Tag-team wrestling too often gets the short shrift in the industry. WWE dismissively treats teams as nothing more than stepping stones to a singles push, while New Japan Pro Wrestling sees tags as a great way to build feuds for established stars, preserving the “important” singles matches for big events. And when teams are left alone to let their freak flags fly, the matches often toss out psychology in favor of car-crash spectacle, bodies colliding in sugar-rush ecstasy that rarely lasts past the finish. Of course, this ignores the fact that, when done well and properly, tag-team wrestling is arguably the pinnacle of the artform, with added suspense, heartbreak and triumph built into its group dynamic.
Part of the draw, then, of the reunion of the Golden Lovers wasn’t merely the resolution of a decade-long arc between Kenny Omega and Kota Ibushi but also the promise of two of wrestling’s peak innovators updating their old sizzle with new experience. Omega in particular was open about his desire to elevate New Japan’s, and by extension the industry’s, tag scene, and his lucid understanding of how teams can mix group and individual attitudes and goals. He and Ibushi already had a grand time back in the ring against Omega’s new nemesis, Cody, but the first true test of Omega’s ambitions came in the form of a match against his erstwhile enforcers and jilted pals, the Young Bucks.
From the start, it’s obvious that these conflicts are affecting the men. Ibushi makes his way to the ring like it’s any other fight, glad-handing the audience and looking excited; Omega, meanwhile, walks a bit slowly, smiling half-heartedly at fans as his attention is focused on Matt and Nick Jackson in the ring, his reluctance to fight them plain on his face. And though the Bucks are united in their resentment of Omega setting them aside in favor of Ibushi, it’s equally obvious that Matt and Nick differ in the level of their anger. Nick is at least willing to treat this as a display of skills, a contest to determine the better team. Matt, though, wants revenge. From the opening bell, in which he and Ibushi are the first legal wrestlers, Matt strolls right past his opponent without a glance so that he can demand Kenny come fight him.
The New Japan main event style is as enthralling as it is rigid; no matter what the story is going into a show-closing match, it will feature a slow, feeling-out segment at the beginning, a period of targeted offense with a clear dominant worker, then an explosive closing stretch in which finishers and near-falls are traded with abandon, no matter how worn down the fighters looked even a few minutes earlier. This match follows that format, but the two teams use their external and internal conflicts to add narrative heft to the structure. Omega’s reluctance to bring the fight to the Jacksons helps to slow the action throughout early passages, resetting just as Ibushi’s spectacular moves threaten to kick the proceedings into the next gear. When Kota opens up a potential escalation of heat by laying in some nasty kicks on Matt’s injured back, Omega actually runs in and pulls his partner off their opponent out of concern for Matt, who responds to this condescending show of pity by striking Omega. Left sitting against the ropes, Omega is wide-eyed with shock and hurt, protesting that he was only trying to help.
Omega’s hesitation throws off the Lovers’ pacing, making even legitimate botches look like part of the overall narrative of the match. Meanwhile, the Bucks are their usual, synchronized selves, chaining together elaborate moves on Ibushi while saving their nastiest offense for Omega, such as a perfectly timed spot in which Kenny goes for a Terminator dive on Matt, only to be cut off by Nick superkicking him hard from the apron. Omega sits out for extended periods after every major attack he endures, less to sell injury than him recognizing a chance to minimize how much time he has to spend fighting his friends.
Omega’s in-ring acting has long been a topic of debate over his over-the-top, anime-esque facial expressions, though detractors tend to overlook how he has always balanced out his operatic gestures with more naturalistic body language. Omega’s mercurial blend has rarely been as evident as it is here, selling the small and overwhelming moments of anguish that he feels in attacking loved ones. Gradually, he succumbs to outright despair; at one point, Omega cuts off Matt with a vicious backbreaker that makes the man scream in agony, causing Omega to look down on Matt still draped over his knee with a look of utter despondency. More than once, Omega visibly has tears in his eyes over the pain he inflicts on Matt and Nick, and his wild expressions of grief are hammered home with smaller slumps of shame. From a wrestling standpoint, this is the least active Kenny has been in a main event in years, yet this should go down as one of his all-time best performances.
Matt is the reverse of Kenny. Where Omega keeps retreating from the fight, Matt is lost to his rage. From that moment at the start where he walks past Ibushi without sparing a second glance to demand Kenny enter the ring, Matt has already forgotten about his stated objective of proving who is the best tag team. He merely wants revenge, and numerous turning points of the match hinge on him going to the top turnbuckle and freezing as to whether attack Ibushi in the ring to possibly win or to leap onto Kenny at ringside just to inflict damage. The first two times, Matt’s hesitation costs him dearly, but the third sees him go up for the Bucks’ More Bang For Your Buck moonsault, only to pivot and send Kenny through a table with a sick diving elbow. Throughout, Matt eggs Kenny to hit him, urging him to sack up and see this through.
