Stan Hansen (c) vs Mitsuharu Misawa
Triple Crown Heavyweight Championship
08/22/1992
Nippon Budokan, Tokyo, Japan
(reviewed 04/18/2024) Between the endless accolades and the years-long title reigns, the picture you probably have in your head of Mitsuharu Misawa is that of a winner. Worth noting, though, that he’d hadn’t won much up to this point: a single, fairly short tag title reign with Toshiaki Kawada is all he’d accomplished since tearing off that tiger-striped mask two years ago. That might give comments he made before this match some necessary context. Having lost his three previous Triple Crown title matches and all four of his bouts with Stan Hansen, Misawa vows that if he loses again here he won’t challenge for the belts for a full year. Might be stirring stuff if not for the fact that most guys only get a title shot once a year in AJPW anyway, especially by this point in the 90s. If anything it highlights Misawa’s favored status, as he already lost to Hansen a few months ago. (“Gee Bill, how come your mom lets you have two title shots?”) What I find more interesting are Misawa’s post-match comments, made after he finally wins the Triple Crown. As recorded in our friend Cameren Lee’s translation of Hidetoshi Ichinose’s 2019 Four Pillars biography, linked above, Misawa describes this victory as “being as much his battle against his own body as that against Hansen.” Subsequent coverage in Weekly Pro Wrestling magazine, which Ichinose worked for at the time, has it framed the same way:
Weekly Pro Wrestling Issue #511, dated 09/08/1992
“Victory of the body,” it reads, running alongside the victor’s name. An appropriate headline, considering his recent shoulder separation and the supposed “Ace of Glass” controversy. But it doesn’t tell the whole story.
Far and away the best match we’ve seen in this review series to date is Misawa’s singles rematch against bitter intergenerational rival Jumbo Tsuruta. This title switch is more like that September 1990 classic than any other match we’ve seen since, not in terms of quality so much as content. Both feature a man fighting his physical form and the pointed use of signature elbow strikes; we see the latter almost immediately, as Hansen backs Misawa into the ropes with their opening lockup and the challenger responds right away with an elbow to the face. Recognizing the exceptional weapon in his arsenal just like he did against Jumbo, Misawa returns to these elbows again and again throughout the match to make cutoffs and buy himself some time against such a relentless opponent.
Where this match differs from—and proves to be much worse than—that Jumbo rematch is in the dueling limbwork. Misawa switches between feeble attempts at mitigating the Western Lariat with various armbars and cranking endlessly on a headlock; neither go much of anywhere and are just to fill time. Hansen likewise targets Misawa’s recent shoulder injury, a much more meaningful effort that manages to draw brief bits of emotion out of the challenger like we’ve seen recently. Can’t begin to describe how frustrating it is that the only time this guy ever emotes is when someone yanks on his injured arm. It takes an unintentional injury to make him sympathetic, never anything he does for himself—and I guess that’s really my whole issue with the guy. Misawa just isn’t a reactive wrestler at all. Nothing in the realm of kayfabe ever impacts him and, being that’s where the wrestling happens, it means his matches are dull as dishwater. Instead of reacting to anything, instead of actively engaging with the match as it unfolds, things simply happen for him; the world sits at his feet, unfurling as a red carpet before a king. Misawa doesn’t knock Hansen down with a kick so much as he kicks and Hansen then falls for him, a cooperative concession of pro wrestling never so painfully obvious as in this man’s matches.
As with so many others, the highlight of this match is that brief moment in which Misawa actually reacts to something. Hansen slams the man shoulder-first onto the guard rail and, when the champion repeatedly tries knocking him off the apron as he reenters the ring, Misawa fearlessly responds with knees to the head and a slingshot elbow drop. Finally some fire from this wounded challenger, right before he… goes back to pointless armwork. On top of being pretty boring, these time-killing holds feel beneath Misawa, especially when this is where he finally wins the titles; cranking on a headlock isn’t him besting the champion but rather wearing him down, something that hasn’t worked before and shouldn’t work here.
Moreover it robs this match of its intended stakes. I think this is unarguably the biggest win of Misawa’s career. That initial upset over Jumbo was a fluke and besides, he’s out of the picture now. Without that rival to overcome, Misawa has nowhere else to go after ascending to this level. The likes of Kenta Kobashi and Toshiaki Kawada will essentially always be his inferiors, hangers-on who won’t win these titles for years to come nor defend them so definitively. Nothing he accomplishes after this will mean so much but you wouldn’t know it based on how he acts, whether in the match itself or in the moments afterward. Watching Misawa sit around in holds with stony indifference, I can’t help but think of his post-match comments. Forget the bum shoulder or any other injury he’s accumulated over the years; if September 1990 was Jumbo fighting against his failing health, this “battle against his own body” is Misawa failing to overcome his own lack of expressiveness.
And why would he even try? It’s not like it’s stopped him from coming this far. Hansen is almost immaterial here. He was always going to lose, just as Misawa was always going to be handed this prize regardless of how he did in this or any other match. No matter how oblivious, how nonreactive, how unexpressive Misawa becomes, he’s always ordained to win.
Nowhere is that better exemplified than with the finish. Misawa clocks Hansen with one elbow, then another, then watches the man fall face-down to the mat. He doesn’t go for the pin right away, slumping to his knees before slowly rolling the American over. I’d say the fans are just as surprised as Misawa if he managed to register any surprise at all, if any sort of emotion flashed across his face as a bewildered Hansen shakes his hand, as the titles are draped over his drooped shoulders. If he expresses anything it’s confusion, confusion that Budokan is chanting his name so fervently, baffled that these people could possibly care so much.
I’m with you there, pal. I don’t get it either.
Brock Hates Wrestling 