You could write a ton in a introduction section for something like this, and I’m going to do my best not to.

Of course, because it needs to be said, I’m not the first person to put together a running list like this, and I’m far from the first person to define what a 5-star match is (but more on that in a second). People are going to do this better than I will, whether that be because they’ve seen more wrestling or they provide more detail. Though, I have been good about keeping my lips sealed when it comes to how expansive my list is, which was in hopes of being ready for commiting to something more public and permanent like this, so my own opinion shouldn’t have any contradictions that you can find anywhere.

So, what’s a five star match?

The equally simple and full answer is that it’s a match I’d be comfortable calling the “greatest ever.” No, there’s no other tangibility to it than that. They don’t happen often, and that’s the while point of the full five, at least to me.

So, with that here’s the running list of five star matches, in chronological order. You may as well think of it as my running GME list as well, and like many who’ve undergone that quest for that match, I acknowledge the fact that said end goal is likely unachievable.

Written 2/01/2025

El Desperado vs. Jun Kasai

Death Match

JTO TAKA Michinoku Debut 30th Anniversary ~ TAKATaichiDespeMania

9.12.2022

It’s difficult to know where to start with this match, and it’s even more difficult to find a beginning considering this the first thing I’m proclaiming as a GME contender. I say that in part because this isn’t really about the match. Me saying that certainly opens up the possibility of setting up a unwanted precedent, or invites conversations that conversations that frankly, I’m above, but I’m going to stick by it completely. Watch the bout and the promo segment afterwards and I think you’ll agree.

Now, before I dig myself into a hole, the match itself, even devoid of context, is great. Despite combining two styles that I find myself souring on steadily—plunder-based deathmatches and the modern puro main event—this feels like something that’s gripping anyhow. All that normally mundane violence found in the typical deathmatch feels properly weighty without sacrificing the brutality of it all, really through the effort of Desperado’s selling and Kasai’s general knack for putting the hurt on someone, but weighty nonetheless.

The other of that novelty comes with the first bit of important context in the crowd. Not so much an all-time noisy or boisterous group, but a notable one just because they were permitted to make noise at all. If you’re reading this anytime near when it got published you almost certainly remember the global COVID-19 pandemic and how it directly impacted the wrestling business, but you also remember how it impacted you. Those hardships, whatever they were and however you persevered through them, is something most of us won’t forget. And what this crowd represents is a time capsule of humanity’s victory. Still required to wear protective face coverings and distanced in their seating, sure, but for this first time in three years a crowd in Japan is allowed to cheer for the heroes in the ring, and it still feels like a celebration of sorts even today.

Then, on the theme of hardships we can all understand, and looping back to this being more about something other than the match, there’s the message—lesson, if you will—of this ~40 minutes. Through the nearly 30 minute runtime of the match itself, the intentionally symbolic white gear of both men is painted blood red, and through it all, El Desperado depicts a struggle for triumph with suicidal intent. Being relentless is the path to victory is something we can all understand, but throwing one’s life away during that quest is not, and the beauty of the half an hour is that Jun Kasai is the only one that realises it. The crowd is too delighted in the violence, too absorbed with their renewed gain to do something other than clap their hands to see it. How ironic that the man with the name “crazy monkey” bestowed upon him is the only one to grasp the truth, and how emotionally crushing it is for Despy, and us, the audience, to hear him clear the picture in his post match speech. The fact of the matter is that there is life outside wrestling, our professions, and any escape from reality. We have families, friends, and a planet to take care of. Our purpose is what we deem most valuable, and to deem one match in a lifetime of thousands worth dying for is nothing short of foolish. Through his words, tears, a preserved rose, and his own flesh and blood being carried out on his shoulder, that lesson is bestowed on us all, at a time where we needed to hear it. So no matter how many times you’ve heard it, it still rings true; you only have one life.

And yeah, as hard as I tried to hold it back, I had a tear or two roll down my cheek the first time in heard it. If I catch it at the right time even now, Kasai’s words still choke me up. How funny it is that through a message about the value of life it’s something as fickle as a wrestling match that supports it. It just so happens that the way I see it, you have two men who understand their places in the match completely, you have something brimming full of symbolism and meaning—both in it’s own narrative and reality—and something that checks those little wrestling tidbits like pacing, selling, nearfalls, escalation, and intent with the proper context.

So, it gets five stars.

Review Date 2/03/2025

That’s all for now…