I’m pleasantly surprised to report that the diversity of content in my matches of the month has at least made it to February. This roundup has more lucha, a touch of FREEDOMS and even some AEW. Sure, it’s a bit front-heavy, as I’ve been busy enough the last two weeks to put wrestling watching on the back burner, but there should still be more than enough here to satisfy you. However, if you do have a match you think I should have seen, throw it in the comments. I’m always happy to get recommendations.
Mio Momono & Tomoko Watanabe vs Itsuki Aoki & Ai Houzan, Marvelous (2/2/24), Marvelous
Last month, Mio’s Oz Academy title win had me raving about her position as the ultimate underdog, battling from underneath against an almost too-dominant AKINO. This month, I want to talk about Mio the Menace. The wrestler who inspired Chigusa Nagayo to nickname her Chucky and snuck into this match to stand on Ai Houzan’s fingers to prevent her from crawling to the ropes. Mio is outstanding at working from underneath, perhaps the best in the world, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be an almighty pest when she wants to.
Poor Ai was the frequent victim of Mio’s antics. Houzan often feels like the first Marvelous rookie to ascribe to some version of Momonoism and, in what will be a recurring theme in this month’s roundup, that seems to inspire Mio to be that little bit meaner to her. Every submission was a little bit tighter, and every hit was a little bit harder. It’s like she wants to push the rookie she’s had a hand in shaping to that next level. To be clear, I’m not talking about GAEA Girls stuff here. I get the impression that while the Chigusa Nagayo training regime is still gruelling, it’s not quite as harsh as it was in those days. Momono can demand that Ai rise to her level without breaking her nose.
And it works. Ai has felt a bit stuck recently, ready to graduate from her role as a rookie but not yet having the go-ahead to spread her wings. However, as she scrambled for purchase in this match, all bluster and slaps to Tomoko’s thighs, you remember why she was so impressive when she debuted. She’s a little feral wrestling child, raised to be a pest like Mio and capable of wriggling her way into spots that almost saw her sneak out with the win. On more than one occasion, they convinced me they were about to pull the trigger on the upset. Sadly, that wasn’t to be, but her and Mio’s work was still thrilling. Chucky is passing on her antics to another, which is a prospect that you’ve got to be excited about.
Wotan vs Trauma I, AAA/Producciones AVE 6. Aniversario (3/2/24), AAA/Producciones AVE
Wotan vs Trauma I isn’t pretty lucha. There were some fancy moves, particularly as they moved towards the finish, but for the most part, it was grimy and dirty. It was ripped masks, smashed beer bottles ground into heads and gnawed wounds. It was brawls through the crowd and dirty refs. It was the kind of thing that needed to happen in front of a hot crowd who were 100% invested in it, or it would have quickly begun to feel like something you shouldn’t be watching. Thankfully, they had exactly that, as the people of Mexico came out in support of Trauma as he looked to take the mask of that bastard Wotan.
And I don’t think it was perfect, much like I didn’t think the one I talked about last month was. It shuddered to a halt in the middle as Trauma dealt with said crooked ref, and while that story beat didn’t bother me, the decision to have it happen through the proper channels rather than with him being booted in the balls did somewhat take the steam out of the action. However, there was enough good here that I can forgive it. As they stumbled around the ring, throwing haymakers while Trauma’s white mask turned a dirty shade of red from the blood, it was just too much goddamn fun. A few details failing to hit didn’t matter because the vibes of the whole were immaculate. It was a blood feud coming to a violent end in a messy and unpredictable way.
There was also a feel-good factor to it. In the previous month’s match, Trauma looked out of his depth as he had skewers rammed into his skull by the more vicious Wotan. Here, he was in danger of history repeating itself, especially with the crooked official in position to literally stick a foot out whenever he built a bit of momentum. However, he kept finding ways to overcome. To fight back and bloody Wotan up, forcing him into a straight fight where he had the skill to take his legs from underneath and force the submission. It was a classic bit of wrestling storytelling that saw him protect his bloodied and ripped mask while claiming Wotan’s for his own, and if you don’t enjoy that, what do you enjoy?
Bryan Danielson vs Hechicero, Collision (3/2/24), AEW
It’s probably not a huge surprise for me to reveal that I like wrestling nerds. Those brilliant fans who spend thousands of hours combing through history, discovering the stuff worth watching before talking about it on the internet. For all that I spend far too much time writing about this nonsense, my actual knowledge is minuscule, as outside of the niche I’ve buried my way into, I’m pretty useless. So, it’s those nerds that I learn from. I read their opinions, discover what’s worth exploring, and go from there. We need them. They’re the ones who care enough to archive and pay attention to every part of this wonderful world, ensuring that we never lose access to all the brilliant stuff it has produced.
