August is a slightly different month for my Ramblings About roundup. Since the 18th, I’ve been in Japan, so the second half of this list is entirely made up of matches I’ve seen in person. Seeing something live alters how you view it, and if you’re looking for in-depth analysis over more feeling-based yelling, you might want to go elsewhere. However, I’ve been having a lovely old time, and I still hope there is some value in what I have to say.
666 Hataage 20th Anniversary & Yuko Miyamoto Debut 20th Anniversary Show (2/8/23), 666
666 is cool. It’s not a promotion I’ve ever done more than dip my toe into, but the aesthetic and the ideals behind it are very much my shit, and I love that they exist. There will always be companies that can sell out Sumo Hall and put on ‘great’ wrestling matches, but small, niche promotions that cater to a specific subsection will come and go. Whether it’s shoot style, deathmatches or comedy, it’s much harder to survive when you’re sticking to an ideal rather than chasing what people want to see. So, for 666 to have lasted for twenty years AND made it to Korakuen Hall is one hell of an achievement. It gave this entire show an air of slightly unhinged celebration that was only slightly influenced by Chris Brookes working his way through six pints while doing commentary (although that played its part).
And I’m not going to pretend I had a clue what was happening for large chunks of it. Mr Haku, who joined Bookes on commentary, tried his hardest to explain, but he was fighting a losing battle. A company like 666 isn’t, and shouldn’t be, easy to jump into and instantly understand. They’ve built up their own mythology, the kind of thing that only the diehards can follow, and no matter how nonsensical it is, that’s the way things should be. Niche, weird movements should be incomprehensible to anyone who doesn’t understand them, and it’s why the constant whining about gatekeeping is so fucking intolerable. Not everything has to make itself welcoming to you, and quite frankly, most people shouldn’t be welcome. The Western joshi fanbase would be a hell of a lot more palatable if a good chunk of it were gatekeeped out the door.
Importantly, though, even when I didn’t know what was going on, I loved this. If anything, I loved it because of that. I loved how weird and out there it was, and I adored that everyone who packed into that room, from the wrestlers to the fans, was clearly ecstatic and slightly shocked that they’d managed to get this far. From the opening minutes of the dark match battle royal, in which we got a tug-of-war during which a karaoke performance was going on in the ring, to the genuinely great main event between Konaka and Koji Takeda, this show was a celebration, a celebration of a group of weirdos who have created something special.
666 might never find their way back to that hallowed hall. There have been much smaller crowds in that room this year, so it’s not impossible, but wrestling is a fickle business. However, whether they do or not, they did this. Most importantly, they did it by being themselves. There was no toning down or catering to the mainstream, as even the TJPW heavy match was full of Ram flashing her middle fingers and planting kisses on her idol wife. Whatever happens next, that achievement will never go away, and I hope they’re all damn proud of what they did.
Mio Momono vs Mayumi Ozaki, Marvelous (7/8/23), Marvelous
So much of the attention paid to this match has been about the result that it feels like people have forgotten to talk about the actual substance of it. You can argue till you are blue in the face about whether Mio should have lost or not (I’m personally still on the fence), but you can’t dispute that this was an incredible performance. Ozaki came in with the intent to murder, ruthlessly dismantling Momono, and she gave an all-time great babyface performance in response. She was left a bloodied, beaten mess, but she kept coming, giving everything she had to defend her title and the company she loves. Ozaki beat her to a pulp before beating her a bit more, and only then was she able to get the win.
And as I mentioned in my Marshmallow Bomb review, Mio wasn’t alone in selling this match to perfection. Korakuen was right there alongside her, the Marvelous faithful slowly coming to life and drowning out Ozaki’s minions as they cheered their hero on. Then you had Maria and Takumi on the apron, getting increasingly irate as they watched their pal be abused. There was an energy in that room. One that drew everyone together into a singular force, desperate to expel the invader. That they failed only added to the heartbreak of the finish. Everyone had given everything, and it still wasn’t enough.
The aftermath was just as good, Ozaki stamping on the title, drawing a furious Nagayo and Watanabe into the ring to defend the thing they’ve built. Then there was a broken Mio, sobbing her way through an apology only for the fans to respond with a flood of streamers, a sign of love that, when she realised what was happening, only caused her to cry all the harder. It was raw and emotional, as there was a real sense that something had gone wrong, and it is now up to the Marvelous roster to come together and fix it.
