Mirror images & tiny scars: change in professional wrestlers

Here’s a question I’ve been thinking about for a while: should a wrestling match change a wrestler, in kayfabe?

The most simple answer is also the most demanding: yes, of course it should. A wrestler as a character is nothing if not this patchwork of history, a long line of small changes, each trainer and feud and audience molding them into the shape that you see them in today. Even if every change hasn’t been intended or carefully crafted, planned out in advance, the change definitely happens, whether it’s adopting a new move or a gesture, finding some way to finally catch the attention of the audience, win them over or make them angry. This process is the glue that ties together the career of a wrestler, whether it’s in the same local venues year after year, or whether it starts in bingo halls and ends in stadiums.

On the other hand, wrestlers can also be seen as characters whose entire purpose is to stay the same. Feuds come and go, promotions rise and fall, and even audiences don’t stay the same. A wrestler has to rely on their character not changing dramatically in order to be recognized from one town to the next. What works ultimately has to get repeated so that people can go home happy, knowing they’ve seen their favorite wrestlers do their favorite moves, say their favorite catch phrases. Feuds can be recycled like love stories on a soap opera — a wrestler wins over his nemesis, but the rivalry is not definitively over, it’s just on pause. This is the bread and butter of wrestling.

So perhaps the question is not so much whether a wrestler ought to change, but how they ought to be changed by a match.

My favorite storyline of recent memory is, without a doubt, the feud between Will Ospreay and Jimmy Havoc in PROGRESS. Not only is it a staggeringly long storyline, but one that has incredibly consistent character progression and changes that make, for the most part, sound logical sense. Depending on your definition, it’s roughly a five year story that continued through nearly the entire lifetime of the promotion itself. It ended earlier this year, in an incredibly satisfying conclusion. It’s a luxury to have such a lengthy story, but maybe it’s an even greater luxury to have it end in a way that feels decisive and intended; no abrupt stop-starts, hiccups or fade-to-blacks.

The tale begins and ends with Havoc, and his journey within PROGRESS. The promotion itself acts as a third character in the tale; what PROGRESS represents to the wrestlers, to the fans, is the background to the feud. PROGRESS started out a small, wrestling upstart, just hoping to put on their first show and have it lead to a second show. They didn’t book Jimmy Havoc, more known for his deathmatch resume than the kind of technical, strong style or high-flying wrestling PROGRESS were hoping to present. But Havoc’s popularity among fans preceded him — there was a social media campaign and a series of videos where Havoc tried to get himself booked for this brand new but already hot promotion.

The campaign was a success, and Havoc appeared on a PROGRESS show, attempting to show he is more than just a deathmatch guy — he’s a wrestler who can do the technical style, having come up alongside best friend Zack Sabre Jr, best known for utilizing such wrestling today. The match was set up against his trainer Danny Garnell — the stipulation? No blood. Most fans could see what happens a mile away. There was blood, the match stipulation got altered into no holds barred. Jimmy was back in his element, the very element he was trying so hard to get away from. Yet, he didn’t succeed. His first match in the promotion, that he was really hoping to impress in, was a loss.

The pattern repeated itself: loss after loss in PROGRESS, Jimmy was the crowd favorite, our guy, yet he never got there. The fans kept cheering him on — maybe, this time. 2012 turns into 2013, but the story stayed the same. Special referee Nigel McGuinness, an avid proponent of banning bleeding in wrestling, told Jimmy he doesn’t need to do deathmatches; he was better than this. Chapter 8, another bloody altercation against James Davis, another loss — but this one, more than any match prior, it felt like maybe the fans shouldn’t have egged Jimmy on so much. He kicked the violence up a notch, asked the crowd if they were okay with taking it to another level, and they cheered. Of course they did — they loved Jimmy. He was their guy. But this action lead to another devastating loss, but the fans hadn’t lost hope. Maybe next time.

Havoc was sidelined with an injury at Chapter 9, but sat chummily in front row on a pink chair, beer in hand. At intermission, he helped out with the raffle. When the heel tag team the London Riots launched an attack on anybody they could find after a tag team match, and cornered announcer Jim Smallman, Havoc went into the ring to make a save. Smallman was incensed, telling the Riots these kinds of attacks are not appreciated by the PROGRESS management or fans. He singled out Havoc as a guy who both the fans and the promotion itself want here. Havoc took his pink folding chair, and began his attack on Smallman. Nobody in the crowd knew what to think at first, such was the shock. This was our Jimmy, the perennial loser, the guy they cheered on with such passion. Eventually, shock made way for pure, visceral anger. “Fuck you, Jimmy,” chants rang loudly. Empty beer cups littered the ring as Havoc took the microphone and denounced PROGRESS, both fans and the promotion, as meaning nothing to him. They’d made a promise to him, to make sure he could show the world he was not than a deathmatch wrestler, but what had come of it? A string of deathmatches.