And while this match wasn’t a blog or a Google Drive full of treasure, it was Bryan Danielson’s little slice of wrestling nerdery. He got the chance to introduce Hechicero to an American audience, and my god, did he take it. For fifteen minutes, Danielson, widely regarded as one of the all-time great technical wrestlers, let the luchador come in and tie him up in knots. He continually let himself be frustrated, trying to turn to strikes only to have Hechicero drag him back to the mat again, wrap him up in a bow and force him to escape. AEW gave him a chance to let the world into a secret, and he relished the opportunity to do so.
Importantly, though, this match never felt like an exhibition. Danielson hid that nerdery under the way he wrestled, constantly struggling against the roads Hechicero would lead him down and eventually sneaking out with the win. It’s one thing to be happy to be in the ring with the bloke, but the worst grappling feels like two people dancing between holds, showing off, and this never had that. While Danielson expressed his appreciation for Hechicero, he never forgot that it was a fight, and as a slice of TV wrestling and an introduction to a new name (for most of those watching), it was fantastic.
Mei Suruga vs Nonoka Seto, ChocoPro #355 (3/2/24), Gatoh Move
When Mei Suruga gets the chance to bully a rookie she trained, you can suddenly see the shadow of Emi Sakura looming over her. For all that Mei is seeped in Sakuraism, she doesn’t actually wrestle all that much like her trainer. However, as she gnawed on Nonoka’s arm, ground her into the window sill and attacked her with a stool, you could see all those hours with Emi bubble to the surface. It’s not like Mei is typically an angel (there’s a reason she’s the Apple Goblin), but she gets particularly nasty when she is allowed to torment one of the kids she brought into the world.
Sadly for Nonoka, the bullying is something she will have to get used to. Much like Mio with Ai, a bit of mistreatment brings the best out of her. Seto’s strengths remind me of TJPW’s Shino Suzuki. She’s a touch awkward at times (although I think she’s a better all-rounder than Shino at this point) but bursts with enthusiasm, and when you combine those things, they make her incredibly endearing. There were some great little touches from her here, be it her maintaining control of Mei’s arm and dragging her off the window when the Apple tried to pick up the pace or shuffling around to use the wall to give her leverage when Mei kept shoving over her attempts to headstand out of a head-scissors. They’re inventive flourishes that speak to someone having grown up in Ichigaya under the tutelage of Suruga.
It also showed off ChocoPro at its best. As Mei has ascended to her position as Ace, she’s more often than not slotted into main events alongside Akki, where their goal is to have a traditionally great match. She can do it, and they’re more often than not good, but it’s also something I’ve now seen countless times. Unless the opponents are particularly exciting or fresh, a Best Bros’ Ichigaya main event is no longer appointment viewing. Mei getting the chance to go out and mess around with a rookie, trying a few new ideas and generally being a terror, however? That will always be up my street. This is the Gatoh Move I love, and I will take every opportunity to rave about it.
Yukio Sakaguchi vs HARASHIMA, Into the Fight (7/2/24), DDT
Instead, I will focus on why Yukio Sakaguchi embodied the best of DDT. A latecomer to wrestling with a famous dad and a legitimate background, Sakaguchi doesn’t, at least on paper, sound like the typical DDT wrestler. When you see what he looks like, coated in tattoos and appearing to have wandered out of a Takashi Miike film (watch Rainy Dog and tell me he couldn’t have played the lead role), that suspicion would seem to be confirmed. The guy is hot as hell and twice as cool. That’s not to say there aren’t some cool people in DDT, but it’s a different style, and Sakaguchi looks like he would stand out like a sore thumb on that roster.
And yet, not only did he make that land of misfit toys his home, but he became, in his way, the ideal DDT wrestler. Because the best of DDT, at least for me, comes from meshing together things that don’t seem to fit. Much like his one-time stablemates Saki Akai and Kazusada Higuchi, what made Sakaguchi work was that it felt like it shouldn’t work. That this badass-looking motherfucker was physically incapable of getting through matches with the likes of Antonio Honda without corpsing was always a delight, and the fact he could back it up with incredible in-ring skills, only made that better. Whether he was cracking up at someone fighting with a pair of tights on their head or putting on a classic with HARASHIMA, he was always brilliant.
