Childs

I would dearly love to see some of the '70s Hoshino that Meltzer referenced in his obit. Sadly, there's not a Hoshino-level "find" on the All Japan set. There are guys who are better than I thought, like later-period Yatsu and young Tenta, but nobody shocked me. Takashi Ishikawa might fit this topic, but he's more of a WAR find than an All-Japan find.

The beauty of this was that every guy kept his eye on the big picture of the match (getting Akiyama over as a frontline player) without sacrificing the excitement or execution of the individual sequences. Akiyama obviously got the flashy role and carried it off well. But Misawa was equally great as the ace who could totally reconfigure the picture of the match so his little buddy's star turn would come off. Kawada was great, moving from dismissive prickishness to his realization that Akiyama was a real threat. Taue showed exceptional timing with his big moves, which kept allowing he and Kawada to pursue their 2-on-1 strategy. Just a very well constructed performance that might be my MOTY so far.

This match has never received much hype, but it was damn good. I loved Kawada blitzing Kobashi at the bell and the mid-match sequence built around submission attempts. Kawada did a great job selling the right shin as his weak point, and that made the two brutal kicks at the end all the more dramatic. I know there has been some backlash against the idea of All-Japan as the transcendant promotion of this era. But this set allows us to compare promotions in context, and they really did crank out matches every month that would have been strong MOTY contenders for almost every other company. New Japan also had a strong year to this point. I'm not sure anyone else would even be in the conversation.

This just never built into the match it could have been. I appreciated the story of Yamamoto winning all the early mat exchanges and accumulating a big lead in the scoring system. Kohsaka seemed primed for a great rally with his back against the wall, but it never really materialized.

I appreciated the sense of rivalry and emotion between the teams, but this suffered from a lot of the problems that plague joshi in general. Despite having an obvious asskicker in Kansai, they didn't do much to establish differentiated roles early in the match. They robbed cool moments of meaning by always racing on to the next thing. The finishing stretch went about five brutal suplexes too long. There were a few sequences I really liked, but I doubt this will be one of my 100 favorite matches by the time we get to the end of the year.

This was just awesome until all the run-ins midway through the tercera caida. I loved the handheld work here; it made me feel I was a few feet away from (and sometimes in the middle of) a nasty, nasty fight. The reckless topes came across particularly well. Ultraman was also eons better here than in their January match. The last few minutes dragged, in part because the multiple run-ins and elaborately set-up highspots had become cliche in AAA. I wanted to watch these two crazy fuckers finish their fight. Konnan clearing the ring with a bat and a bunch of rudos helping Psicosis find a functional table just distracted from that. Anyway, I was still happy to see 3/4 of a great match.

I might put the trainwreck percentage above 60, but this was a hell of a spectacle and I'm glad it was on the set. Psicosis' performance might have been the greatest attempt at suicide by wrestling I've ever seen. He just kept doing insane dives to nowhere. Ultraman mostly sucked dog, but it didn't matter who Psicosis was wrestling. This was more elemental than man vs. man; it was man vs. fear.

Straw drove himself off the cliff but he also had the brief bounceback when he hit 24 homers for the Yanks in 1998. It's kind of amazing that the man was in the thickest fucking wilderness imaginable for seven years but was so talented that he could re-emerge to slug .542 at age 36. For fun off-the-cliff stuff, you have to love Smoky Joe Wood, who went 34-5 at age 22, was done as a pitcher at age 25 but hit .366 with 60 RBI in 66 games as an outfielder at age 31. That's some Roy Hobbs shit.

He had a hell of a year here in Baltimore, long after his glory days in Cincy. Let's see -- .327 with 28 HR, .970 OPS at age 36. Not bad at all. With Davis, of course, injuries were always the problem. He was just never meant to play 150 games a year. But he had Hall-of-Fame talent. Dave Parker was an off-the-cliff guy who bounced back. That was a coke thing.

I don't know. Garvey wasn't really any good after 1980. I l know he made a couple All-Star teams but that was based on reputation and the fact that he still hit .280. The drop from where he was in 1984 to not deserving a job wasn't that far The fall-off-a-cliff list gets much longer if you open it up to guys like Baerga and Mayberry. Ted Kluszewski averaged 43 homers and hit .300 every year between 1953 and 1956. He never hit more than 15 homers again. In 1953, Al Rosen had one of the great offensive seasons ever by a third baseman. He declined to mere excellence the following season, fell to barely average the following two years and was done after 1956. Charlie Keller looked like a surefire Hall-of-Famer through age 29 and never played more than 83 games in a season again. It all goes to show that the gap between great and obsolete is a lot slimmer than we tend to think.

