5-Star BOOK Reviews: Toshiaki Kawada’s Autobiography, Part III

So this chapter deals with Toshiaki Kawada’s transition from amateur wrestling to pro-wrestling, his first interactions with Giant Baba, and what’s expected of him as a trainee. Sadly it’s not the start to a superstar career; if anything it’s more akin to what his life was like as a wrestling trainee in high school, and for those that’ve read my first review of his book, you’ll know that Kawada’s schedule was absolutely unforgiving.

Anyway with that let’s take a look at how Japanese wrestling rookies were treated forty years ago…

Chapter 3: Introduction to All Japan Pro Wrestling

Kawada opens the chapter mentioning that he got offers from both Nihon University and the Self-Defense Forces Sports School on what is presumed to be the Japanese equivalent of an athletic scholarship. However, despite encouragement from recruiters and his mother, Kawada still chooses joining All Japan. He cites his main reasons as keeping his promise to his middle school teacher and the fact that attending university would mean attending class and he, as someone who could only focus on one thing at a time, would struggle with what he calls “half-hearted efforts”.

Kawada then follows Misawa to Tokyo Gymnasium, where he is briefly introduced to Giant Baba. Their first exchange is very short, leading Kawada to presume that Baba is naturally curt. Kawada continues training and bulking up and then mentions AJPW’s training dojo in Kinuta, which is also in the Setagaya district of Japan (APOD: having visited Tokyo, from my perspective this area seemed particularly ritzy, not Roppongi-level wealthy but still rather well-off with lots of big houses surrounded by high walls, peaceful streets, and some nice cars parked in driveways). Kawada introduces himself to the AJPW dojo and when he gets the grand tour of the dojo he finds the man who would define his future, Misawa, passed out next to a pool of vomit, having gone drinking with other AJPW trainees the night before and getting absolutely shit-faced in the process.

Kawada paints a picture of the dojo life, which is as punishing and bizarre as any you might’ve already seen or read elsewhere: the chores are never-ending, training is brutal, trainees arrive and then either try to escape or run away (APOD: Jabroniville mentioned some of these in Bull Nakano’s interviews with her joshi colleagues and Kawada’s experiences confirm that the same level of rigidity and physical demand applied to the men). Then Kawada describes how AJPW wrestlers train each and every day, rain or shine, regardless of how much water leaks through the aging ceiling in the dojo building:

“After warm-up and stretching exercises, push-ups. Then, suddenly, we moved on to taking falls. Since everyone takes falls every day, the center of the ring was worn down to almost just wood. Everyone was taking falls at a good tempo. Of course, the way to take falls in (APOD: amateur) wrestling is a bit different from pro wrestling, so it didn’t go well. In the end, we had to keep doing it until we got it right, and I think I took around 200 falls in total. The aftereffects of those falls from when I was a rookie still remain. Sitting in the same position for a long time makes my back hurt terribly, which is probably due to injuring my spine back then and leaving it as is. After we finished taking falls, we moved on to sparring, just like in New Japan, focusing only on the ground. After being made to take falls more than everyone else, I was exhausted and then got beaten up by each of the seniors one by one. This is what you would call ‘loving care’ in sumo. After I was so worn out that I could barely stand, they told me it was time for squats, and I had to do 500 after getting off the ring. Normally, I could do squats easily, but after this training, it was quite tough. After practice, we went shopping. It felt a bit like a repeat of high school days.”

APOD: Kawada doesn’t mention it but AJPW wrestlers were, according to Richard Slinger, also taught to shoot; that is, wrestle and fight for real before anything else. This was done to protect the company’s reputation from other martial artists and brave (read: stupid) challengers who thought that wrestlers weren’t really all they were hyped up to be. So if you watch any old AJPW matches you’re very likely to see some mat wrestling or amateur take-downs because everyone was trained on how to do these things).

Then after being particularly thankful to seniors Mitsuo Momota and Akio Sato for helping him out during his rookie years, Kawada moves on to what is purported to be a promotion…of sorts: being Giant Baba’s bag carrier. Kawada alleges that Baba throw some acquaintance out a second-floor window but this was in winter so that poor soul’s landing was softened by snow. But Kawada’s time as a bag carrier was just as hard because now he has to deal with the hardships of traveling as a wrestler.

Kawada is tasked with carrying Baba’s large bags along with his own through Japan’s complex and byzantine public transit service. He is left “drenched in sweat” on a regular basis doing this, and it’s worsened by some instances where the lack of public transit forces him to take a taxi, which is incredibly expensive (APOD: I can confirm this from firsthand experience as well. The one thing you ought to avoid as much as possible is taking taxis in Japan as they are ludicrously expensive. Use them only as a last possible resort, no matter where you are in the country). This situation is worsened by Kawada’s meager, pitiful salary as a wrestler: 45,000 yen after deductions (he doesn’t specify if this is weekly or monthly; either way, it amounts to fuck all). As such, he is forced to rely on his mother’s financial support to keep going.

