Hiroshi Tanahashi changed the way I watched wrestling | Column
Hiroshi Tanahashi’s last match on Sunday hit me far harder than any other recent retirement.
I’ve re-written this article several times trying to figure out why. I was definitely sad when Jushin Thunder Liger retired a few years ago, and John Cena’s retirement last month felt big. But I think Tanahashi’s retirement on Sunday had a far bigger impact on me than anyone else because he was the one that made me realize that what pro wrestling is, and should be can’t be defined by just one promotion.
I first started watching professional wrestling in 1999, with my first show being that year’s SummerSlam. I don’t know what motivated me to keep watching, but I was 12 so I guess The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin swearing and saying funny things in their segments grabbed me. I continued to watch through 2001 when WCW and ECW closed and WWE pretty much became the only promotion in town, save for the always struggling TNA.
Something I didn’t realize back then was when WWE became a virtual monopoly, it taught a generation of people that pro wrestling could be done only one way because everything else had been snuffed out. ‘WWE style’ became a thing, and while their way of wrestling can be very good at times, it could also be terribly boring. Vince McMahon had one way of presenting wrestling, and it was either his way or the highway. Yes, there was TNA, but often times they were either incohertent in the ways they were telling stories or just tried to copy WWE, often poorly.
So by 2012, bored with what was going on with wrestling in the United States, I yearned for something new. By that time, internet streaming finally reached the point where shows could be seen in full live and in decent quality. NJPW was among the first to experiment with this, and I vividly remember my first show: Wrestle Kingdom 7.
I had seen Hiroshi Tanahashi several times in TNA, but here he was headlining against Minrou Suzuki in the main event, and I was amazed by what I saw. He was uniquely charismatic, someone that the fans obviously loved. There were no shades of grey here: Tanahashi was a full-blown babyface at a time where those were, and still are, rare. I quickly became a fan of NJPW simply because the quality of wrestling was miles better than what was being offered in the United States at the time.
What cemented it for me was the next big show, The New Beginning, where Kazuchika Okada defeated Tanahashi to win the IWGP Championship. I was stunned. They were going to go with an unproven wrestler like Okada, who not only went nowhere in his TNA excursion but pretty much bombed his return match at Wrestle Kingdom? Why not keep it with the proven Tanahashi? I wanted to see how this story play out, and the rest was history.
NJPW and Hiroshi Tanahashi finally made me realize that wrestling doesn’t have to be what one company dictates. People, primarily podcasters with WWE ties, often complain that AEW and other promotions “don’t tell stories.” That couldn’t be further from the truth. WWE has a style of storytelling that works, but watching NJPW taught me that stories in professional wrestling can be told in different ways. With his rivalries against top stars like Shinsuke Nakamura, Katsuyori Shibata, Kenny Omega, and Kazuchika Okada, Tanahashi taught me that the actual wrestling can be the focal point of a story.
Watching Tanahashi’s retirement ceremony on Sunday felt like the end of an era, much more so than John Cena’s retirement. After all, the WWE machine will continue without him as they have an established roster that will carry the company for years to come. Tanahashi, meanwhile, represents the final domino of NJPW’s golden era falling. Everyone else has either moved on to other companies or has retired, and strong questions remain regarding who and what will carry the promotion forward.
Still, I can’t thank Tanahashi enough for what he has done for me as a wrestling fan. He helped me open my eyes to a world I never experienced until 2012. Seeing him vanish into the smoke-filled stage after a literal parade around the Tokyo Dome hurt, but you know the saying: don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.
Bryan Rose is an editor from California that has been covering professional wrestling for well over a decade. He officially joined F4WOnline as an editor in 2017.