10 LIVE Observations From The NJPW/ROH G1 Supercard
9. How To Make A Soy Boy Scream For Eight Straight Minutes
In which the case for eclectic in-ring philosophies was presented to a jury that required no convincing.
The uncut cocaine of Bandido Vs. Dragon Lee Vs. Taiji Ishimori brilliantly tackled an industry-wide problem in the streaming age. The answer to fading crowds is simple: inject them with a shot of pure adrenaline in a head-spinning sprint too action-packed to let absent thoughts wonder, but short enough to crave more. Treat your fans like the junkies they are.
A blitzkrieg whirlwind that defied physics, how Ishimori rotated so quickly and so crisply into the Greatest Canadian Destroyer Of All Time was astonishing.
We've seen a lot this weekend. We've seen thumb wars, two invisible men having a scrap, shoots, worked shoots, anthropomorphic giant wrestlers performing comedy spots, Bob Backlund doing handstands and ordering Adam Wilbourn to buy his book - and yet, here, a rapt, slack-jawed crowd were left to marvel at the most elemental principle at the core of the art:
How the f*ck did they do that, and how did they not really, badly hurt themselves? I've watched wresting for years and years, and I'd like to think I know some things about it. I literally jumped up out of my seat and screamed NO F*CKING WAY when Ishimori took that bump. I was spellbound. That's what wrestling is. And yes, it was flippy sh*t.
The best flippy sh*t, ironically, is as quintessentially 'wrestling' as the atomic drop.