The shredded bonds between Kenny and Matt drive the match, but not to be outdone is the supporting work from Ibushi and Nick. Though Nick also fumes at Kenny for seemingly turning his back on the Bucks, he, like Ibushi, approaches this initially as a normal match. At first, Nick plays the whirling dervish that the Bucks are celebrated and reviled for being, nailing mesmerizing combos in which he seems to be in three places at once. Yet as Matt becomes more and more hobbled by the Lovers’ offense and his own dangerous moves, Nick gets increasingly incensed, and he starts working offense less to impress than to truly hurt his opponents. Ibushi, meanwhile, carries the load for his reluctant partner, working so smoothly that he even manages to save botches, as when he recovers deftly from his missed Cross Slash or saves his, Kenny’s and Matt’s lives from a wobbly superplex at the last second by moving his foot and shift all their weight back toward the ring. Ibushi has to encourage Omega from the start, confused as to why his partner is holding back.
All of these pieces tie into one of the best finishing sequences of recent memory. Omega, fired up into landing multiple V-triggers on Matt, hauls him up and points a finger gun at him to telegraph yet one more running knee, but as he does so, Omega freezes, his hand visibly shaking before he walks away. Ibushi, fed up with the toll this is taking on everyone, runs up and grabs Omega’s hand and forces it back into the finger gun, a pantomime that makes clear what he is saying without words: “end this.” Omega does so and lifts up Matt for his One-Winged Angel but again cannot bring himself to brutalize his friend further. This time, it’s Matt himself who grabs Omega’s hand and pulls it back up to his own head, screaming “Do it!” at Kenny until he is brought crashing down.
A singles match would have ended here. Hell, any logical match would have ended here. But this match has gone past logic and into the realm of mass despair, and before Red Shoes can count the pin, Nick dives in to save his brother, operating on pure instinct. This does nothing but prolong the inevitable, as Nick tries to rally Matt but can only cradle his limp, devastated brother. Nick yells “What’s your problem” at Kenny, but the anger in his voice doesn’t match the look of sadness on his face, a look that silently asks how it all came to this as Kenny looks on in equal sorrow. Nick shouts that this isn’t over, yet in saying it aloud he seems to recognize the full implications of this, and as he considers his shattered, half-dead brother and the fact that saving Matt has only prolonged his pain, Nick’s shouts turn into a wordless scream of rage and heartbreak, almost a wail. Nick barely puts up a fight as the Lovers dump him for the ring, then the team hits their Golden Trigger finisher on Matt. Kenny, the legal man, covers, and Kota piles on Kenny, perhaps as much to make sure that his partner doesn’t lose his nerve as much as to keep Matt down for good. The referee makes the three count, all the while as Kenny shakes with sobs.
Many of the most emotional moments in wrestling history come from tag matches: the Revival holding each other’s hands to stop from tapping as DIY wrenches them in center-ring, Kenta Kobashi crawling on top of partner Misawa to absorb the kicks of Kawada and Taue. But there may never have been a wrestling match that did not end in serious injury or death that concludes as sadly as this one. Ibushi looks drained and bewildered as Red Shoes raises his hand, while Omega can only just manage to stop crying as he lifts his hand in dispassionate victory. Omega is completely lost in his sadness, awkwardly stumbling between Ibushi and Matt with his ice bag, offering it to each. At last, he poses with Ibushi and cracks a smile, but it’s painted-on and mirthless, his face still wet with sweat and tears as he runs on autopilot celebration.
Somehow, there’s more. Cody runs in and angrily castigates the Bucks for their failure, prompting a run-in from the Lovers to clear the ring. It brings the conflict between Kenny and the Bucks full-circle; this all started because Matt finally snapped after spending years being the one to save Kenny’s ass over and over without any reciprocal gratitude, and at long last Kenny saves him. This moves Nick, who hugs Omega in a gesture of forgiveness, but for Matt it’s just too late and too ill-timed. Having just lost to Kenny, having been saved from the wrath of his new boss whom Matt helped install, it’s too much to bear. He doesn’t slap Kenny’s hand away or attack his friend; he just silently slips out of the ring and heads backstage, causing Nick to glumly follow him.
It’s the final devastation of the match, a moment that causes Kenny and Nick to sink with heartbreak, and even Ibushi to walk away uneasily, aware that this fight is going to linger well after the final bell, and that it’s going to completely consume his best friend. It caps off one of the greatest, most moving matches in history, and the fact that it is transparently just the first in a series would be thrilling if this prospect of this cutting even deeper weren’t so terrifying.