crowd - both the ones in attendance and me on the floor - exploded in glee. It was a definite moment where NJPW saw their torch get passed along, and for once they did it right. It was a fantastically emotional, significant moment, very reminiscent of when Mutoh beat Chono in the finals of the 1991 G-1. But it was a fantastically emotional significant moment that came at the end of a match with some definite flaws.

If you watch this match and ignore the storytelling aspects of it, then you'll see a match where Keiji Mutoh no-sells a whole lot. It's a very unfortunate fact of the match; no matter how much it helps the match dramatically to have Mutoh pop up after the NL1 and start doing knee-intensive moves, it doesn't make logical sense. It makes the match somewhat cartoonish, and removes it from what it was going for - a match that becomes like a crucible, where two careers turn in one match. I'm a huge fan of this match, and I've got no way to justify it. It's rooted in the fact that, like Kenta Kobashi before him, Keiji Mutoh is less a logical wrestler and more a dramatic one, prone to doing things to make the drama of the match apparent to the crowd (viz. any match Kenta Kobashi worked after 1997 - and for the record, I'm a Kobashi fan, too). But it does fit into the story, of Mutoh using every drop of gas left in the tank to try to pull out the miracle win. So it just becomes a question of whether you're willing to sublimate the logical flaws to see a story or not.

There's also the fact that the first eleven or so minutes (or however long the period of time leading up to the NL2 lasted) become very retroactively boring. Not a lot happens, mostly because in those opening minutes, the match is still looking for a direction. Again, it makes great good sense to do it that way, to have them try a bunch of different ways to work the match and then have Nagata find The One True Way...but the match DOES suffer for it.

I'm not ignoring these flaws when I say that you need to see this match. I'm perfectly conscious of them: they're unfortunate, but you still need to see this match. Because beyond all the no-selling and forgettable first few minutes, there's a match - a really, really good match that clocks in at ****1/4 by my count - that lays the groundwork for the next five or six years of NJPW. Yuji Nagata stepped up on this day and became the man to take NJPW out of the age of the Three Musketeers and into the age of - well, I don't know what age they're going into. Frankly, the book's still unwritten on that one. But when it gets written, it'll start with this match, right here.

And judging by how good this match was, I'll be turning the pages as fast as I can.

Minoru Tanaka vs. Takehiro Murahama - 4/20/01, NJPW
by Digable James Cobo

Just watched it today, and I can't say it was entirely deserving of the "blowaway MotY" status it's been getting. It was a good, solid ****, good enough for #10 on my list (pushing off the 3/2/01 Zero-One tag), but it wasn't even in the same league as Benoit/Dinsmore from OVW in January (which would be ****1/4 easy if it weren't for the ending).

Watching Murahama/Tanaka, I kept thinking that for a match with such strong roots in worked-shootedness, Tanaka sure didn't take advantage of things that would have nearly guaranteed him a win throughout the match, with the most conspicuous instance being when Murahama gave Tanaka his back, which in a shoot is tantamount to suicide, but there were plenty of other places where Murahama would be (from a worked perspective, intentionally) leaving his leg or arm open for attack, but Tanaka would just sit there and yell.

I also didn't like the psychology too much; at times it seemed like the point of the match was to get Murahama over as an overlooked threat, as he'd be rolling through on a lot of submission moves that were pretty credible in context, but watching Tanaka's selling I got the impression that he was trying to convey "Gee, getting kicked this hard sure does suck, but the match is still mine to lose."

I don't mean to imply that the match was worthless, because there were some great transitions, and Minoru got busted open hardway worse than anyone I've seen in a long time. It's a very, very cool match to watch, and I sure did enjoy it. But there was a lot of intangibles missing - and they were the type of things that make a cool match great.

Cactus Jack v. Terry Funk, January 8, 1995, Guma Japan.
by Alex Carnevale

This match is a barbed wire match. Foley puts it above the Royal Rumble as the second best match of his career. I remembered that I had in on a compilation tape I hadn't watch since I bought it.

Foley and Funk cut promos before the match. Funker's promo is just okay, but Cactus promo is incredible, even better than his ECW stuff if you could believe that possible. Jack starts off by chasing Terry with a barbed wire bat, to no avail. He then throws a bunch of chairs in the ring and the bell rings. That's called an auspicious beginning. It should be noted that there is no commentary for the match as I have it.

Jack gets up on the apron, but Terry throws a chair at him, clocking him in the head and sending Jack to the floor. Terry then chucks a chair from the ring to the floor on Jack's face. He has the chair on the outside and brutalizes Jack with it, going after the leg immediately. They circle each other in the ring, and a small Terry chant goes out from the small crowd.

Terry headbutts Jack, and they circle more, with Jack saying come one and putting up boxing gloves like he wants to fight. Lock up, and Jack tries to whip Terry into the barbed wire. Terry rolls out and tries to throw chairs at Hack. This might as well be an empty arena brawl. Cactus Jack starts killifying Terry on the outside and starts rubbing his face into barbed wire. That's one way to draw blood.

Funk goes for the leg back in the ring and tries the spinning toehold but wrestling maneuvers won't work. Terry tries it again, but Jack pounds out after a bit. Jack drops an elbow and rubs Terry in the barbed wire again. Cactus' noises in this match are so loud, it's ridiculous. That stuff is phenomenal. He destroys Terry with the barbed wire, making some of the most insane noises I've heard in my life. He then rolls out to the crowd and picks up a chair. Funk is meanwhile trying to disentangle himself from the barbed wire.