In the aftermath of it all, I, like most, was so focused on the result that I forgot to appreciate what I’d watched. But going back to it, revelling in it without the stab of sadness when Mio fell, I realised that this was a masterpiece. Mio and Ozaki strung everyone along, playing with their emotions before ripping out their hearts. The best of the year? Perhaps not. It doesn’t have the emotional catharsis that Mio’s title win did, but it’s right up there, and if you’re so blinkered by throwing your toys out of the pram because you think the wrong person won that you can’t see that, then more fool you.
Miyu Yamashita vs Yuki Arai, Princess Cup (12/8/23), TJPW
I find the reaction to Yuki Arai from certain corners of the fandom fascinating. People feel like she hasn’t earned her spot in TJPW and is only where she is because of her background as an idol. Now, that is at least partly true. Arai has 100% benefitted from her non-wrestling fame, and if she’d come in as a typical rookie, I can’t imagine she’d have got anywhere near the same number of opportunities as she has. Takagi and Koda know what they have, and they will milk it dry in case she turns around next month and decides that this isn’t for her.
And you know what, I get why that’s frustrating. It’s the same reason people get annoyed when a random celebrity gets a WrestleMania match, but insert fan favourite here is in the battle royal. Watching people who have beaten the shit out of themselves night after night be overlooked for some random celebrity who hasn’t crossed over is frustrating and unfair, especially as, historically, most of them put in the bare minimum effort.
But that’s not Yuki Arai. Sure, she doesn’t work a full-time schedule, but she turns up a lot, including for some of the small ones, and I don’t think anyone can claim that she hasn’t worked hard. Her improvement since she debuted in 2021 has been rapid and clearly comes from her taking the time to sit down and learn from those around her. Any initial frustration that this idol was getting opportunities others wouldn’t is irrelevant now, right? She’s earned her spot.
Because when you see her in that ring, booting Miyu Yamashita in the face and building to an incredible home stretch in which I was fully invested in the idea that she could win, the reasons for her being there feel irrelevanr. I don’t care how much extra attention Arai brings to TJPW or how many pennies she adds to the coffer because none of that benefits me, but I like watching her wrestle. I like the struggle she brings to the ring and her desperate need to prove herself. I like that she’s charming and charismatic in a way that I’m sure has a lot to do with her background but which she has adapted perfectly to this world. And while I’m sure there are people out there who will never let go of that grudge, I think it’s probably time to accept that she’s great, and as long as she wants to wrestle, these are the spots she should be in.
Miyu Yamashita vs Yuki Kamifuku, Princess Cup Final (13/8/23), TJPW
Getting over in defeat isn’t unique to wrestling, but it is something it can do in a way that few other sports can. While a country like Morocco can win everyone’s hearts while not winning the World Cup, their journey to the semi-finals was an exceedingly rare one and something that comes up once in a blue moon rather than every tournament. In wrestling, you can tell those stories whenever you want, and Yuki Kamifuku marching to the final of this year’s Princess Cup was the perfect example.
What made this special wasn’t just that Kamiyu made it to the final act but that she cared about doing so. I have a lot of affection for her as a wrestler, but at times, she’s leant a bit too hard on seeming too cool for school, and there’s a sense that none of this is really bothering her. It’s no secret that wrestling wasn’t a passion of hers. She stumbled into it, and while she’s become a success in her own right, you still sometimes get the impression that she is a touch detached from the madness around her.
Not here, though. This Kamiyu either couldn’t or wouldn’t hide how much she cared. She threw her heart and soul into doing everything she could to take the Ace down, and while she was ultimately left in tears, clinging to Mahiro Kiryu, she earned Miyu Yamashita’s respect in the process. As I said in my Marshmallow Bomb review, there aren’t many worlds in which someone driving their boot and knee into your head is proof that you’ve made it, but Yamashita was forced to give her everything, unleashing the big guns to put her down. The number of people in TJPW who have earned that treatment is small, and in a weird way, Kamiyu should be proud to count herself among their ranks.
None of this is that surprising, though. It’s been a quiet couple of years for Kamifuku, but she proved during her International Princess Title run that she could turn it on, and when the opportunity called, she proved it again. I don’t know if she’ll ever make it to the top of this company, win the biggest title or even get another go at winning this trophy, but she’s shown her worth. If they need her, she’ll pull it off, and I hope next time they’re lining up a challenger for a Korakuen main event, the suits in charge remember that.
