Let’s start at the ending—the explosion that wasn’t.
As the sparklers sparkled and the ringside bombs exploded with all the potency of a disappointing fart, a match that would be talked about for years, a match that was set to expand the legacy of Kenny Omega, to help make his case as the greatest in-ring of a generation, became little more than a meme, an excuse for people looking to take shots at AEW to let loose with their full arsenal of nonsense.
Strangely enough, thanks to the kindness of AEW owner Tony Khan, I was sitting in great seats, lower than the television hard camera that captured the event for the masses and at the perfect angle to have one of the ringside bombs directly in my line of sight as it detonated.
To me, and perhaps me alone, it was the perfect ending to a truly memorable match. Moments later, when the boos began to cascade down and one loud Foghorn Leghorn voice started chanting “refund” I realized the final moment, the one that would make or break the match, snapped it in half.
The internet, as it tends to be, was both funny and brutal. Some responded with light hearted humor. Others, denizens of the dank podcast and pundit scene, declared the promotion would never recover. Almost no one, unfortunately, was talking about all the brilliant work we’d all just witnesses. The 30 glorious minutes that preceded it were erased in that flimsy cloud of smoke.
A real shame. ****1/2
Going to see an AEW show live has always been a really great experience. This was my family’s seventh live pay-per-view and our first outing like this in the year since COVID turned everyone’s life upside down.
It wasn’t quite the same as it was, at least in my memory.
At Double or Nothing in 2019, it felt like we were all a part of something special. The wrestlers, the fans and Tony Khan himself were all committed to the same goal, 15,000 souls all grabbing a rope and yanking wrestling back out of the sport entertainment pit it had fallen into 30 years earlier.
Every subsequent show felt much the same, a group of fans and performers just happy to see by-God-professional-wrestling again in our lifetimes.
This wasn’t quite the same experience.
Instead of traveling throughout the country, AEW has been stuck in Jacksonville for months, performing in front of the same crowd of increasingly jaded fans. That might have worked in Memphis in 1982, but in a world filled with shrinking attention spans and growing entertainment options for a couch potato, it doesn’t fly.
The result is a collection of fans who have seen every dive, witnessed a string of great matches and are very hard to move. The exuberance that once characterized the AEW was gone—only Orange Cassidy and Chris Jericho’s walkout music truly penetrated the malaise that settled over Duval County on this cold March night.
Making things worse were several groups of listless 30-year-old men with stringy beards and pot bellies, performatively booing and there seemingly only to disrupt and criticize. Suffice to say, as great as it was to be around people, to feel the buzz of a live crowd, it’s very hard to maintain your positive energy when there are others bound and determined not to take the same journey into suspended disbelief you are.
Notes:
—Maki Itoh got a good reception from the audience and delivered a wonderful performance, quirky, wacky and fun. A great addition to the roster if they manage to hold onto her for an extended period.
—Dr. Britt Baker and Jungle Boy are the two most improved performers in-ring in all of AEW. Dr. Baker discovered a character that worked some time ago, quickly becoming a class promo and providing the kind of consistent levity the show desperately needs to break up the workrate matches that otherwise define it.
In the months since, however, she’s grown immeasurably in the ring as well. She’s put on muscle mass and uses every ounce of it in the ring, snug and stiff where needed and believable in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible a year ago. A true revelation.
Jungle Boy, likewise, has absorbed ring knowledge at an astounding rate, seemingly choosing all the right role models. Had he gone in the direction of the West Coasters in the promotion, all razzle dazzle highspots and cooperative silliness, he would be stuck in the large group of performers stuck in the Young Bucks shadow, doing the same act, only less proficiently.
Instead, he’s taken his new age meta-gimmick and melded it together with an almost old school ring style. His timing has improved to the point its truly world class and he understands that, because of his slight frame, he needs to deliver everything with an extra oomph to be credible against bigger guys.
He’s ready for big things in the ring. Now it’s time to find a personality beyond the gimmick to truly push his career beyond the middle of the card and into the stratosphere.
—Matt Hardy had his best performance since joining the company, a wonderful match with Adam Page that allowed him to stay firmly in his wheelhouse.
Page, unlike most of the promotion’s other top acts, doesn’t do a ton of intricate, timing-based spots. He’s a straight ahead pro wrestler of the old school—the perfect style for Hardy to work without ever being a step or three off the beat.
—The cinematic match featured the best action we’ve seen yet from this developing genre. It was beautifully shot, with a ton of tracking shots where the camera crew cleverly followed the wrestlers through a maze of violence and plunder.
In the arena, we were treated to the match on a big screen while they set up the barbed wire around the ring. It was great this way, with the music and sound effects and no commentary. Watching it back later on television, I found the live commentary strange. It didn’t fit the atmosphere and mood and was unnecessary. It was an extended movie fight scene that didn’t require much in the way of explanation.
—Overall, this was another win. When the world gets back to normal, I highly recommend taking in an AEW show if they come to your area. If you allow yourself to get lost in the fun, I guarantee it will be a couple of hours well spent.