Jack comes back with the flaming chair and slams it across Terry's back. He pounds on him on the outside, with fans and photographers following the brawl. Jack lights the flaming chair again, and hits Terry's arm with it. Jack then gets a hiptoss on the flaming chair, which is still burning. Funk throws it at him and then throws it in the ring, where is it still on fire. Jack grabs it and SLAMS it across Terry's back for two.

Jack tries a vertical suplex. Unfortunately, Funker reverses it and suplexes Mick on the barbed wire. Christ. Funk proceeds to slip on the water that's attempting to douse the flaming chair in the ring. He tosses Jack and pulls the barbed wire on the ropes apart, scraping them across Cactus Jack's face. Funk sets up one of those nasty looking Japanese tables (if you haven't seen one, you're missing out) and he slams Foley into it, hard. Foley is doing a .7 Muta bladejob, but perhaps I overestimate it. Foley is crawling on his hands and knees. Foley- "Terry!"

Funk has the flaming iron, which he digs into Foley's back. He then beats him around the ring with it, including trying to put it ON Jack's face. This match is needless to say, intense. Jack picks up Terry and slams him on the outside. He then hits a sick looking Cactus elbow. It sounded like it broke something in Terry. That's the best I've ever seen him do the elbow, and he's pouring blood to boot. Well, not to boot...shit, you know what I mean. Cactus- "Bang bang!" Jack throws Terry into a bunch of chairs and Funk has bled himself silly as well, as the stains on his shirt attest. Both men are covered in chairs.

Funk has one around his neck, and he is so dazed he swings at a fan in a cool yet litigious spot. At some point Funk starts to go psycho, tossing chair all over the place. They rest for a bit this way, with Jack strangling Terry with his shirt and loving every second of it. Jack rolls him back in the ring. Funk kicks out at two.

When Jack is on top of Funk he audibly calls out "DDT" and then - surprise, surprise - DDTs Funk for two. Hey, it's not his fault - there's no commentary and no crowd; I'm surprised that's the only glitch like that. Jack hits a bad-looking vertical suplex for two. Funk is a wreck but he staggers Foley with rights and looks to come back he's gonna make it - but Funk does the Flair flop. Cover for two, reversal for two. Funk has the barbed wire in his hand, but Jack just slugs away with nice-looking punches for two. With a better crowd, this match would be so over it's not even funny. Funk reverses a spinebuster into a DDT for three in 16:23. ****3/4 Mercifully, this war comes to an end. If you like brutal brawls, this one's for you.

Post-match, Funk takes out the ref and assorted other officials, including a cameraman. I guess this is his gimmick in Japan. If these two had done this match at WrestleMania XIV, it would have gone over huge. Both men find each other for a handshake on hands and knees afterwards, but Jack turns on Funk and decks him, piledriving him on the floor shortly thereafter. Funk is left in a heap, and Jack leaves.

Funk would go on to have a much lesser match but just as insane a match at ECW Born to Be Wired, with Sabu. That's worth checking out if you want to see some insane barbed wire stuff with hype supplied by Joey Styles. It amazes me that Foley was able to get up for a match like this in front of nobody.

This match is nowhere near better than his triumphant classic at WWF Royal Rumble 2000, which he planned out and which I will forever maintain is his best match and better than WWF Mind Games on every storyline level you can think of. The match is better too. Royal Rumble is the match that made HHH and Foley at the same time.

Jack gives a bleeding interview after the match. Best promo ever. Bleed much, Cactus? He gets himself and his opponent over at the same time. A-fucking-mazing. This week's match is from Japan.

Super Calo/Thunderbird/Magico/Jungla v Juventud Guerrera/Halloween/Damien 666/Hijo del Enfermero - sometime in 1997, Tijuana
by Digable James Cobo

Ah, lucha libre. When it's bad, it's REALLY, REALLY BAD; when it's good, it's REALLY, REALLY GOOD, and when it's fast but by-the-numbers, it's REALLY, REALLY FUN. This match was a BLAST to watch; it had great heel posturing and infighting, a few superchoice spots (most notably Juvi's legdrop while Magico was in a Gory Special), a crazy dive sequence AND a missed dive sequence, teased catfights, hideous oversells of UN FOULE!s... it was like if a stupid high school movie had a baby with a stupid action movie. Star of the match is probably Calo, who works really, really crisply, and has a grat sense of timing that for some reason he never got to show off when he was being squashed by Fidel Sierra in four minutes on WCWSN. He really kicks ass in this, throwing some nice sentons - as well as the best tope on the entire tape - around. Also notable is Halloween, who metamorphoses into a third grader to scrap with Damien. It wasn't perfect or transcendant or anything like that - there was no story outside of "The tecnicos are good guys, the rudos are bad guys, and they's gonna tussle", and the work was pretty loose (especially when they'd miss dives - I seriously doubt that so many knees have ever hit the canvas in one match before) - but it was a whole hell of a lot of *** fun.

Brendan "Shaddax" Welsh-Balliett
Digable James Cobo
Alex Carnevale

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