June is over and done with, and like every month, it’s been busy for the old wrestling. I can’t pretend this month’s roundup is particularly eclectic, as I’m staying fairly close to my usual haunts, but there is still plenty to enjoy in there. Give it a read, and let me know if there is anything you think I need to see.
Chigusa Nagayo’s unwavering support of her youngest wrestler might be what’s needed to drag her out of her so-called retirement. Early in this match, Ai Houzan caught Takumi with a stiff elbow, and it flicked a switch in ChikaTak. They started to revel in bullying Houzan, slapping every inch of exposed skin and dishing out a few hard strikes of their own. It got to the point where Chig was reaching out towards the youngster, trying to drag her towards the ropes to escape a submission. That alone would be a high level of meddling, but when Takumi attempted to stop her, the legend took a swing at her Ace. Famously, she and Iroha are close enough to have matching tattoos, but apparently, even that’s forgotten when defending her favourite.
And this match was a beautiful example of why Ai is one of my favourite young wrestlers. She’s scrappy and defiant, every inch a product of Mio Momono’s training. When Mio embraced her inner Rika Tatsumi towards the end and started working over Takumi’s leg with a series of Dragon Screws and a Figure Four, Ai joined in by headbutting her in the knee. You probably don’t need me to tell you that’s not a great idea, but damn it, Houzan will do it anyway. Fuck brains, Ai’s all guts, and that’s exactly what I want from her. She’s a feral wrestling child who has learnt to headbutt her way through every situation.
Of course, those Mio and Takumi interactions were also fantastic. Provided they both stay healthy, I’ll be seeing them wrestle live in October, and I can’t tell you how excited I am about it. Even on a small, good vibes show like this, they couldn’t help but get testy with each other, tempers flaring up whenever they were left alone. Throw in their complete trust in each other’s abilities and a streak of invention (Mio hitting a Yoshitonic on Takumi when she bent over to pick up Ai was brilliant), and they’re a golden pairing. It has been a long time since we’ve seen them go one-on-one (outside of a match on a show in Amakusa that will never make tape), and they’ve both come a long way since that meeting. I’m not one to pencil something in as a match-of-the-year before it’s happened, but it certainly has the potential.
As did this match. As I mentioned multiple times throughout my reviews, Marvelous’s trips to Sapporo are all about the summer holiday vibes, and I love them for that. However, now and then, things will boil over, unleashing action that can’t stay within the confines of those good feelings. That’s what this was, and it was all the better for it.
Sendai Girls had crammed this match full of charisma, as even the two youngsters possess it in abundance. It also, quietly, felt like quite a big deal. I don’t think it’s harsh to say that Sendai’s record with elevating their rookies is patchy at best. You could go even further and argue that outside of Chihiro Hashimoto, they’re not great at elevating anyone. Even DASH has had short shrift when it comes to solo success. So, to have two of their kids on either side of a title bout is a rarity, even if they were backed up by some of the best around.
And while they feel like the secondary members of their teams, those roles are doing a lot for them. I’ve touched on Mio helping Oka embrace her wee weirdo energy before, but it’s bleeding into her in-ring work. While she’s always had that frantic edge, firing off countless dropkicks as she aims to overwhelm people, now she’s starting to add a touch of unpredictability. There was a moment when she dragged Aniki to the mat by almost leaping into her arms, wrapping herself around her like a koala to pull her down to the ground. She’s figuring out who she is beyond an enthusiastic rookie, and it’s an exciting development.
Of course, the Mio vs Mizunami stuff also ruled. Aniki was in her usual cheerful mood to begin with, as she goofed off while delivering her machine gun chops in the corner, but Mio didn’t let her stay there. A slap around the face waking her up. We also saw Momono succeed in getting Manami all worked up, the two of them grabbing fistfuls of hair as they exchanged strikes, turning a typical time-filler into something fuelled by anger. I know I go on about Mio constantly (see above), but her brilliance is matched by an ability to get the best out of others.
Fittingly, the final act was mainly left to Oka and Manami as they battled it out to decide who would take the belts home. The fans were hot as they went back and forth, both selling the exhaustion of a hard-fought fight. If you were judging it on possession, Oka would seem to have the best of it, as it was her flurries that were connecting the most. However, with her big knees and the beautiful bridging suplex that got the win, it was Manami who hit the killer moves. Oka could fire away with ten dropkicks, but Manami’s fantastic-looking Somato did more damage, which was the decisive factor.