It means I’m gutted to see him go, especially so close to having said goodbye to Akai. However, I also can’t help but respect it. Like her, he’s going out on his terms, seemingly healthy, and able to go and start a new chapter. He might not be a young man, but damn, does he look good for 50, and there is still plenty of time for him to go live a whole other life or two. That he can do so, safe in the knowledge that in this one little corner of the world, his name will always be associated with greatness, is something worth celebrating. I’ll miss him, but I’m so glad I got to watch him.
Masashi Takeda vs Takayuki Ueki, Go Beyond the Limit (8/2/24), FREEDOMS
Not to drop too much information on you all, but my feet are a mess. I’ve started trying to treat them better, but years of insisting on walking everywhere, playing football and various other mistreatments have meant they require a lot of love. The worst consequence of this is that they regularly dry up, crack and leave me hobbling around in agony from a myriad of little cuts on the soles. It’s honestly up there with the worst pain I’ve experienced, and I once vomited in a school bin after damaging all the soft tissue in my left leg. It’s also what made this match so gripping. Like most deathmatch watchers, I long ago stopped being overly bothered by light tube shots and thumbtacks, but when you combine them with these two crazy bastards going barefoot? They regained the edge they’ve lacked for so long, as I cringed at the thought of the pain Takeda and Ueki must have experienced in the days after this when they stepped their feet on the ground every morning after waking up.
It wasn’t just the lack of appropriate footwear that made this match shine, though. There was some proper sicko deathmatch shit in here, from Takeda being balanced on the top of his head in a box of tacks to Ueki wrestling a decent chunk of the action with a bunch stuck in the side of his face, having lodged themselves in there when Takeda repeatedly drove him into them. There is often a feeling that deathmatches have to go bigger and scarier to achieve the shock and awe that they once got easily, but I don’t think that’s ever been the case. Yes, diving from a scaffold through a web of barbed wire into a thousand panes of glass will always get some attention, but the great stuff is built on a streak of invention. It’s what Takeda and Ueki brought here, and it created a series of visuals that stuck with me long after the match was over. I’m far from a deathmatch expert, preferring to dip my toes in here and there, but this is the kind of stuff I want to see, and I had an absolute blast with it.
God, I loved the finish of this match. After thirteen minutes of these four beating the snot out of each other, Fuminori Abe looked like he’d got an octopus on Kevin Ku, only for Dominic Garinni to use the opening to deliver a hellish headbutt when Abe couldn’t protect himself. So many wrestlers would feel the need to follow that up with something bigger and flashier, but these teams get this shit, and that was all it took. Driving your skull into someone else’s should be a kill move because, and if you don’t know, just trust me on this one, it fucking hurts.
In many ways, this was the simplest version of this match-up that you could get. The grappling was kept to a minimum in favour of these two teams standing opposite each other and laying into those strikes. I do not doubt that on a different stage, with a bit more time, they could do a hell of a lot more. However, with Astronauts being introduced to a new crowd (and an American one at that), it didn’t make sense to do that. People came into this expecting these four lads to smack the piss out of each other, and they delivered. Who am I to complain about such a thing?
It slots this firmly as perhaps the best ‘dudes rock’ match of the year so far, as there was a real joy in watching them go at it. They are kindred spirits, let loose to have some fun in, while not the perfect environment, at least one where the crowd would get into it. On top of that, they left a lot on the table for when they do it again, and with Astronauts making more trips to America (and let’s hope Violence is Forever get a chance to head the other way), fingers crossed it happens sooner rather than later.
Haru Kazashiro vs Shino Suzuki, Max Heart Final (10/2/24), TJPW
Was this the best match from TJPW’s most recent trip to Korakuen? No, it wasn’t. That honour goes to the main event. However, it is one that some of you fuckers might have skipped by, and I imagine most people reading this website have already seen Daisy Monkey vs Daydream. If you would like to hear my thoughts on it, you can find them in my review of the show. Just make sure and return to this afterwards.
Because while this match didn’t have the flash of the Max Heart final, it was some great rookie action. Neither Haru nor Shino had won coming into this, which is always a recipe for success, and there was a real sense that victory would have meant the world to either of them. They might not be as athletic as Wakana or hit as hard as Runa, but these two clearly care, making it impossible not to root for them. Few things have delighted me this year as much as Haru escaping a sleeper by rolling onto her front and wiggling backwards through Shino’s legs. It was a lovely little inventive touch, playing off the fact she is still small enough to get away with something like that.