As mentioned, I spent the second half of August in Japan, watching quite a lot of wrestling, so from here on out everything is coming from a live perspective. Up first was a trip to Marvelous, which I have only just realised is the first wrestling show I’d been to this year. It was the perfect belated start, however, as I saw my favourite company put on an incredibly enjoyable show.
And while I’ve picked out this match as the highlight, it was more about the entire experience. A lot of the joy in watching wrestling live comes from picking up on the little details. Stuff like Ai returning to ringside to second halfway through Leo’s match while still selling her defeat or Mio noticing someone was about to take a picture and shifting slightly to the left to block them, grinning cheekily the whole time. It’s even in taking in the crowd around you, appreciating the tiny wee lass dressed head to toe in Unagi merch (complete with Unagi teddy bear) who was handing out streamers for her hero before the show or the fact that the Marvelous fans are easily the most gender diverse I’ve seen at a joshi show.
The main event was also packed with these incidental details, as Tomoko Watanabe proved a particular source of joy, as she chose to collapse off the apron in particularly dramatic fashion every time someone bumped her. To make it even better, poor Ai was tasked with trying to stop her from wiping out the front row, and as you’ll know, there’s quite a size difference there. It was also Tomoko who was the victim of my other favourite small moment, as Yuu decided the best way to stop her from getting involved in a pinfall was to wander over and sit on her, which was a simple but effective plan.
Then there was the pure joy in watching Mio Momono up close, appreciating that she could open the match by tying her legs up in streamers and falling over before acting terrified of the much larger Nightshade and finally transforming into the wee tank we all know she is, hammering on people and being brilliant. I don’t think there is a wrestler around who walks that line better, and getting to appreciate her from mere feet away was a pleasure and privilege. Even in the post-match promo, which left my limited Japanese in the dust, I couldn’t help but be drawn in by her charisma, as she had the whole room laughing (including Chigusa Nagayo at ringside, as I was in actual hearing distance of some Chig chuckles). It was proof (as if it was needed) that Mio is undeniable.
And to return to the beginning, and that crowd, the whole show was a delight. It was a warm, relaxed atmosphere where you had middle-aged Japanese women, who I assume have been watching Nagayo matches their entire lives, catching up and making each other laugh. I fell in love with Marvelous long ago, but seeing it in the flesh only reinforced that. In other words, I had a pretty good time.
Ichigaya Chocolate Square is my favourite wrestling venue in the world. Not because it’s perfect. It’s not. It’s also not because of the mat or because you may find yourself watching through a window, painfully aware that you will be on camera for 99% of the show and are a sweaty mess (okay, some of that might be slightly personal). No, it’s because of how it embraces all of those things. There are plenty of venues in the world with bad sight lines and dodgy/non-existent air-con, but none (of the ones I’ve visited) have the charm and appeal that Ichigaya does. It’s where Chie, in awkward English, will bully you to go and buy a drink to stay hydrated before the show, and it will all feel like part of the experience.
And I was so happy to see a big, chaotic, celebratory six-person tag on my second visit to that beautiful place. Sure, it’s a shame I missed Emi Sakura, but watching the 4th Generation celebrate their latest anniversary made up for that. Especially as they had Sayuri in their corner, backing them up. If I’m being honest, I can barely remember most of the match, as it blurred into an all-over-the-place but beautiful mess, the excitement leading to me being unable to take it all in, but I remember how happy I was. I remember laughing and cheering as I watched some of my favourite people, at least out of those I don’t actually know, do their thing in front of me.
I also remember the moment towards the end when Mei ended up alongside us outside the window, trying desperately to return to the mat and break the winning pin, only for Otoki to stop her. As she did her best to escape, clinging to the edge of the window frame and hanging off it like a little monkey, you got an insight into the stuff you don’t see through the camera and a reminder that even when you aren’t watching her, Mei Suruga is being brilliant. Sadly, with the bulk of the ChocoPro roster heading to the UK while I was over here, I only got to visit Ichigaya once, but my heart still beats hard for that place, and you can bet that next time, I’ll be back again.