It all made for an outstanding title match, something that Sendai clearly agreed with, as they went ahead and booked the rematch straight away. Oka passionately made her case for another shot at the belts, and it was accepted, as Bobubobu Momo Banana will challenge again at Korakuen in July. Judging by this, it’s one you’ll want to watch.
El Desperado’s first produce show was a fun event made even better by the thought of a bunch of New Japan fans tuning in and being introduced to a series of oddballs from across the Japanese scene. From Takayuki Ueki to Danshoku Dieno, Desperado made no attempt to pander to his primary fanbase. Did I love all of it? No, I long ago stopped caring about Dieno’s shtick, but I appreciated Despy indulging his whims and getting his pals together. It reminded me of heavy metal fans learning that most of their favourite bands don’t spend all their time listening to Slayer.
And this match was a lovely encapsulation of what made the show so fun. These four wrestlers don’t exist in the same orbit, and they’re not even an obvious group to bring together, but it worked. It worked because everyone involved committed to the bit. Christ, Hiromu Takahashi committed so hard that he busted himself open during Kasai’s entrance, accidentally headbutting the barricade in excitement. He spent the rest of the match with a trickle of blood running from his eye, adding an extra layer of weirdness to the insanity. Suzuki, meanwhile, once again showed that the person who takes him the least seriously is himself, growling his way through the action before being convinced to go barefoot by a combination of Ueki and the fans. He does curmudgeonly comedy better than nearly anyone.
Throw in a hot Korakuen who gave Jun Kasai his usual rapturous reception, and it was hard not to enjoy this. Was it everything these guys could do? Of course not. But they weren’t interested in having a great match and didn’t need to be. Throwing them together and watching their disparate personalities clash was enough. Honestly, if you’d locked them in a room backstage, it would have probably delivered something worth watching, so the fact we got a little bit of wrestling (plus plenty of LEGO) was a bonus.
Sareee vs Victoria Yuzuki, Grand Opening Wars (11/6/24) Marigold
Victoria Yuzuki’s performance at Marigold’s debut Korakuen Hall show failed to blow me away. It wasn’t a disaster, but as a highly praised youngster, I was expecting a bit more. Thankfully, we got that here. Up against one of the best wrestlers in the world, Yuzuki showed why people hold her in such high regard, and I’m sure her opponent can’t take all the credit for that.
I’m joking. I know Sareee can’t take all the praise because part of what made Yuzuki’s performance stand out was her bumping. The first time Sareee connected with a dropkick, the rookie threw herself backwards, tumbling arse over tit, as she made it look like she’d been hit with a sledgehammer. It was a talent that Sareee was always going to take advantage of, making sure that the kid had plenty of offence to bump her arse off for. She slapped Victoria around and twisted her up, making her work for every inch of progress she earned in this match. It heaped sympathy on her, and while the youngster screamed, Sareee was smiling from ear to ear.
Despite all that, I still don’t think Yuzuki is incredible. It was a Sareee-led match, and when she wasn’t on offence, things noticeably dropped off. However, there is no shame in not being as good at this stuff as Sareee. Christ, it would be a miracle if that was the case. Plus, even across the course of these thirteen minutes, we saw her strikes get that little bit tighter, presumably encouraged by Sareee’s willingness to lay it in. There was some fire in this performance, and if she can keep learning from people like Sareee, I have no doubt that Yuzuki will put the rest of it together. She certainly did a lot to win me over, which, let’s face it, is the most important thing.
Watching this match, it hit home for the first time just what we’re losing when Arisa Nakajima walks away. It wasn’t a big moment that hammered it into my brain, either. Instead, it was something I have often complained about – a strike exchange.
As she and Syuri teed off on each other with elbows and kicks, I realised why having wrestlers like Arisa around is so important. Because where so many of these sequences are pointless filler, slotted into matches because people think it’s the right thing to do, a wrestler like Nakajima knows how to make it feel important. Not only did every strike she and Syuri threw connect with a satisfying thud, but it was an interaction built on stubbornness. They were two hardened warriors, hammering away at each other, neither willing to budge an inch or give the other the satisfaction of coming out on top. The great strike exchanges (don’t get me wrong, I’m not elevating this to that level) don’t exist to fill space. They come from two hard bastards who believe that no matter how hard they’re hit, they’re the person who will still be standing come the end. Arisa embodies that ideal better than anyone, and I’m not looking forward to a world in which we don’t get to see her defend it.
As a postscript, this match was part of a multi-match one-show tournament between Las Fresa de Egoistas and an all-star team of opponents, all of which is worth a watch.
