How Hangman Page Will Change Everything About Pro Wrestling
In a stunning story arc pulsing with as much intrigue as match quality, these diametrically opposed men - the hard-drinking cowboy and the affected teetotaller Canadian - developed an instant chemistry. Omega was fabulous at blitzing his opponents and had the stamina to endure the double-team; Page's explosive stopping power marked him as the perfect hot tag guy. They were made for one another as professionals as much as they were distanced as human beings.
The storytelling threaded across their matches and interactions with the Young Bucks was unrivalled in the history of North American TV. Barely any of it was expositional under wrestling's standard tell-don't-show framework, which in part positions the medium beneath art in the minds of its critics or those apathetic towards it. The timing and the motive behind those hot tags was something else. The audience was asked as many questions as they thrilled by the incredible moves bell-to-bell: Is Hangman Page the glory-hogging heel? Or should we be sympathetic towards his need to overcompensate? Is he selfish, by celebrating alone? Or are Omega and the Bucks sharing in Page's breakout success to mask their own failures?
And Page was the breakout star of the storyline; fans loved his ass-kicking physicality and drunken swagger. But it was always a front, as revealed to quiet devastation at Revolution. In the genre's masterpiece, the sight of Page using the One-Winged Angel to connect with Omega - where Omega has borrowed from the arsenals of most every peer other than the Hangman - was a sad moment masquerading as a babyface pop. What an unbelievable distillation of the character this was.
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