What happened at the next show capitalized on the heel turn in such magnificent fashion, it’s almost magical. The first ever winner of their new talent tournament, the National Progression Series, Mark Andrews defeated the current champion Rampage Brown in a hot match, with the crowd firmly behind him, only to have his victory spoiled by Havoc running in with London Riots in tow, and issuing a brutal beatdown of both the new champion and his tag team partner Eddie Dennis. Havoc pointed out a clause in his contract that gives him any match in PROGRESS at the time of his choosing. Andrews laid out in front of him, he now wanted a championship match. Smallman refused. Havoc continued punishing Andrews with chairshots, even going so far as to lay out the referee with some. Finally Smallman was forced to relent, and had to count the pin himself. Havoc had got himself to the top of PROGRESS by turning against everything the promotion stood for, and by abandoning the fans who had campaigned to get him there.

Another development also took place on this show. Andrews, having won the tournament, had an opportunity to name a person from the tournament’s contestants who would be allowed a spot in the next National Progression Series. He named the young high-flyer William Ospreay, whose tag team partner Paul Robinson Andrews had defeated in the final. The crowd cheered this decision. They had only seen a glimpse of Ospreay, but they already liked the look of him.

Havoc’s reign in PROGRESS came to define the promotion. As much as the crowd had loved him, they now hated him with similar passion. He won every championship match, typically unfairly. His stable, fittingly named Regression, took on a member in Paul Robinson, who turned on Will Ospreay in a brilliant angle. Ospreay, for his part, did everything to get revenge on his friend, but also the man who had made him turn in the first place, Havoc.

I don’t want to get bogged down in the chapter-to-chapter details of the journey Ospreay took, but as I watched the angle unfold his progression as a wrestler was so evident. This young talent always had a lot of flash but slowly developed into a character who could channel all the antipathies the crowd had for Havoc into a hope for a new champion. He was young, he was talented, and he just wanted to win to end this reign of terror. He may not have been the chosen one in the beginning of the storyline, but as he got shots at the title where Havoc always managed to win thanks to dubious means, it became evident that Ospreay should be the guy to beat him. The feud gained personal layers. Havoc took his threats up a notch. Havoc was always a sick guy, but he took glee in describing how he would defeat Ospreay once again — how he might torture him once more. Ospreay, having injured himself during a 630 splash, had to not only find a way to beat Havoc at his own game but also overcome his insecurity about doing the move that injured him months back.

Match to match, this feud changed each man — as Ospreay grew more frustrated, Havoc grew more maniacal and confident. When they clashed at Chapter 20, the outcome may have been clear as day, but it was no less satisfying. Will Ospreay, no longer a kid but a young man, defeated Jimmy Havoc. He was now the conqueror of evil — the hero of the people, the restorer of justice in the world of PROGRESS.

Havoc himself wrapped up the storyline with an absolutely amazing deathmatch against stablemate Paul Robinson. In the aftermath, a bloody mess of a man, Havoc grabbed the hand of Jim Smallman to pull him up and walk to the back. It was cathartic and symbolic — was this the beginning of the Jimmy the fans used to love so much, before his reign of terror?

The story of Will Ospreay had only just begun. He showed himself to be a capable champion, defending against Robinson, and then Mark Haskins and later Zack Gibson and Flash Morgan Webster in a great triple threat main event. His biggest challenge came in the form of The Villain. The odds were against him, and Marty Scurll emerged as new champion.

Ospreay at this point was quite busy with his other work, most notably his new deal with New Japan Pro Wrestling, but that did not stop him from appearing in various events for PROGRESS throughout 2016. A pattern quickly emerged. Ospreay did his damnest in the match, wowing crowds and trying to get back into the title picture, but he always fell short. Somebody was always more hungry than him, or just better. In the match he had with Mark Haskins for the #1 contendership, Haskins was desperate for the opportunity, while Ospreay was still keen to show off, confident that he could win in the end, having defeated Haskins the year previous. Slowly, the realization dawned on Ospreay — he was no longer the world conqueror. He was beginning to be just a guy. This frustrated him, and in a match against friend Shane Strickland, the mask slipped. Ospreay faked an injury and then took advantage of the distraction. The crowd let their feelings be known with a rain of boos. Strickland gained his composure and fought back, defeating Ospreay decisively by the end. Ospreay apologized to his friend and the fans. He’d allowed his frustrations to cloud his judgments. He wants to win, but he also wants to do it the right way.

Havoc had been away for a while, due to story reasons at first but later simply due to a bad knee injury. He returned a hero, and began a feud against Scurll. At PROGRESS first ever “no card announced beforehand” show, Unboxing Live, a surprising match was made — Havoc versus Ospreay. Once more.