Kawada goes on to note that some of the bus trips took six to seven hours one way, given AJPW’s traditional ties to smaller and rural towns. So given his place at the bottom of the totem pole, Kawada would often load up everyone else’s baggage only to find there was literally nowhere on the bus for him to sit. (APOD: back in my review of the Kawada/Kobashi January 1995 match review I mentioned Kawada’s overall theme of him being an afterthought, which ultimately spurred these book reviews. This is but the first expression of that theme: there’s no room for Kawada the trainee on the multi-seat bus so he has to sit in the doorway [where he freezes in the winter and almost boils alive in the summer]? The fact that he continued through all of this speaks volumes to the man’s incredible resolve). Kawada tries a makeshift solution by “borrowing” an ordinary folding chair which, to him, feels like a sofa compared to the steps by the door. But this only lasts one day as the driver throws the chair out.

Then Kawada goes over his tasks as a trainee: setup the dressing room for the show, help build the ring, carry any barbells for someone needing to train a bit further, assist in adding and removing the stairs to enter the ring, coordinate transportation for foreigners to and from their hotels, clean-up any of his seniors’ training equipment, fold wrestlers’ costumes, clean up the dressing rooms, clean up Baba’s stuff…and then head home, meaning a hotel, where more tasks await. Just like in high school, Kawada is tasked with preparing meals for his seniors and, if those guys want to go out drinking, the underlings must go to keep them company. If he isn’t asked to accompany anyone then he must do laundry (which is much more complicated back in the early 80s with fewer dryers available). And just like in high school, Kawada is cursed with a lack of newbies to follow him so he ends up in this menial and repetitive position for an incredibly long time.

It takes a LOOONG time but Kawada finally debuts as a wrestler on October 4, 1982. His debut makes is against Fuyuki in an empty lot in front of the Ohara Fire Station in Chiba Prefecture. Another important moment in the “afterthought” theme rears its head as the pamphlet listing his name appears to be written in poorly-scribed katakana, leading to the impression that Kawada’s name was a foreigner’s. Then he has this interaction with some nameless AJPW office guy:

“Unable to bear it any longer, I went to ask him, ‘Please make a stamp for me,’ and he replied, ‘You’re not bringing the stamp fee, so I’m not making one for you.’ When I brought the fee, it turned out to be a joke; he actually thought, ‘It’s a waste to make a stamp since this guy will probably quit soon anyway.’”

(APOD: It seems like the office thought so little of Kawada they didn’t want to go through the effort of even promoting him. Though Kawada doesn’t say much about this beyond “What a terrible story”, it speaks to this same theme of him being largely forgotten compared to everyone else.)

Kawada continues describing being given more chores and tasks, which mount on top of his required training and his time in prelim matches. He talks about having to change in a public bathroom (APOD: MIZ ISN’T THE ONLY ONE!) and then finds himself lonely because Misawa and someone named “Mr. Echigo” go abroad to Mexico (APOD: this might be a fault of my translator but I have no knowledge of a wrestler named “Echigo”).

Three years pass before any serious recruits come to the All Japan dojo. Though Kawada notes many to actually go through their doors, so few actually stay for more than a few days and some quit after only thirty minutes. One of these failed trainees is some guy named Umemoto, who is only important because he allegedly steals a pair of Kawada’s boots…which he ends up giving to Kenta Kobashi when he arrives in the AJPW dojo. Soon after that Yoshinari Ogawa joins as well. Interestingly, Ogawa wanted to quit much sooner but his own father motivated him to see it through (APOD: and lo, how things ended up: Ogawa would debut in 1985 and retire in August 2024, after some 4,000 matches under his belt).

APOD: So this chapter is largely uneventful and only serves to further reinforce just how physically and mentally demanding Kawada’s life was as a trainee. Though he was technically getting paid as a wrestler it wasn’t enough to live; without his mother helping him out he’d probably be destitute, unable to afford even the basics of wrestling gear. Maybe everyone expected him to quit so they put him through the ringer to break him and test his mettle and, to their amazement, he kept going. Yet given AJPW’s notoriously small roster it seemed like beggars couldn’t be choosers, so why they were intentionally gatekeeping someone that actually head both heart and interest is a mystery.

Thanks for reading. That’ll do it for this entry. Next Time: Chapter 4 (the really fun one): Survival Overseas Warrior Training