Masters of Psychology: "The Shogun" Hiro Matsuda-Johnny Weaver incident (1987)

"Let him loose!"

The Shogun

Every time a wrestler either steps in the ring, greets a fan, or barks out an interview, he/she has one job, and one job only; to sell the next match. There is no other reason to be in the business of professional wrestling, period.

The following clIp, from 1987, features "The Shogun" Hiro Matsuda demonstrating his version of the "Weaver Lock," made famous by Johnny Weaver, and serves as our example.

Context and Background

Wrestling promoters had been marketing Japanese wrestlers as sneaky rulebreakers from WWII on; they were masters of lethal holds designed to permanently cripple opponents -- they were stone faced killing machines, and in many ways, superior athletes.

By 1987, Hiro Matsuda had been around for quite some time, and promoters were looking for ways to get the most out of the cagey vet. He was a huge star in Japan, and a feared trainer (rumor has it he introduced Hulk Hogan to the business by purposely snapping his leg). Needing to sell more tickets for an upcoming match between Dusty Rhoades and Matsuda (Greensboro Coliseum October 25, 1987), J.J. Dillon conceived an ingenious plan that took just over 4 minutes to hatch, which includes the time it took for Matsuda to enter the ring.

Ring-Psychology In Action

The psychology was simple: "The Shogun" demonstrates his version of the "Weaver Lock" on a Senior Referee, so he, in turn, can inform the other referees how the mysterious hold works. By allowing this demonstration, with proper warning, Dillon essentially washed his hands of legal responsibilities should Matsuda's hold inflict grave injuries on an opponent. The ref agrees and is summarily put out. The move nearly kills the guy. 

In the meantime, Johnny Weaver rushes to the ring and resuscitates the downed ref with a few neck chops. Dillon yells, "I told you so!" Matsuda then sneaks up behind a distracted Weaver and hits him in the solar plexus. The blow leaves Weaver stunned, long enough for Matsuda to apply the lock -- with exceptional force. 

Matsuda grins, his grip tightens, Weaver's mouth fills with blood, his eyes roll and his face goes pale, Weaver is out! Dusty Rhoades and a cast of "good guys" rush to the ring and Matsuda breaks the hold before permanently damaging the poor guy.

Evidently startled, Jim Crockett Jr. immediately announces, "Dusty Rhoades will take on 'The Shogun' Hiro Matsuda October 25 at the Greensboro Coliseum..." 

Hmmm...

The fix was on, and wrestling fans flocked to the box office for yet another USA versus the world scenario; Crockett's psychology worked; for the event sold out within hours of its national airing on TBS. Brilliant!

They just don't do it like this anymore, kids...

Enjoy this clip of "The Shogun" Hiro Matsuda taking out Johnny Weaver with a deadly sleeper hold.   

Masters of Psychology: Johnny Valentine v. The Crusher (1960s)

Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Masters of Psychology is a new commentary and desiderium dedicated to professional wrestling's masters of ring psychology. These ring physicians, whose precision derived more from infidelity than calculation, truly understood the ignorance imbued for appearing in the ring other than to sell the next match and the dithyrambs which ensured its raptness. Enjoy...      

"We want Crusher!"

When it comes to captivating an audience, Seattle's Johnny Valentine was among the best. Especially when he tangled with "the greatest rassler' to ever step in the ring here in Chicago or any place," The Crusher. As my friend and former writer for the Wrestling Observer, Dick Deluxe, proclaimed, "never the more has a single video been so perfect for a Ph. D. candidate to write their dissertation on." And I cannot disagree with the man. It is ten minutes of, well, nothing and everything. It is the epitome of dialogism under the thundering unison of "We want Crusher! We want Crusher!" Ten minutes of fans screaming for the Crusher's head on a stick. Ten minutes of Johnny Valentine stomping around the ring, his subtle body language keeping the fans from jumping the rail. "Let me handle the bum!" he implies with a few fist pumps. A wrestler by the name of "Badboy" Joe from Minnesota is introduced as The Crusher's replacement and is swiftly disposed of in a mere twenty seconds with five arm drags and a "skull buster." All the while Valentine keeps his eyes fixated on the gorilla position anticipating The Crusher's return to ringside. The Crusher returns and all hell nearly breaks loose. The ensuing interview, which is nearly drowned-out by the crowd, becomes one of wrestling's all time classics.