Momoka Hanazono vs Kengo Mashimo, Gokigen Kawasaki #44 (20/8/23), YMZ
I was lucky to see Momoka Hanazono twice on this day, starting with her vs Yuu as part of Oz Academy’s Korakuen before heading out to Kawisaki for YMZ. They were both great matches that played within the same ballpark, as Hanazono battled a powerhouse opponent by scampering around them and delving into her bags of antics. However, of the two, this was the one that got the time and the space to shine, and it quickly became one of my favourite experiences of the whole trip.
It wasn’t just the time it got, however, as it felt like Hanazono and Mashimo were playing the roles they were born to play. Momoka is one of the most entertaining wrestlers around, and watching her chip away at the self-serious Kengo, dragging him down into her antics (with the help of a persuasive crowd), was a genuine delight. Before long, she had him willingly being put in submissions, well aware that when he did, he would have to face her bubble-led shenanigans.
After that, the switch was perhaps even more impressive as the match slowly grew to the point where Momoka’s bubble wand was smashed over Kengo’s head, disintegrating with a crack as it broke into a thousand pieces. In that, you can see why Momoka is so much more than just a nonsense merchant (although there is no shame in that). She’s got the ability to pack a match with silliness, seemingly competing for the fun of doing so, right up until that’s exactly not what she’s doing. There’s always an end game, a plan to get the win, and when it comes, she will hit a motherfucker as hard as she can. Here, it wasn’t enough, as Kengo was too big and too strong, but she gave him a scare, as this became a real battle in those closing minutes.
And watching Momoka right now feels a bit like watching Mei Suruga a year or so back, as she’s transforming from someone with all the potential and ideas into one of the very best. She’s finding ways to blend that fun with more ‘serious’ matches and make it feel like something that could see her challenge at the top of any card. At this point, she might still be a step or two behind her MomoRingo partner, but she’s catching up, and a future where these two are at the height of their powers around the same time is one that I can get very excited about.
I also wanted to quickly mention that the Yuu & Kaori Yoneyama vs Makoto & Kaho Kobayashi show was fantastic and well worth going out of your way to see.
Shinno Hagane & Makoto vs Minoru Fujita & Ayame Sasamura, Gokigen Kawasaki #45 (21/8/23), YMZ
I love coming to Japan and spending my days wandering around this country, eating incredible food and, on this occasion, sweating more than I’ve sweated in my life. However, I’d be lying if I said that one of the main reasons I make these trips isn’t to pack into tiny little rooms like Post Di-Amistad and see matches like this. Main events in which everyone dressed in their favourite summer outfits and had an outing that might be the most fun I have ever had watching wrestling live. It was nonsense, beautiful genius nonsense, and whether it was Makoto taking a break to read her manga or the three people who weren’t wearing shoes trying to negotiate a ring filled with LEGO, it had me roaring with laughter from beginning to end.
And I’m sure this will be a load of fun to watch on demand, but it’s also the kind of wrestling that thrives in the live environment. I wasn’t planning on going to this show, but I had so much fun the day before that I came back, desperate for another hit, and YMZ delivered. We had Matsuzawa-san joining Hagane for his entrance, clad in her finest bikini, and teases of Fujita’s box of LEGO, as this was one of those matches that escalated not through violence (although the aforementioned barefooted LEGO stuff looked very sore), but silliness and it was no less masterfully done than any so-called five-star match. They built to their jokes, paying them off perfectly and getting every laugh they wanted,
It was the kind of match that makes me fall in love with a company. I’ve always liked YMZ and have all the respect in the world for Yoneyama and her vision, but now I can’t imagine not watching every second of it that I can. A similar thing happened when I saw Gatoh Move on my last trip, as I tumbled head over heels for that little oddity of a world. This time around, it was YMZ that won my heart, and you’ll probably be seeing me write about them a lot more going forward.
Sareee vs Arisa Nakajima, 8th Anniversary (25/8/23), SEAdLINNNG
To give you a peek behind the curtain, I’ve sat down to try and write about this match multiple times and hit a brick wall every time. How do you even start to explain the feeling of watching this live? The thrill of hearing the thumps as they hammered on each other or the shock and horror as their heads collided. It was up there as one of the most exciting things I’ve ever seen, not just in wrestling but in life. Arisa and Sareee went to war. Not in the throwaway cliched way that phrase is usually deployed, but by beating the shit out of each other, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.