Chipper Jones put up 2.7-3.2 WAR (depending on whose WAR you trust) in a half season this year though. Schmidt went from MVP candidate to below-replacement overnight. Schmidt was still above replacement in 1988. Then he decided to walk away after a rough start in 1989. But regardless of the specific comparison to Chipper, my greater point was that lots of Hall-of-Famers -- whether Babe Ruth, Jimmie Foxx, Joe DiMaggio or George Brett -- have gone from elite to out of the sport in a matter of a few seasons. The slope often gets steep at the end, and there was nothing hugely unusual about the way Schmidt finished up.

It's not uncommon for great players to fall off a cliff at the end. If you want an example at the same position, it just happened to Chipper Jones, who hit at an MVP level in 2008 and might be done now. What was unusual about Schmidt was his ability to play near his peak level until age 37.

It's much easier to judge the performance of athletes we've barely seen than it is to judge the performance of wrestlers we've barely seen. Their statistics, relative to others from the same era, tell us a lot. As for the importance of historical knowledge to sportswriting, it's certainly a nice tool to have but not the be-all, end-all. I know guys without a deep grasp of history who do a great job covering teams.

I'm not sure anyone in NJ would have matched up with Flair better than Jumbo did in the early '80s. Jumbo did lots of theatrical stuff and was very experienced working the long title matches that Flair loved to do as touring champ. I wonder if the "flashier NJ" thing has been overblown, especially if we're talking heavyweights. I guess I buy that Choshu ushered in a faster, more direct style, but he impacted both promotions. I don't think the shootstyle influence would have been a positive for Flair. I'm not picking on your point Kris; I've just thought a lot about the differences between AJ and NJ over the last year. And if anything, All Japan seemed the more American of the two in the '80s.

Oh, I agree that Baba did not have a plan for him as he clearly did for Misawa. I just think that as he saw what Kawada could do, he gave him time for long matches on TV and paired him up with Tenryu semi-regularly, stuff that I hadn't seen him do for similar-sized wrestlers in the past. The decision to pair Hansen with Tenryu was a sign that Kawada wasn't considered ready, but his arc still seemed on the ascent, and I never took Hansen and Tenryu as a long-term pairing. Kawada did not seem headed for top billing in '89, but he also did not seem headed for Takashi Ishikawa territory. I think he could've ended up as a Yatsu to Tenryu's Jumbo.

I've recently watched Kawada's career unfold week by week in reviewing stuff for the '80s project. And it's absolutely true that he not only looked small but wrestled like a small guy, albeit a hard-hitting one. But Baba clearly saw his talent, pushing him into into positions that were unusual for guys of his stature and style. If Tenryu had stayed, I assume Kawada would have settled in for a long run as his No. 2. That's where he seemed to be headed in 1989.

Sounds like he should be OK, though.

I knew that if I followed the interwebs for long enough, I'd see Segunda Caida compared to the New Yorker.

I'm watching the Classics that cover the mid-'80s as I make nominations for the DVDVR All Japan set, and it's really striking how little Dibiase stood out. His offense was bland, and he did nothing to establish his character beyond "generic sidekick for Hansen." So that's exactly how the crowd treated him. I assume a hardcore All-Japan fan would have scoffed at the idea of Ted as the best male worker in the world during that time. I would actually use his Japanese run as evidence against his inherent star power.

The bigger answer is that it was common for top guys to be protected in Japan and not at all particular to New Japan. I'm reviewing All-Japan matches right now, and guys like Baba, Jumbo and Hansen hardly ever lost clean. Misawa rarely took a pin in the '90s and it was a big deal when he did. It's not like it was that different in the U.S. Hogan and Flair weren't exactly taking falls left and right in their heydays.