Titus Alexander vs Daisuke Sekimoto, Marvelous (18/6/24), Marvelous
In what I think was intended as a pleasant surprise, Chigusa Nagayo arranged for Titus Alexander’s last match in Japan to be against Daisuke Sekimoto. I imagine by the time the big man was laying in those chops, Titus would have rather received a nice picture or maybe some chocolates.
Regardless of the pain, this main event was the crowning glory of Titus’s recent Marvelous tours. They have brought over a lot of foreign wrestlers over the last year or so, and it’s safe to say it’s been something of a mixed bag. What a lot of people fail to understand is that getting over in Japan isn’t just about being a good worker. Sure, that helps, but there is a whole cultural aspect on top of it. Clicking into the humour and how things are done is almost more important than performing well. Titus is an ideal example of that. You can see it here when he messes around with Tommy, offering up his spot in the match to her, or fist bumps Chigusa Nagayo after a big dive to the outside. He’s figured out how to get reactions from the crowd, and when you’ve done that, the rest will follow.
Plus, he was an ideal opponent for 2024 Daisuke Sekimoto. The big lad isn’t the wrestler he once was, so he needs someone like Titus who will bounce around for his offence and provide all the movement. That leaves him open to save his energy for an occasional burst of speed and laying in a beating. Alexander was willing to take those beatings, and while there were elements of American indie wrestling to his work that I didn’t love (responding to a Sekimoto lariat with a superkick earned a groan), he also dished it out in return. He threw himself at that wall, and even with there being little to no chance of breaking through, he never stopped trying. It’s wrestling 101, but it works, and the crowd’s reaction spoke to how successful it was.
I’ve no idea if Alexander plans to return to Japan, but if he doesn’t, this was a hell of a way to go out. If he does, well, he’s made sure a few more people will be looking forward to that return, and I’m sure he’ll smash it when it comes.
Mei Suruga vs Kaori Yoneyama, Road to Korakuen – MAKE@IKUSA (19/6/24), Gatoh Move
After watching this match, I made the classic mistake of opening the live chat that ran during its premiere on YouTube. Unsurprisingly, the first thing I saw was someone griping about the result. It was the usual shit, ‘the match was good, but why isn’t Mei beating Yoneyama.’ And you know what? I get it. Instant gratification is great! It’s nice when things go your way. However, with Mei gearing up to face her trainer, Emi Sakura, at Korakuen Hall, it would have also made no sense. Mei wasn’t here to assert her superiority (something she gets to spend plenty of time doing alongside Akki on the mats of Ichigaya) but to learn, and Yoneyama had some important lessons to dish out.
Mei and Yone are wrestlers who indulge in the joy of menacing. They’re the type to stamp on your foot with a grin on their face before scarpering away, darting around the ring to tie you up in knots before bundling you over for a three. Not only are both of them supremely talented, but they revel in the silliness of wrestling, approaching everything with a glint of excitement in their eye. However, they are not the same. Yoneyama has been doing this stuff since not long after Mei was born, and it would be wild if she hadn’t learnt a trick or two in that time. Yone can do everything Mei can do, but she also can flick that switch and be a total bellend, which was the difference between them in this match. In the little moments, the points where they were scrambling to get on top, Yone was always willing to go that little bit further. Mei’s no angel, but she hasn’t honed those instincts, and while she eventually tried to meet Yone there, by that point, it was too late.
And do you know who else is a dick? Emi Sakura. She makes Yone, even at her most feral, look like a cuddly teddy. You better believe if Mei wants to wrench that title from around her waist, she has to be willing to get down into the trenches with the oni. Would it have been fun to see Mei outfox the YMZ veteran and dance out with the win, building momentum before that big show? Sure, but what would she have learnt from that? It would have been just another week. Instead, she was shown another piece of the puzzle that she’ll need to complete if she has any hope of beating Sakura. If she can put those bits together, you better believe that gratification will be ten times more intoxicating for the wait.
Saran vs HANAKO, New Blood 13 (21/6/24), Stardom
Cards on the table, this was far from a perfect match. I haven’t seen much of HANAKO, but it probably wasn’t the best idea to have her do a fifteen-minute draw. She didn’t quite have enough in her locker to pad out the time, and while Saran did great (more on that in a second), this first-time match-up between two young wrestlers struggled to take advantage of the time they were given.
