Akira Maeda

[GOTNW]

Maeda was a great shoot style worker. I don't think he could completely keep up with the RINGS style he envisioned (especially once injuries caught up with him) but he still had some great stuff against the right opponents like Han, Tamura and Yamamoto. And I'll give him bonus points for creating a badass style in the first place. His sketchy RINGS resume doesn't diminish what he accomplished in UWF. When one of your main criticisms of the guy is "well he wasn't as good as Fujiwara and Ishikawa", well, it's easy to see why the critique fell apart, anyone who doesn't have those two in their top 10 is a wanker.

[elliott]

I ranked Maeda 38th in 2016 and I definitely overrated a favorite. I had a tendency to punish my favorites, but Maeda slipped through the cracks and ended up higher than he should have. The things that make him standout like selling or creating an aura are things I really value though and I think his resume' of high end matches is incredible. So I don't feel too bad for overrating him. I expect him to make my next list but not in the top 40. 

[Control21]

Akira Maeda ended up #4 on my ballot. The more I watch his matches, the more I think he was severely underrated last time. 

Maeda was a unique individual and wrestler. Compared to some of the other shoot-style greats, he wasn't an unbelievable mat wrestler like Han or Tamura, he wasn't a master craftsman like Fujiwara, and he didn't have specialties like fighting out of corners. Maeda made up for these weaknesses by being a prophet and a revolutionary, qualities that shaped his in-ring work as much as they shaped his legacy outside the ring. He was a movement leader in the truest sense, because he made fans feel like part of something rather than merely spectators.

Shoot-style is often seen as cold and dry, a style that doesn't elicit the same level of engagement as Memphis or CMLL's brand of Lucha Libre. Fans were often silent due to the style demanding close attention, but Maeda's matches were different at key moments. He drew the crowd into his approach, making them active participants rather than observers. His epic comebacks and sudden bursts of energy were critical centerpieces precisely because they triggered something visceral in the audience. This, I think, is why Maeda built such a devoted following. People believed they were part of something important and extraordinary. The best example of this I can come up with is the match against Don Nakaya Nielsen in 1986. When Maeda started gaining momentum in the match, it was like a revolutionary leader rousing his base to achieve something with him.

A common thread throughout Maeda's career is his identity as an outsider. A punk who went against the grain, seemingly as much for both pleasure and strategic in-ring reasons. His retirement video, set to Sid Vicious' cover of "My Way," was fitting in this sense. That same spirit bled into the ring. In most of his major matches, outside of his later RINGS work, there was a gritty underdog quality to how he positioned himself against his opponents, a sense that he was always fighting uphill, always the agitator. This gave fans something to latch onto beyond the action itself. People resonated with the punk outsider archetype, and younger male viewers in particular seemed to find something of themselves in his rebellious undertones. It only deepened their devotion.

All of this, for me, made it easy to deeply engage with his work. I never lose the sense that I am watching a wrestling rebel trying to lead his people to the promised land, even if it means getting his hands dirty, as in the case of kicking Choshu in the face or beating up on a drunk Andre. This dynamic became especially pronounced in RINGS, where Maeda appeared to push realism even further, striving to give his followers a renewed sense of purpose and belief in him after the collapse of the UWF and the subsequent exodus.