It’s also clear that they have a bit of a mind for wrestling. Suzuki might be a tad awkward, but she’s figuring out what she’s good at, and the fact they were brave enough to go for a limb match (and pull it off) says a lot about them. I won’t pretend that Shino put in a classic arm-selling performance, but it was better than most, and Haru escaping another sleeper attempt by going through that arm is the kind of little touch that a lot of more experienced heads wouldn’t think of. How much they care doesn’t just show in their performances. It also comes across in how they structure a match, paying attention to all the details.
Then, to top it all off, it ended with wee Haru getting that first win, bursting into tears, and looking like all her Christmases had arrived at once. It was lovely and sweet and the kind of thing that can surely crack through the shell of even the most jaded old fuck. That’s why I love rookie wrestling. They might not be perfect or have the ability to do anything fancy, but there is a rawness to it that is so often lacking in those people who have been walking this road for a long time. It’s a wonderful thing, and while this wasn’t the main event, it still won my heart.
Hiroshi Tanahashi vs Kazuchika Okada, The New Beginning in Osaka (11/2/24), NJPW
It’s not what it once was. Not just because of the obvious (Tanahashi is old) but also because Okada isn’t the wrestler he was. My taste has shifted away from what Little Kazu used to do, but it’s hard to deny the greatness of his peak, and it’s been a long time since he reached that level consistently (I haven’t watched the Bryan match from this year, but I assume Dragon dragged him to something decent). And yet, when you put these two in the ring, there is always going to be a touch of magic to it. If you called it nostalgia for the period when New Japan felt like something vital, then you probably wouldn’t be wrong, but for so many of us, they’re that pairing. And I was a Naito guy.
Plus, despite all those years, Tanahashi went for it here. The guy now struggles to get around the ring, but in there with Okada for the last time, he pushed himself to get within eyesight of what he once was. He didn’t manage it, but as he leapt to the outside for a High Fly Flow or reversed a Rainmaker attempt into a small package that, just for a second, made you think he could win, you can remember just how incredible he was. To his credit, Okada also reads the room. The Japanese fans have, from what I can tell, treated him with respect in his farewell, but against Tanahashi in 2024, he was never going to be the babyface. Instead, he leant into being that cocky wee shit he’s always secretly been at heart, drawing the boos from the Osaka faithful. You could dismiss it as smoke and mirrors, but it’s smoke and mirrors that work, and it lets them end this on, if not a high, at least something worthy of the name.
Whatever you think of Okada, and I know parts of the western New Japan fans have turned on him thanks to rumour and hearsay, this is the end of an era. It’s the closing down of the New Japan that, right up until the pandemic, felt like it was unstoppable. It turns out that was just a feeling, and who knows where Japan’s biggest wrestling company goes from here, but it’s going to be different. This match, which we will most likely never see again, represented the old days, and while I don’t love to live in the past, it was nice to flirt with it one last time.
Antonio Honda vs Shuji Ishikawa, 8th GoGo! Green Curry Khob Khun Cup (12/2/24), Gatoh Move
I am vehemently opposed to the idea that to be a ‘great wrestler’, you must wrestle seriously. It goes against everything I love about this weird pseudo-sport, and Antonio Honda would be one of my favourites if all he ever did was mess around in DDT undercards. However, Honda has proven time after time that if the situation calls for him to put on his working boots and show what he can do, he’s as good as anyone. The most famous example is his KO-D title shot against Dick Togo, but it’s far from unique, and wrestling Shuji Ishikawa in Gatoh Move was the most recent example of the genre.
Not that this starts seriously. The story here is that Ishikawa dragged Honda into playing ball by sheer virtue of his presence. In the opening minutes, Anton is messing around, trying to find another way to make it through this match, but Shuji is just too big and too strong. There are no Gon stories to take down a man built like a portaloo. Instead, Honda was forced to accept that if he was to have a chance in this match, he needed to do it the old-fashioned way and take Ishikawa on head-to-head by trying to fight his way through the big bastard.
And when he did, he was brilliant, focusing on Ishikawa’s arm and unleashing that babyface fire which comes from his love of Dusty Rhodes and old-school American wrestling. He was stumbling about the ring, on the cusp of collapsing from the beating but finding it in himself to keep going. There’s nothing fancy about it, but there doesn’t have to be. All the simple stuff is done so well that you don’t need anything else, every strike crisp and Honda’s attack of the arm consistent and well thought through. It was so good that he even managed to sneak in one last bit of comedy, taking the traditional dropping of his singlet straps a step further and stripping to his underwear, a spot that somehow took on a touch of dramatic tension in this scenario. When you can start removing your clothes without denting the flow of the action, you know you’re doing something right.