The match would have made my top ten of the year easily, had I not seen it later in January 2017. It’s simply an amazing story between two men who have not only history, but a long history between them. The fact that Ospreay turns into a heel during the match is not what makes it special; it’s the fact that he turns against Havoc, who is back in his original role, as PROGRESS mascot babyface — alternative and distinct. The feud that follows is also drenched in symbols of their past feud. Havoc provided the template for Ospreay, both in how he turned and how he continued to be a heel.

Like Havoc before him, Ospreay had become frustrated thanks to loss after loss, ultimately betraying not only the fans who believed in him, the promotion who believed in him, but also his old self. But it made perfect sense, how could it not? This young man had been through wars against Havoc, who had cut vicious promos filled with sadistic glee. Havoc hadn’t been just a heel who happened to be champion. Havoc had been a tormentor, and now his former victim was ready to torment him. Everything Ospreay knew about being a thorn on somebody’s side, Havoc had taught him.

I remember being so in awe of this simple, but great little twist on a heel turn. Ospreay doesn’t just turn heel because reasons, or to freshen up his character, or even to provide a last hurrah for him before he goes, even though the turn accomplishes all of those things. He turns heel precisely because of his history with Havoc, and he molds himself in the image of Havoc. He’s a sadistic heel, because Jimmy was a sadistic heel towards him. He torments Jimmy, because Jimmy tormented him.

The blowoff came some four months later, a “Fans Bring the Weapons” match (which couldn’t have been more appropriate) that Ospreay turned into a Loser Leaves Promotion match half-way through. This was another pitch-perfect story-filled match, where the stakes became so loaded every moment had me hooked as a viewer. The story ends with Ospreay walking away from PROGRESS, one of the key promotions in his young career, and it’s bittersweet but it’s the right ending, the fitting ending. Havoc fought so hard to be here, from the first campaign just to get booked, to the last match against Ospreay. Havoc, the promotion’s mascot once more, gets to stay.

The mirror image, from heel turn to face to heel turn, in this feud is so rare I completely lose myself in talking about it. They essentially told a fantastic story, then decided to continue it, and somehow, they found an even better story — a story of how a character changes, gets molded by a feud. It makes sense because Ospreay is so young when he starts in PROGRESS, whereas Havoc is older and more established. Havoc knows who he is, love him or hate him. He knows and understands what he is capable of. Ospreay is still finding his footing in wrestling, he’s still learning, and then the feud with Havoc happens. Of course he gets shaped by it, so much so that the trauma stays with him even after he defeats Havoc and moves on.

Ospreay is still young, five years after his first match in PROGRESS, but I can see in his recent work how he’s changing his character according to environment and story progression. In New Japan Pro Wrestling he has been re-fashioned into Kazuchika Okada’s young English protege, so he attempts to copy Okada’s moves, though with less success (after all, he is still just the student). In February 2017, he got a big opportunity against Katsuyori Shibata who held the RevPro British Heavyweight Championship at the time, and even in loss, the experience shaped him so much he adopted Shibata’s corner dropkick in tribute to the man. In his match series against KUSHIDA, Ospreay was dumb and unprepared at first, then slowly he became smarter and more prepared for KUSHIDA’s offence. He began having answers for KUSHIDA’s attacks, he was smarter now, but it took just that extra bit of tenacity to actually win, and so it was only in their 5th match that he could finally put the Junior Heavyweight Champion away and capture that title.

He consistently puts these kinds of small, intelligent touches into his matches, and it’s honestly so satisfying to watch. His current work is different from his work in PROGRESS, because the environment is different. PROGRESS is about dramatic post-match angles, chapter-to-chapter storytelling and characters who feel real but can also be over-the-top (Havoc playing with blood splatter comes to mind). In this environment, Ospreay’s character changes are bigger, but not lacking in sublety. In New Japan, in-ring is everything, so every character progression is communicated between the ropes. Ospreay gets that, and has adapted his way of adapting and changing his character accordingly.

How should a wrestler be changed by a match? My answer would be simply: as they see themselves see fit. Pro wrestling is built on intangibles. You can measure fan reactions by decibels but only the wrestler can know what it feels like to manipulate the reaction to a desired effect, and they themselves can easily judge whether a move, a gesture, or a catch phrase is going to work in the long run or ready to scrapped immediately. Innovation is important, but the change also needs to make sense for the fans. Not every match is steeped in importance and stakes, just like not every feud needs to dramatically alter a character.

Context is everything, too. If a promotion does big characters, over-the-top angles and thrives on the soap qualities of wrestling, then the changes a character goes through ought to reflect that style. If the promotion is more keen on being grounded in reality, then the changes ought to be more subtle.

Whether big or small, I think changes are important because wrestling fans are desperate to get invested in something. Things in a vacuum can still be good, a good match or a talented performer can wow you even if you’ve never seen them before or will never see them again, but the difference to seeing something play out over time is infinitely more satisfying. It takes a little thought and often a lot of co-operation between wrestlers and the promotion they are working with, but when these things click into place, you can create some magical things.

And if you still think Will Ospreay has no grasp of psychology, you’re lost.