It was all so much that I’m not ashamed to admit that by the home stretch, I was openly crying. Not because I was sad but because my brain didn’t know how else to react. Watching Sareee and Arisa put their bodies on the line for the thing they believe in was all those things I said above, but it was also inspiring and moving. Both of these wrestlers have talked at length about their vision for what joshi puroresu should be, and at a time when the industry has shifted towards the more idol-focused stuff, they stand as the defenders of this version of it. The version of it that favours violence, grit and pushing yourself until you can’t push any further. As they dropped each other on their heads, I was in awe of these two artists who care enough about their craft to put everything on the line to share it with the world.
And I think that’s something I value highly in wrestling. While I was on this holiday, one of the biggest wrestling crowds of all time gathered at Wembley Stadium, and while I’m a bit jealous of everyone who went to that show (mainly because they all did it together and that sounded fun) the people I’m actually jealous of, are those who got to see ChocoPro UK the day before. They got to watch those beautiful weirdos take something born out of trying to save a company during the pandemic to a whole new country, and I can’t imagine the joy that Emi, Mei and co felt doing that. On paper, the silly show that takes place in Ichigaya doesn’t have much in common with Sareee and Arisa headbutting each other, but the same passion runs through both. They all love what they do and are willing to do everything they can to share it, and as long as someone is doing that, I’ll be there, probably crying and having the best time.
Kengo Mashimo vs Cohaku, Chiba Vol. 10 (26/8/23), WAVE
The second Kengo Mashimo match I saw on this trip was another one where he went up against a much smaller opponent, but it couldn’t have been more different. While Momoka tried to antic her way past him, Cohaku charged straight down the line, attacking him before the bell and kicking off a match where she attempted to sprint to the finish, dealing enough damage before Kengo could use that power to wipe her out.
What was notable about this, however, was the palpable tension in the room. Everyone there was rooting for Cohaku, but there was worry in that support. There was a sense that she was picking a fight with someone too big and scary to deal with, a feeling backed up when she was launched into the metal shutters of 2AW Square. What had started as a thrill ride was morphing into a situation where you just hoped Cohaku had enough to come out of this in one piece.
And in those moments, the ones where you’re as worried as you are excited, some of the best babyface work comes about. Because it’s one thing to like someone and want them to succeed, it’s a whole other to care about them. To balance on that tightrope of cheering them on while also hoping they stay down and realise this is a fight they can’t win. Then, with every kick out and every flurry, every slight slither of an opening, you find yourself yelling in relief as well as excitement, willing them to do what they can to overcome.
Credit also has to go to Kengo, who was sublime once again. He’s not a wrestler I’ve ever paid much attention to, but he was a fantastic bully in this match without ever letting it slip over into being uncomfortable and weird. When out-powering someone smaller and of the opposite gender to you, there is always the chance that it can stray into territory you don’t want to invoke. However, he played the game perfectly, heaping sympathy on Cohaku while also giving her a voice in this fight and opening up the idea that on the right day, with the right roll of the dice, she could beat the big bastard. It was fantastic pro wrestling, and if that day ever comes around, I hope I’m lucky enough to be in the crowd again.
Saki Akai vs Danshoku Dieno, Memories of Summer Vacation (27/8/23), DDT
Danshoku Dieno is one of wrestling’s great mysteries. On the one hand, he’s a crude, outdated stereotype that engages in some genuinely unpleasant attempts at humour. On the other, I’ll quite happily argue that he’s a genius. That Pheremone’s role as big, sexy lads is inspired, and that matches like his 2021 title shot against Jun Akiyama, where he threw his antics at the stoic legend in an attempt to shake him, were brilliant. He’s a conundrum and, in many ways, the embodiment of DDT, the crude and the brilliant rammed together in one bizarre package.
All of which made this match, which served as a joint celebration of Akai’s 10th anniversary and as part of the road to her retirement, fitting. Because while Dieno represents DDT, Akai does too. She’s the side that gives people a chance. It’s easy to forget now how awkward she once was in the ring, but DDT have given her the time and the space to flourish, letting her unleash her creativity and become a genuinely brilliant performer. On top of that, not once have they looked down on her, placing her beneath the rest of the roster. She’s as much a part of the gang as anyone else, and she’s proof that if you want to find a home there, you will. She and Dieno don’t exist in the same world, he said so himself at the end of this, but they are both DDT, and that’s what makes it special.
