You're Not Smarter Than Kaisei Takechi's Fans
You just have a podcast.
In addition to falling behind on this newsletter, I managed to fall behind on watching wrestling entirely. At first I simply didn’t have the time. Then I didn’t have the energy. And when I finally had the tiniest bit of both, I quickly realized that my depression—which is usually of the genre where engaging with something I enjoy can take a wee bit of the edge off for a while—had decided to give the whole feeling absolutely nothing for the stuff you used to enjoy thing a try instead.
I didn’t force it. The last thing I needed was to feel even emptier and the last thing wrestling needed was another fan/critic conflating general disillusionment with piercing new negative insights. So I left wrestling alone and wallowed in haunting art films until I was ready to dip my toe back in.
I started with a single match here and there. I felt the first bit of a spark creep back into my soul when Daisuke Sasaki did something dastardly in a random tag match.
I could easily write a whole newsletter about that, but I probably need to pace my paeans to every little thing he does that’s magic just a tad more. So I’m going to focus on the second detail that made me feel something: the response from Kaisei Takechi’s fans when Kaisei Takechi isn’t wrestling.
As I write this, I’m about to finish up DDT’s September 29 Korakuen Hall show, Dramatic Infinity 2024. It’ll be the first full show I’ve watched since my meek return. I didn’t set out to watch the whole thing. I figured I’d skip to Sasaki and Tetsuya Endo’s respective matches and maybe skim through the rest if I was feeling particularly inspired. But the loud and invested response from the sold out crowd sucked me in, and I found myself going back to the beginning to enjoy everything right along with them.
For the uninitiated, the reason for the size of the crowd was that this show featured the second appearance from full time J-pop idol and occasional pro wrestler Kaisei Takechi from THE RAMPAGE. His fans are legion and passionate and they quickly snap up every ticket that hasn’t been secured by the DDT faithful every time he wrestles in the promotion. Even if they do not know or care about wrestling. The reason for their response during the matches leading up to his showing is, I think, a little more nuanced.
Sure, they’re cheering because they’re both polite and anticipating the main event with their guy. But a lot of them look and sound like they’re actively engaged in what they’re seeing. They’re enthusiastically cheering athletic moves. They’re laughing at the comedy bits. They’re following the beats of matches and responding accordingly.
DDT deserves a lot of credit for the work they’ve put into cultivating this demo. Obviously the promotion wants these fans’ money. This is wrestling, after all. But it’s clear that they interested in more than the one off paydays they’re getting from tickets and Takechi merch. They’re hoping to cultivate new DDT fans from this population. Whether it will pay off in the long term remains to be seen, but the effort itself is impressive. Whether it’s putting together friendly guides to the basics of pro wrestling that are neither patronizing nor gatekeepy or booking cards packed with matches that are easy for someone who has never even heard of wrestling before to follow and enjoy, the promotion consistently tries to make itself a fun and welcoming place for the elusive new wrestling fan that so many other promotions claim to want so badly.
But the Takechi faithful who took this extended hand deserve to be celebrated, too. They’re the ones who showed up not just to get a glimpse of their guy, but to support his interests and try to see what he sees in this new endeavour. They’re the ones who came to wrestling with open minds and hearts, loudly expressed their appreciation throughout, and made the whole show better with their energy.
I would’t go so far as to call these fans unsung. Plenty of wrestling fans and pundits comment on their volume and enthusiasm every time Takechi appears. But a lot of that praise is backhanded at best and very much in the aww-it-thinks-it’s-people vein. Those silly girls! Isn’t their excitement so cute? Isn’t it so amusing to watch them get wrapped up in the action like they know what’s going on in our very sophisticated and rarified world!
There’s obviously an undercurrent of casual, unchecked sexism running through these responses. Passionate young women are always subject to a degree of underestimation and scorn when they love something. (And the treatment of young women fans has long been a concern of mine as both a former young woman fan and pop culture writer. My 2017 essay on Duranies is a good starting point if you want to know more about that.)
But I think cynicism plays a role in it, too. Getting swept up in the moment is for simple fans. Real ones sit back, watch for mistakes that must be reflected in their star ratings, and make snide comments on social media and podcasts.
Now I’m not about to argue that there’s no place for criticism—or even outright negativity—in wrestling. There’s plenty both in the ring and behind the scenes that is worthy of it. And I’m an old rock writer who lived through the rise and stagnation of poptimism. I believe relentless positivity is as much of a dead end for fans and critics alike as relentless negativity is. But I do think that the greater wrestling sphere is in a similar place to where music was pre-poptimism, where detachment and pessimism is automatically treated as more informed and thoughtful. And I don’t think anyone should assume that Takechi’s fans aren’t those things because they appeared to enjoy themselves at a wrestling show.
As someone who very recently couldn’t feel anything, I found them downright aspirational.