Yukio Sakaguchi vs. Yusuke Okada - DDT 05/09/2021
why does DDT, a comedy promotion, perform in front of silence
This is the only way to do empty arena wrestling.
I fucking hate it right now. Japanese professional wrestling is one of the best parts of my life and this godforsaken pandemic continues to get in the way. I know that’s self-indulgent and self-pitying, but man, I’m fully vaccinated and can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Enter DDT, who continues to make the baffling decision where their wrestling takes place not just in front of no fans, but of nobody at all. Unlike AJPW, which has largely sidestepped the worst parts of empty arena wrestling by requiring that their staff and preliminary wrestlers (shoutout Dan Tamura) scream their hearts out during every single match, DDT talent wrestles in front of dead silence.
That silence was cruel in the two Ultimate Tag League matches on this show. Antonio Honda’s schtick completely failed to land, creating a mockery of the legendary Jun Akiyama, and the 30-minute draw main event was dreadfully boring for the first twelve minutes or so.
Thank god, then, that Yukio Sakaguchi is on this roster.
The simple story of his matchup with sky’s-the-limit Akiyama disciple Yusuke Okada was that Sakaguchi was dominant when doing MMA things, and Okada would make his comeback by doing professional wrestling things. That’s it. Professional wrestling doesn’t have to be hard.
Great matchups between good wrestlers manifest when they either patch up each other’s weaknesses or multiply each other’s strengths. The latter happened here with Sakaguchi and Okada. Sakaguchi is best when he’s portrayed as a ruthless killer blending the lines between what’s real and what’s fake, and what allows Okada to stand out is the sheer urgency of every movement he makes. Multiply those together and you get a dominant performance from Sakaguchi with exhilarating moments of reprieve for an overmatched Okada.
Those little quirks create wonderful unpredictability in wrestling. Both of these men put forth highly competitive challenges towards Yuki Ueno’s Universal Championship earlier this year – they may as well be equals in standing upon the card. But when accounting for a concept like matchup (a missed opportunity in most bookers’ pens) it’s not out of the question that an experienced shooter like Sakaguchi would beat someone like Okada, all potential with little to show for it, down to size.
Sakaguchi kicked and forearmed the guff out of young Okada. Even when Okada would scrounge together these bursts of energy, it never seemed like the tattooed veteran was out of control. Okada’s brief moments of offense all came about due to desperation, like a relentless series of headbutts or a suplex leading to a double down. He could gain the upper hand momentarily, but was too inexperienced to ever capitalize – exactly how somebody with Okada’s experience, talent, and skillset should wrestle.
This match was stiff and fast-paced and violent and urgent, and it’s all I could ask for with no crowd. Five minutes of heaven.
(***¾)