And this match was also special. Dieno turned back the clock, entering as The Nightmare and wearing a mask over his face to protect a broken nose, which initially had Saki nervous about dealing damage to his face. As the action went on, however, he pushed her into putting those nerves to one side, demanding she show the world the wrestler she had become. He wasn’t going to let Akai hold anything back, and if it meant being booted square in the nose, then so be it.
It was the framework for perhaps my favourite finish of the year, as Saki set up to drive her knee into the now unprotected face of Dieno (he’d ripped the mask off), and Referee Matsui threw himself in front of her, stopping the attack and calling for the bell, unwilling to let Dieno eat the sacrifice. It was a beautiful little moment of humanity that points to a relationship between the ref and a man who has spent most of his career making his job very difficult while also putting Dieno and Saki over in the process. Her for getting to that position and showing the killer edge needed to end it, and him for being willing to take it, for accepting that Saki had the better of him and knowing what that meant.
In the aftermath, when Dieno acknowledged Akai’s legacy and placed her next to him in the pantheon of DDT greats, fans around me were openly sobbing, making no attempt to hide the tears as creepy sex pest Danshoku Dieno did it again. I’m not sure I’ll ever decide what I think about him, but maybe that’s the point. Perhaps I don’t need to figure it out and have to simply accept that, like him or love him, Dieno is Dieno, and that’s what makes him special.
Jun Kasai vs Masashi Takeda, Death Match Carnival Vol. 2 (28/8/23), FREEDOMS/Jun Kasai Produce
I’ve been lucky enough to be part of some rowdy wrestling crowds over the years. When Grado rose to the top of ICW and won the title at the SECC, I was there, and I lost my mind when Naito finally beat Okada at the Tokyo Dome. However, I’m not sure I’ve ever been part of a crowd as rowdy as a FREEDOMS crowd welcoming Jun Kasai for a deathmatch main event. The myth of the polite Japanese fans has never been more dead than when the whole of Korakuen comes together to chant his name, welcoming their hero to the bloodbath that is to come.
And make no mistake about it, this was a bloodbath. Kasai vs Takeda is a living walking ‘men would rather x than go to therapy meme’, as these two mad men express their love for each other through blood. It didn’t take long for them to start to get stabby, glass shattering as they threw themselves and each other through it at every opportunity. So much analysis of deathmatches comes back to the idea that if they do some proper wrestling in amongst the violence, it’s somehow legitimised, but that’s never been a bigger load of shite than when you’re watching these two do their thing. Sure, they can trade holds, but their latest violent act is as much wrestling as any armbar has ever been because it’s all about emotion. It’s the story of two men, at the very apex of the form, pushing each other to go harder and faster, one-upping each other not through hate but through their love for each other and the art form they’ve chosen.
On top of that, it’s so fucking cool. Watching a pane of glass explode, firing shards into the air as Kasai flies through it, is a visual that has seared its way into my mind. I can’t think of anywhere else you can see that, certainly not with the unrestrained gusto you got here. It’s two people pushing their bodies to the edge, ending up coated in blood and glass as they experiment to see how far they can go. I know it’s not for everyone, but much like 666, it shouldn’t be. Those who get it love it, and those who don’t would never dare tell these fans they’ve got it wrong.
DDT Beer Garden Show (29/8/23), DDT
Every couple of months, the discussion of what the best thing to show someone who is looking to get into wrestling will come up on Twitter, and people will put forward any number of awful suggestions. My feelings about that topic have always been that unless someone is actively interested in getting into it, you should probably leave them alone and stop trying to force this weird hobby on them. However, if, for some reason, you are desperate to convince a loved one that this is something worth spending their time on, I think the actual answer is a DDT show like this one. An event where you can sit in Ueno Park, drinking a beer and laughing as Antonio Honda, Kazuki Hirata and Yuni do the YMCA. Wrestling is ridiculous, and while you could show people Arisa vs Sareee to try and convince them it’s not, they’re going to enjoy this a lot more.
I also think this stuff is DDT at its best. After being at this show, I slightly drunkenly mentioned on Twitter that their influence on American wrestling (the very thing they were pastiching right back at the start) has gone somewhat unnoticed in recent years, but at least half of the WrestleMania weekend shows are trying to do something this effortlessly fun and funny, and practically none of them achieve it. They’re all pale imitations of Takagi’s army of Peter Pans, and while DDT can undeniably do the serious stuff, I think I’ll always prefer it when they’re putting on shows best enjoyed with a beer in hand and a willingness to embrace the absurd.
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