The Lesson WWE BADLY Needs To Learn From The NJPW G1 Climax

Rematches are spaced out, generally. There’s no sense of numbing repetition, of guys resonating as just “guys” through the most arbitrary of quickly-traded wins. Nobody wins one week and loses to the very same opponent one week later, resulting in confusion and any semblance of a tier. A win is always built towards; a loss is rarely framed as a humiliation. It’s impossible to look upon the fallen, drenched in sweat with an icepack stuck to their battered neck, as a loser.

The number doesn’t even include Will Ospreay—the pick of many as this year’s MVP. He has lost more than he was won, but has brought the fight of his life every night. Trickier to accomplish within the WWE schedule, that still does not excuse the baffling “He stole one!” trope.

Nothing is stolen in New Japan. Even losses are earned; to level up to Tomohiro Ishii, Juice Robinson wrestled his brutal match, knowing the danger inherent to it. He lost, bravely, in a minor classic. He lost an ass-kicking contest to the warrior of the G1, and there was no shame in it. He could be proud just for bringing the fight. The approach is devoid, totally, of bullsh*t. Every decision is clean; nothing is muddied. Most every wrestler emerges from a loss with their integrity intact.

With plate-spinning concentration, Gedo judges who can lose, and when, without suffering. Hirooki Goto, crucial to the early years of this boom period, is approaching geek territory now. But he is the rule-proving exception.

At time of writing, there are no fewer than seven viable winners still alive across each block. When was the last time this could be written of WWE’s G1 analogue—the Royal Rumble?

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