However, it makes the list because of Saran. I’ve said it a million times, but the Tsukushi is strong in her, and seeing her take on Stardom’s big rookie brought that to light. It’s not just the finger stamping or the double stomps, but the sense that she views a wrestler like HANAKO as an opportunity. In theory, she should be able to launch Saran into the back row, and there were moments where her power did give her the advantage, but you never got the impression the Ice Ribbon youngster was intimidated. She simply saw this giant foe as someone who could be cut down to size, darting around her, stamping on every exposed limb and generally being a pent. It was something Tsukushi always excelled at. Watching her wrestle, you could forget how small she was because she held herself like someone twice her size and hit like someone ten times it.
Seeing that attitude live on in Saran makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She’s not yet Skoosh, but fuck, who is? The number of wrestlers who can claim that level of excellence is miniscule. The fact that I can picture a future where Saran does says a lot about her talent. If she sticks with this stuff, and I hope she does, she could easily do it all, and I can’t wait to watch it happen.
Jon Moxley vs Josh Barnett, Bushido Bloodsport (22/4/24), Bloodsport
The jewel in Bloodsport’s crown is still Minoru Suzuki vs Josh Barnett. Truthfully, it wasn’t really a shoot-style match (it’s a style that Suzuki appears to have little interest in indulging these days), but it took elements of that, combined it with some outstanding pro-wrestling bullshit and came together into something joyfully delirious. The main event of Bloodsport’s first show in Japan never quite reached that level, but I think it’s the first time they’ve come close. There has been a lot of good stuff since then, some of it on this show, but when we’re talking about the kind of dumb machismo bullshit that people expect from a show named after a Jean Claude Van Damme movie, this is so much closer to the goal.
A huge part of that came from Moxley’s willingness to dig a blade into his forehead. Before that moment, this was good. Mox probably doesn’t get the credit he deserves for his mat work, with him and Barnett displaying some strong, meaty grappling as they fought for control. There was nothing smooth or elegant about their rolling around on the mat. It was two big, muscley guys battling for every hold, and Barnett’s use of that power elevated everything. When he struggled to his feet to escape a choke, he spun Mox around and drove him into the ring post, busting him open in the most satisfying of ways.
Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t perfectly satisfying. On a rewatch, it’s obvious Mox’s head comes nowhere near the post, and in his hurry to dig the blade in, he managed to cut open the wrong side of his head. But who cares about that shit? By the time Mox returned to the ring, the blood was pumping. A few seconds later, it wasn’t only coating his skin but Barnett’s, all while staining the ring mat a lovely shade of red. I know some people get squeamish about blood in wrestling, and I won’t tell you that you’re wrong to be so, but this is the power of it. A good blade job can transform the good into the thrilling. The red stuff gushing from Mox’s head brought a sense of urgency to this match, especially when he began selling the idea that he might pass out from its loss.
Plus, even being able to pinpoint the exact moment Mox bladed doesn’t change the fact that it makes it feel real. There was no WWE blood pack or squirt of ketchup. That was a man leaking all over the place, and whatever you think about wrestling, you can’t deny that. It was dripping into his eyes while making his arms and legs slick as it melded with his sweat. If the goal of wrestling is to make you forget its staged nature, then bleeding is surely its most powerful tool. It’s undeniable. The sight of it can take something that I enjoyed and make it unforgettable, and if that’s not worth ignoring a few flaws in the execution, I don’t know what is.
Arisa Nakajima & Makoto vs Saran & Yoshiko Hasegawa, After the Rain (23/4/24), Ice Ribbon
When I sit down and try to put my finger on what I love about wrestling, I always return to the journey. The journey of watching some young, timid rookie nervously step through those ropes for the first time and then come alive. It might take minutes or years, but the moment when it clicks and that confidence comes flooding in is one of the most beautiful things in the world. I don’t claim to know these people. We see a tiny snippet of a whole, but in our own way, we get to watch them grow up. We see them figure out who they are, whether with or without wrestling, and that’s a special thing. I mean, in what other sport can you see such a pivotal moment as the one where a young wrestler is stupid enough to slap Arisa Nakajima across the face?
And yet, when Saran did that in this match, I cheered. Oh, I knew what was coming, we all did, but that didn’t make it any less satisfying. It wasn’t that long ago she was this nervous wee thing, the one who cried her way through a gauntlet match because she was so tired, and now she’s spitting defiance in the face of the scariest woman in the world. It was a coming-of-age moment, the second where Arisa went from dismissing her as just another kid wrestler to treating her like an opponent. While that ultimately meant Saran probably woke up feeling battered and bruised, it still meant something. She showed she is willing to fight the devil, and whether she has a whole career in wrestling or walks away in the next few years, that’s a hell of a talent to have.
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