A lot of the show struck me not as bad but as flat. The 3-way was structured fine, but Rhodes and Dibiase just don't have much presence at this stage. It felt like Orton beating up a few goofy kids who acted up in class. MITB had too many guys and fewer memorable spots than in past years. Why did MVP or Kane need to be in there, for example? HHH-Sheamus exceeded my expectations until the end, which seemed too easy and featured an awful pedigree. Punk-Mysterio was great while it lasted, but I'll be pissed if that was the feud ender. I hope it's like the Rey-Eddy feud in '05, where the Mania match was just kindling. Others have covered the failings of Bret-Vince but Christ, they could have done something to make Vince seem sinister at least. Bret's speech about thwarting his bribery plan was so ham-handed and ill-timed. I kept waiting and waiting for the next phase of Vince's malevolent plan. Without it, Bret's victory felt so hollow. One of the worst Mania segments in recent memory. Jericho turned in a strong performance against Edge, but why do the most memorable spot after the match? Like Sheamus-HHH, it exceeded my low expectations but isn't something I'll remember. Cena-Batista was good but never achieved the clash-of-titans feel I was hoping for. I wanted to see resentment drive Batista to extreme actions. I wanted to see Cena sell a real beating and then do something memorable to overcome it. Instead, they just had a solid wrestling match with some nifty counters and spots. Maybe it's something I'll like better on rewatch. HBK-Taker was the one match that felt like a big deal. Great selling performance by Taker. I've seen people complain about all the finishers but come on, it's the two most (storyline) resilient guys of their generation in one of the most hyped main events ever. By the end, they really seemed like desperate old men willing to risk death so they could stay in the light a few moments longer. That's the kind of broadly melodramatic shit I want from Mania.

I watched the whole Eddy comp over time. But you're right. I don't buy Will's big comps and then watch them straight through. I just love knowing all the key stuff is there, so I can dive into a guy's career at whatever point I want on a given day. Today, I might feel like a disc or two of prime Funk in All-Japan. Next week, I might want to watch old man Terry on the indys. I don't want a superficial, eight-hour comp, because chances are, I've seen everything on it a bunch of times. But I'm not a huge fan of the "complete works" sets either. Will consistently strikes a better balance than any other comp maker.

Who: My best friends in elementary school got pretty excited about the first Wrestlemania and I was swept into the fad. My father always found it ridiculous but was a cool enough parent that he took me to live events and rented WWF videos from the grocery store. What: I started off watching WWF on Saturday mornings and staying up late for Saturday Night's Main Event. My father took me to the Civic Center for my first live show in 1985. The lady in front of us wanted to kill Savage after he beat up SD Jones. The crowd chanted "bullshit, bullshit" after a screwy finish kept the Bulldogs from beating Valentine/Beefcake for the titles. Andre seemed larger than life teaming with Windham and Rotundo against Bundy, Studd and somebody. I loved the whole experience. I tended to take my interests a little further than most of my peers so I started buying the Apter mags at the grocery. They fired my imagination regarding the wider wrestling world. Baltimore was actually a great place to grow up as a wrestling fan, because we got WWF, NWA and UWF on television and both Vince and Crockett hit the Civic Center monthly. My childhood favorites were Savage, Andre, Piper and anybody chasing Flair's belt, especially Windham. I gradually became a pro-NWA snob, though we always went somewhere to watch Wrestlemania on closed circuit. When: I became a fan in 1985, the year I turned nine. My interest faded when I reached high school but rekindled in college when the Monday night wars heated up. I never fell away completely after that, though I didn't become a hardcore, dvd-collecting fan until about five years ago. Where: Baltimore, which was perfect, for reasons already covered. Why: At first, wrestling was something that everyone liked, no different than Transformers or G.I. Joe. I got more deeply into it when I discovered Flair and the more serious, grueling matches of the NWA. The Flair-Windham match from Jan. '87 was transformative, because it was the first one to suck me in as an athletic contest rather than a spectacle. I got to see them live at the Crockett Cup a few months later, still maybe the best match I've watched in person. But I don't know why wrestling has always drawn me back. I tend to research the hell out of my interests, and wrestling fits that proclivity because there's always another company or era to discover. With so much available on tape, I can watch the stuff I only read about as a kid and sort of retroactively experience what it was like to be a fan in 1984 Dallas or 1988 Tokyo or 1995 Philadelphia. Etc. I think I came to hardcore, tape-watching fandom much later than most of you guys. I was aware of the Observer in the '90s but didn't subscribe until probably '05. I read Dave raving about Samoa Joe, which led me to order a few ROH dvds. I had never seen Japanese stuff, so Joe's style really did wow me. I had read about Misawa, Kawada and Kobashi over the years so I decided what the hell, I'd learn a little about those guys as well. That led me to DVDVR and other sites. Five years later, my shelves are cluttered with hundreds of discs, I spend time on sites like this every day and I will happily drive to Delaware to watch Negro Navarro in a banquet hall or to Queens to watch Santito in a dance club. Weird how life unfolds.