Shinya Hashimoto Proves that Pro Wrestling is the Strongest
Take your shoot style out of our hallowed halls.
When it’s real, it hits like a ton of bricks. The difficult thing to convey sometimes is that the best pro wrestling isn’t complicated. When I see Shinya Hashimoto standing at the curtain, hands pressed together against in his face in meditation, I get it. I don’t need the history of the UWFi, the context of Takada’s title reign, or any of that other stuff. That one image carries all the emotion needed to sustain the match—Shinya Hashimoto has one goal, and that’s to bring home the IWGP Heavyweight Championship.
As with so many things though, context enriches things. Nobuhiko Takada is an invader, after all. He’s carrying the name of the UWFi on his back, and has returned to New Japan as something of a spiteful prodigal son. Not here to regain forgiveness or validation from the institution that formed him, but rather to seize and control and prove his brand of combat sports superior to all else.
In that sense, this match pitting Takada’s “REAL wrestling” against Shinya Hashimoto’s ability, we return to the core of Inoki’s vision of throwing pro wrestling into the crucible so that it can be proven the strongest. The winner here isn’t just fighting for interpromotional pride and the IWGP Title, they are fighting to determine what truly is the strongest style.
Spoiler: it’s pro fucking wrestling.
The match itself is a simple thing as well. I certainly wouldn’t describe its construction as layered and intricate. The majority of it is worked around kicks, attempted arm bars, and the occasional big power spot. Luckily, that’s all you need when the narrative is this straightforward and the crowd is this hot. The tens of thousands in attendance at the Tokyo Dome want Hash to pull this off more than anything, and when you watch Hash it’s not hard to see why.
People often talk about the moments in between moves, and it’s often as a means to de-emphasize the importance of literal wrestling action in a match. What it really should mean is that all the space between moments should actively enhance what’s already there. That’s what I get from a match like this. Note Hashimoto’s unwavering concentration throughout the match. Not a single moment sees him break mentally, he’s locked in all through the national anthem and from bell to bell. That man is locked the fuck in and I would give him the world if I could.
Takada too plays his role here. Watch his face after he absorbs those first few powerful leg kicks from Hashimoto. There’s fear in that man’s eyes, the dawning understanding that perhaps time’s up and that someone bigger, badder, and better will put an end to his claim at the top spot. Perhaps it’s just how magnetic Hashimoto is from the word go here, but by the time Takada shows that tiniest hint of vulnerability, I’m dying to see him eat all the shit.
It doesn’t help that Takada here isn’t really delivering on peak shoot style goodness. That may just be a matter of the stylistic mix of working with Hashimoto, but there’s none of the extended struggle on the mat or even the crazier striking one can expect from the best names in that field. What he does gets the idea across though, always going for that arm bar, kicking at the limb as well to try and soften Hash up.
I do also enjoy Takada feeling like a fish out of water under the pro wrestling ruleset. Early on when he nails that beautiful back drop on Hashimoto, he does it as a cut off to go back into the submission attempts instead of considering attempting a pinfall. Hashimoto also wonderfully plays off of this as well, not really going for pinfalls either, even when he nails that beautiful spiking brainbuster that he’s been going for all match. He drops Takada on his head and ensures that there’s no room for doubt.
Hashimoto knocks that man out, grabs the arm bar, and makes him tap out. Beats Takada at his own game, stands victorious over this invader, proves what Antonio Inoki set out to do: pro wrestling is the strongest style.
A rousing, fist pumping victory for those of us devoted to this. Watch the crowd in the Tokyo Dome lose their minds, they get it as well. When it’s real, it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Rating: ****1/4
It's interesting to see a match where Hashimoto falls into the rhythms of "shooting" and wins by submission as a victory for New Japan style wrestling. Didn't he have to adapt to the other man's world to win? It's almost an admission that the wrestling he knew wasn't enough, something made more explicit by Ogawa just a few short years later.
I'm glad I re-watched this match on Joseph's stream. I forgot how incredible it was at conveying everything that makes pro wrestling great philosophically. The match stands on its own quite well. The story it tells connects at a very simple level in terms of the emotions we feel as human beings.