Of course, Honda eventually lost, but he did it in style, surviving the first few big falls before finally succumbing. However, that does nothing to damage this match. If anything, it’s the opposite. Anton didn’t need to win this. He won by turning up and reminding the world that he doesn’t need to be silly. He chooses to be so. This match’s greatness has nothing to do with its seriousness and everything to do with his talent.
What a delightful spread of oddballs. It tends to be the silly side of DDT that gets the attention, but as much as I enjoy that, this is the stuff I love. DDT is at its best when it takes a bunch of different ideas and throws them together to see what happens. It’s how you end up with Rina Yamashita and Mecha Mummy hossing it up, Chris Brookes bullying Ram Kaicho, and noted DDT fan Maya Yukihi having a blast as she gets to mess around with Antonio Honda. They’re pairings that you would never see anywhere else, and for my money, that’s what makes this daft company so special.
And while throwing random ideas together isn’t always a recipe for success, this was one of the times it worked. It helps that if it were possible to fit a ten-person tag into that tiny room, you could imagine seeing this on a Baka Gaijin show. In fact, it felt like Brookes was the connecting tissue here, his willingness to embrace people from all sides of wrestle and also cartwheel through the air after a Rina Yamashita lariat being the glue that held this whole thing together. I obviously have no idea if that’s the case behind the scenes, but spiritually, it makes sense. He’s, in many ways, the master of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what makes him laugh, and that’s basically what this entire match was.
It’s also my ideal version of DDT – a place where weirdos like this get the chance to indulge their nonsense while delivering some sneakily great wrestling. This match wasn’t really about greatness, as it was more focused on Ram throwing invisible shuriken or Honda getting a Gon story out on the second try, but it was still there, filling the gaps. In people like Masa and Akito, with their blends of comedy and technical skill, you have another example of DDT at its best, and while I do not doubt that the company will have bigger and maybe even better matches this year, this one is going to stick with me for all the right reasons.
Darejyo EXTRA12! (24/2/24), Gatoh Move
Wrestling, like many sports, loves the idea that becoming a wrestler should be close to a form of torture. There is a touch of pride in stories of promoters screwing students or breaking legs on their first day, doing everything they can to force them to walk away. We all know it hurts, and learning to throw your body at the ground is never going to be easy, but there is a mythology built around just how hard it should be. All of which makes Darejyo, and this show covering a shortened version of one of their lessons and some exhibition matches, particularly special. There is no glorifying of pain here. Instead, it feels more like a local exercise class in which, regardless of natural talent or athleticism, you’re invited to give it a go and see what you can do.
And the thing that stood out to me most here, particularly during the training exercises, was the laughter. When the students taking part made mistakes or couldn’t do something, there were no worries about the consequences or frustration at their inadequacies. Instead, they were laughing, enjoying each other’s company and willing themselves to do it, if not perfectly, at least a little bit better than last time. Even when Emi Sakura got involved and took an accidental blow to the nose, something that you could imagine would unleash a world of shit in other places, it was treated as part of the fun. There was an apology, but it was one delivered amongst giggles, as even the veteran was a part of the gang.
Yet, among all that fun, you can still see the touches of Gatoh Move magic. It might be a group of rookies, most of whom will never actually debut for the company, but they are already figuring out who they could be in a wrestling ring. They brought with them those little sprinkles of character that remind you just how great Emi Sakura is at finding the genius in anyone she trains. It’s in Erimo polling the crowd to see if they felt her two-count was actually a three, Nonoka revelling in getting to be the senior and Misaki excitedly celebrating coming out on top of a lock-up. The wrestling here isn’t mind-blowing or even particularly good, but it doesn’t have to be. They’re rookies, most of whom aren’t even preparing to debut, but as characters, they could walk onto a ChocoPro show tomorrow and fit right in.
The best part of it all? We know it works. Those old-school faces who would growl and mock this way of training haven’t produced a fraction of the talent that Emi Sakura has. From Riho to Mei Suruga through Hikaru Shida and Tsukushi Haruka, Emi has proven time after time that her methods get results. Isn’t that beautiful? I love that something as pure as Darejyo, which is built on the idea of welcoming everyone through the door, has also produced some extraordinary wrestlers. Wrestling schools are never going to stop being horrible, and they will produce some incredible talent while being so, but Darejyo and this show are proof that there is another way. Proof that you can use the framework of wrestling to create a community of acceptance, and if it happens to produce a few good wrestlers along the way, great. It’s a wonderful thing, and the wrestling landscape doesn’t understand how lucky it is to have it.
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