Valentine and The Crusher managed to stretch a couple of weak kicks into ten minutes of pandemonium and months worth of sellouts. Neither man did a damn thing to each other and assuredly left the venue that evening relatively unscathed and a few bucks richer. This is American professional wrestling at its finest. Enjoy the video of Johnny Valentine v. The Crusher and feel free to share your observations in the comments section below.      

Pro Wrestling's first super-villains: Asian-American roles in TV wrestling's infancy

Kinji Shibuya

The juxtaposition is concise yet complex enough to serve as the archetype: the monolithic swagger of world heavyweight champion Bobby Maganoff; a working-class tough from the Windy City chiseled from the choicest granite defending his world title against a ruthless foreigner, The Great Togo. This is not an atypical bout over mat superiority or fair play; it's a full blown socio-political street fight viciously fought in front of 15,000 screaming fans: an American champion who literally bleeds working-class values taking on a sneaky, rule-breaking savage from the Pacific. Yes folks, America's fears were defeated safely in the controlled confines of a stiff wrestling ring that night. The success was such that Maganoff v. Togo for the NWA world title would happen 11 more times over the next 7 years.

Conceived by wrestling promoters in the immediate post-WWII era, Maganoff v. Togo serves as the chief model for professional wrestling's high drama throughout North America in the mid-20th century. Although war in the Pacific had officially ended on September 2, 1945 with the Japanese Instrument of Surrender, the perception of Imperial Japanese warriors invading Allied wrestling rings continued well into the 1960's. Asian wrestlers not only helped popularize professional wrestling during this period, they became the industry's first super villians!

A dichotomy existed in Japan during this time; though advertised as brutish and clumsy, wrestlers from European backgrounds were cast against wizened - highly disciplined - judo masters and sumo elites. When Japanese-American wrestlers like Kinji Shibuya and The Great Togo went to work in Japan, they checked their US passports and unflattering personalities at the door. Under the auspices of promoter/wrestler, Rikidozan - one of the business's most respected ring generals, Asian-American wrestlers were cast as pure athletes, highly disciplined, intelligent wrestling machines. The Destroyer, a barrel-chested masked European-American grappler, and one of the most popular stars of Japan Pro Wrestling (JPW) in the '60's and New Japan Pro (NJPW) in the '70's, said of Rikidozan, "He wanted wrestling - and his wrestlers - to be tough like he was." American wrestling became spectacle, but in Japan, it was wrestling.California and its large Asian-American population played exception to the rule; Shibuya explained, "[it] was the only other place outside of Honolulu where a Japanese wrestler could be himself, a babyface... it started with Rikidozan, then Toyonobori and these guys got amazing reactions... I was sometimes jealous that they didn't have to play the WWII sneaky Japanese heel."       

Writing about pro wrestling is my unique way of writing about the American experience; by presenting some of pro wrestling's unsung heroes - specifically wrestling's first super villians - I hope to be able to give new voice to those experiences, and hopefully provide an entertaining medium in the process. More on pro wrestling's first super villains soon! Stay tuned!

The Blawyer launches History of Pro Wrestling Blog!

The Great Togo, circa. 1950

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the Blawyer's latest venture: a blog dedicated to the history of professional wrestling! Are you familiar with Bobby Managoff and Man Mountain Dean? What about Kazuo George Okamura and George Wagner? If not, you're in for a treat. If you are, well you've come to the right place anyway.

My proposition is simple: tell a broader story about America through the lens of professional wrestling. Pro wrestling serves, in many ways, as the ultimate reflection of American society. For instance, over 120,000 Japanese-Americans were imprisoned in internment camps during WWII. Their crime? Being of Japanese ancestry. One wrestler in particular, Kazuo George Okamura, a Japanese-American wrestling champion from Oregon, better known throughout professional wrestling circles as The Great Togo, became one the most feared villains of the silver screen as a result. His job was simple: scare the crap out of Leave it to Beaver America (and Canada) and put over wholesome white wrestlers. Undoubtedly he could have annihilated most of the men he faced, Togo was a superb ring technician, but he laid down for them because the wrestling business said he had to. Ethnic bad guys represented the Axis and good guys represented the allies during this period.

This blog is in its infant stage, so please be patient. Research can take an immense amount of time to complete, especially wrestling history (look for a blog in the future that addresses why pro wrestling is difficult to research). Suggestions are always welcome, and if you think a particular wrestler should be highlighted, please don't hesitate to shoot a message my way! I'm certain I can find a relevant juxtaposition...