This review was commissioned by Nicholas Anderson over on my Ko-fi account.
There’s no underestimating the importance of occasion for a match like this. Where a November white belt match can end up overblown yet weightless at once, there’s just something powerful about the end of a long August round robin tournament inside one of Japan’s most beautiful arenas. Ever since 1991, the G1 Climax has been seen as a standard of excellence, and at this point of its history, has well eclipsed the prestige of even a much longer tenured tournament in the Champion Carnival. While it’s no Sumo Hall, the home of the G1 forever and always, the Budokan still bears a hefty place in pro wrestling history, and major matches conducted within are imbued with that gravitas.
Timing matters here as well. In 2018, Bushiroad’s New Japan is reaching the tail end of its cultural and critical dominance over the wrestling landscape. Within half a year, a considerable number of their top foreign stars would breakaway to form All Elite Wrestling–a move that opened the floodgates for main event Japanese talent to seek their fortunes on a mainstream, American stage. It’s hard to say how fast moves were made backstage and how aware the New Japan office was of the seismic shift to the business that was rapidly approaching, but here in August of 2018 they are riding out some of the last moments of their most beloved era of this century.
Mirroring the company itself, Hiroshi Tanahashi.
At this point, Tana is two years removed from one of the most definitive passing of the torch moments in pro wrestling history. Tana’s loss against Kazuchika Okada in the Tokyo Dome in 2016 marked the end of what might be termed Tana’s run as ace within the company. Obviously, there’s enough of a gray area there to quibble as Tana would be turned to as a major draw and champion for the company long after that, but the line in the sand is fairly clear. Regardless of what our hearts may say, Tana in 2018 was no longer The Man within New Japan.
Which is why all those moments when he proves that he still can be The Man shine so bright. It’s a stance of both character and ideology, Tanahashi as this aging veteran clinging to as much of the spotlight as still can, but also representing a certain philosophy of in-ring performance that stands in stark contrast to the on trend style taking hold in New Japan. While Tanahashi shares much of the blame for where the New Japan style would go, it’s his lesser imitators that truly tarnish it whereas Tanahashi himself (mostly) maintains a standard of quality that holds up to this day.
The 2018 G1 Climax hinges on the fans backing Tanahashi in that struggle against time, his enemies, and himself.
The final plays on this dynamic beautifully, with all the elements surrounding the bout serving to highlight these conflicts. Take, for example, the choice of seconds that each man brings to ringside. For Ibushi, it’s the IWGP Heavyweight Champion and longtime friend, lover, and rival Kenny Omega. For Tanahashi, there’s a closing of the loop with him being backed by Katsuyori Shibata. Tanahashi and Shibata often found themselves at odds through the 2010s, with their clashing ideologies and careers being in constant opposition to each other. With Shibata backing him here, there’s a recognition of kinship, that at the end of the day they were both products of the same system and time of pro wrestling.
All of this informs why the match itself carries so much weight. Just listen to the crowd chant “TANAHASHI” as soon as the bell rings, and it’s clear to see that the sentimental power of the matchup has already taken root.
It’s entirely to Tanahashi and Ibushi’s shared credit that their work lives up to the moment. While this isn’t a total rewriting of the formula they set the previous November, there’s enough significant change here that dramatically shifts the final product. Where the early chain work feels rote and rushed in the November match, Ibushi and Tanahashi take their time here. Some of the holds actually stay on and have to be escaped with a little more effort than usual. This is still 2010s New Japan we’re talking about though, so it’s not much of consequence in the grand scheme of things, but at least matters moment to moment moreso than a rush of attempted waistlocks.
Leg work also presents itself here–it’s a Hiroshi Tanahashi match after all–but even there, I find noted improvements. Where Ibushi flung himself about with and literally sprang off his feet with a mindless abandon in November, here his choice offense feels limited enough to never detract from Tanahashi’s leg work. Instead of springing straight up into a double stomp for his first comeback, he throws himself into a kick instead in a way that feels sudden, urgent, and not nearly complicated enough to shrug off Tanahashi’s work entirely.
As he did in November, Ibushi does also sell the leg in quiter moments of the match. He’s good at taking those dragon screws and conveying the pain of them, and here he again registers pain after hitting offense, but it’s in the simplifying of that offense that he’s able to curb much of the annoyance I felt from the Power Struggle bout. It also helps that it feels like Ibushi has to be a little bit craftier to nail his signature stuff here. Instead of just catching Tana with that double stomp in the ring, for example, he almost has to lure the old man onto the ring apron to make it work.
Again, this is not a perfect leg selling bout from Ibushi who will leap and spring as always. But there’s just enough of a change and a refinement of choice to get it about as close as you can with him short of him actually wrestling with a bad leg.
As for Tanahashi himself, the man is on fire here. From already bordering on tears just at his entrance, to all the moments he has to take in between offense, this is a masterclass of engaging a crowd and drawing upon their sympathy. It’s almost cliche to say, but watch Tanahashi in between all the action. He’s always working on our emotions here, seeking the strength within himself, and then reaching for the crowd when what’s within isn’t sufficient. There’s a gorgeous moment towards the end of the bout where Ibushi deadlifts Tana up for that apron German suplex, and you see Tana just reaching for the people in a final, futile attempt at defense.
What makes this match so enduring as well is that our sympathy is rewarded. Pro wrestling is about finding people to believe in, and faith rewarded is a truly special experience. That presents himself here in the momentous strike exchange between the two in the final act. These Tanahashi/Ibushi matches tend to break down in the finishing stretch, becoming much more about a real visceral gut check than an exchange of strategy. It happens here when that powerful slap from Tanahashi sends Ibushi into that mode that many have termed Murder Ibushi. Again, the occasion is entirely worthwhile, and Ibushi’s dead-eyed attack forcing Tanahashi into the corner reads like doom setting in.
Note the stages of Tanahashi’s comeback here. It’s in the segmentation that he’s able to milk the most emotion from the moment. First, he rises and then walks through Ibushi, absorbing the strikes and powering along, backing Ibushi up into the corner without hitting back. Then, laying in his own flurry of slaps, rocking the younger worker before finally getting cut off with the lariat. The match smartly delays the final catharsis, showing that Tana has a lot of fire left in his belly but that Ibushi’s youth and power might yet win out.
But sometimes, fire in the belly and the heart beating strong can win out. It helps to have a couple of counters prepared as well. Tanahashi scouts the Kamigoye and stuffs Ibushi’s attempt with a front facelock that turns into a couple of desperate Twist and Shouts. From there, there’s enough in him to hit three High Fly Flows–each different from the last, ensuring that even at this point of repetition, Tana rewards us for paying attention–to get that beautiful, sweet victory.
Night and day from their Power Struggle. Something weightless against a match that carries the burden of the world upon its shoulders.
A certified G1 classic.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? This one actually feels fairly close to me. They both have similar flaws in that I don’t always love the material used to fill out the runtime, but also have similar strengths in how thrilling their final moments can get. In this occasion, I think the smaller gap in quality between Misawa and Kawada’s performances allow them to have a match that feels a lot richer and more complete in comparison. While 6/3/94 may lack the same, euphoric victory, I think as a whole, they have a stronger bout than this G1 Final. A win for the King’s Road.
Rating: ****½
