Low Context Match Reviews: Akira Maeda vs. Tatsumi Fujinami

Note: In an effort to jump-start my writing habits, I’m going to start writing short reviews about classic wrestling matches. I’ll only be picking matches that are free for consumption, and I aim to do at least one of these every week.

On its surface & pushed to its extremes, wrestling often seems like a silly form of low-brow entertainment that doesn't warrant any serious criticism. And to be fair—thanks to one megalomanic's 40-year efforts to monopolize the industry & dumb the most prevalent renditions of the genre down for the sake of corporate sponsorship & mass consumption—much of the American product doesn't. That said, one doesn't need to dive very deep into the artform’s 130-year-long history to see it's complexities: pro wrestling spans continents & is influenced by the narrative structures of so many cultures & (when done well) can elicit the same emotional responses that any form of great art can. Yes, it can be silly. But a great wrestling match moves me the same way a great film does. And to understand why I'm so captivated by this art form has been one of the more envigoring (if arduous!) intellectual pursuits I've ever undertaken.

All to say: writing about wrestling is harder than I thought it’d be! Like with poetry, I have weak spots & much more to learn. But I also have things to say! So hopefully, this exercise will help me build some better routines (and maybe a little more confidence).

xoxo gossip girl

New Japan Pro Wrestling
June 12th, 1986
IWGP Champion Series
Link: via Internet Archive

The crowd at Osaka-Jo Hall is incredibly electric when this match starts. Short of two picture-perfect backdrops—Maeda’s as a counter to a standing dragon sleeper, Fujinami’s as a counter to a standing wrist lock—the first 13 minutes of this bout is pure mat wrestling. This is logical match psychology: Fujinami has to compensate for Maeda’s height and length advantage, and thus has to depend almost entirely on ground-based submission holds and counters to have any chance here. In turn, Maeda is calculated when throwing strikes, cognizant that his length advantage will keep Fujinami at bay.

Maeda is in the top form for this match, and despite of his reputation of being difficult to work with (he imfamously tried to shoot on ANDRE THE FUCKING GIANT two months prior to this match). it’s easy to see why he was so highly rated at the time. After a mat break, Maeda rocks Fujinami with a measured kick to the thigh, and as soon as Fujinami shakes off the stinger it's clear that Maeda will be working a strike-based attack. From that point forward, Maeda shifts into an opportunistic mercenary, made most evident after a series of vicious high kicks to Fujinami's dome as he struggle to stay upright in the corner.

The match structure of this gem mirrors many of the “strong style” matches that became popular after Antonio Inoki left New Japan in 2005, but don’t get it twisted: this match is pure Ionokiism and the crowd is fucking loving it. They lose their shit when Fujinami locks Maeda in a bow-and-arrow and then quickly hits him with a standing piledriver. From this point forward, the match pivots towards brutality: Maeda mixes a series of stiff kicks to Fujinami’s face with well-placed shots at his ailing thigh. Fujinami is fighting an uphill battle at this point, expending most of his energy on rope breaks until he buys enough time to strike his way off the ropes and catch Maeda with a bridging German Suplex that doesn’t even make it to a two-count.

It fucking prog rock from this point forward, brother, and we’re right in the middle of the flanger riffs. Fujinami hits a series of high kicks to the chest; Maeda responds by catching a Fujinami cross-body and hitting him with an ungodly exploder; for reasons clear to absolutely no one, Maeda hip tosses Fujinami (and himself) over the rope and out of the ring. Heavy fucking shit.

Once back in the ring, Fujinami is able to briefly lock Maeda into a Sasori-Gatame, which sends the crowd into delirium. But the action reaches an unexpected crescendo when Maeda finally lands a rolling heel kick to make up for the one he missed at the start of the match. Fujinami’s eye is gushing blood a mere second after the blow, and the crowd is treated to a stunning visual as he slumps down the ropes, the bright red plasma already starting to pool on the blue canvas. Somehow, he survives a ferocious low-angle dragon sleeper and then a float-over snap suplex, and—in a last-ditch effort to counter another running heel kick—throws a jumping knee strike that causes both workers to collide. Neither performer is able to beat the ten count and so this barn burner, unfortunately, ends in a draw.

This is a very hard match to grade, largely because the ending falls so flat. But the dry hump of a finish is a testiment to the gruesomeness that precedes it—had the heel of Maeda's boot not clipped Fujinami's eyebrow, this very good match would have been overshadowed by its main event & only be remembered by the audience that was lucky enough to see it in person. It's shocking in its brutality & remains a compelling watch to this day.

Rating: ***1/4