5-Star BOOK Reviews: Kenta Kobashi’s Books, Part IX

With FIST concluded, we now shift towards the other major part of Kenta Kobashi’s career, that being his time in NOAH. He has written very little about this period, and while he notes in PILLARS (which was published in 2016) that he might write another book going further into NOAH, as of 2025 he hasn’t done so. The only details about his part of his career have come from secondhand sources and observations. So for all intents and purposes this section is the closest we will get to knowing what was going through Kobashi’s mind as he struggled to surpass expectations set by his in-ring accolades during his time in All Japan.

But first, a Talk Battle with Kobashi, Kyohei Wada, and Kairi Hojo to conclude PILLARS.

You can read part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here, part 7 here, and part 8 here.

Kobashi opens his talk battle by introducing Wada and Hojo. He knew Wada from his years of refereeing Kobashi’s matches while he describes first meeting Hojo while he was doing an interview column for Weekly Pro Wrestling and apparently he was so impressed with her that he wanted her to appear on his Fortune Dream 2 show right away.

Wada talks about Kobashi as someone who was fighting the audience as much as his opponents (APOD: This is in the same vein as Aja Kong’s statement “the match is with the customers”) and notices how Kobashi and the other Kings were trying their best to surpass each match to live up to fan expectations. Meanwhile, Hojo describes first entering wrestling not knowing anything about it until then-president Rossy Ogawa tells her to find a wrestler aim for and understand the style she’d want to pursue. After asking friends and fans for advice, plenty of them sent her tapes of Kobashi and from there she sticks with him. She then proves his many previous uplifting statements with her own personal perspective:

“There are many babyface wrestlers in the pro wrestling world, but there’s no one like Kobashi-san, a super babyface. It’s beyond words. He never forgets to express gratitude to the fans, and no matter what move he takes, his eyes never lose their spark. Just watching him is captivating… I think many people from my generation might not know him, but if they watch his matches, they will definitely become fans, regardless of age or gender! In my case, when I’m struggling with my path or suffering mentally, I watch the matches between Misawa-san and Kobashi-san, and just that gives me power.”

Wada notes Kobashi’s rebellious spirit and how he was constantly put against foreigners like Stan Hansen to cultivate that never-give-up attitude until he became a lovable superstar. Meanwhile, Hojo notes that she adheres to a similar philosophy to Kobashi by stating that she might not be satisfied with her own matches and would want more. Wada also points out that, after matches, Kobashi would go around asking people their thoughts and what he could do to improve. Usually the other three Kings wouldn’t say much (he chocks that up to personalities) but Kobashi would persist until someone in the match would give him feedback, such was his dedication to self-improvement.

The conversation shifts towards failures and botches and Kobashi notes that good things can be born from this. He and Wada recall some match between Kobashi and Stan Hansen in which Hansen slipped off the top rope and crashed onto Kobashi in a sloppy manner but Wada notes the crowd loved it because it looked dangerous and fit with Hansen’s wild, rugged, and unpolished style. Kobashi also notes that his first moonsault attempts during matches were botched because he messed up the trajectory and overshot them completely.

Shifting back to Four Heavenly Kings wrestling matches, Kobashi notes that the referee was told never to interfere with the action (i.e. get physically involved) so Wada had to move around so enhance the excitement of the match. (APOD: Wada confirms this in his book, describing how he determined never to interrupt the excitement or flow of matches, even if they may have at times descended into constant interference. However, this sort of contradicts Baba’s orders of the referee having absolute authority in matches as they would in a sport, and in the later 1990s this would manifest in much more blatant American-style double-teams that would, from one perspective, bury the authority of the ref. But according to Wada, maintaining the flow and excitement was worth sacrificing the veneer of complete sport-like authority). Wada also notes that the Kings’ matches had so much movement and unpredictability that he at times didn’t know when/if he should stop things. Wada also notes that counting the three-count is much harder because of increased pressure to not screw things up given how common 2.9-counts had become by the end of the 1990s:

“The moment to count “Three” is truly difficult. After getting to “One, Two,” you can’t just count “Three” at the same timing. So at the moment of “Three,” you have to quickly check the body of the wrestler being held down. Before, Misawa told me during a match, “Kyohei-chan, the opponent isn’t bouncing,” but I said, “But their legs moved.” No matter how much they’re being beaten, they won’t just lift their shoulders; their body moves as if to bounce back.What’s important is not “Did you see the shoulder go up just now!?” but rather “You must always make the audience understand.” So if you return it with your whole body, the audience will go “Wow!” but if you just lift your shoulder, they’ll be like “Huh?!?!” If it’s unclear, the audience won’t get excited. So, as I said earlier, we are also competing with the audience.”

(APOD: This reads like it’s directly referencing the singles match between Misawa and Kawada from June 1997 in which Kawada didn’t lift his shoulders but Wada counted it as a near-fall. He claimed elsewhere that he saw Kawada’s leg move and so he didn’t count to three, which forced Misawa to improvise and deadlift an out-on-his-feet Kawada into a bridging German for the three-count.)

Wada then goes on to talk about how he thought Kobashi shined brighter than everyone else even as a rookie which Kobashi attributes to the double whammy of filling the void left by the Tenryu Exodus and seeing Baba slumped in a corner, unable to get up on his own, after getting clobbered by Terry Gordy. Hojo makes a comparison with a similar situation in Stardom in ~2015 and how she basically echoed Kobashi’s sentiment of making Stardom better despite the loss of talent.

There’s some more talk about what makes Four Heavenly Kings wrestling so appealing and they start listing things off: a sense of conviction, clean wrestling without bullshit, fair officiating, no fouls or referee stoppages, and again this overall emphasis on sportsmanship. He also notes a distinction between men’s and women’s pro-wrestling regarding seconds helping wrestlers during intervals. Such a thing is a no-no in AJPW but in women’s matches it’s allowed (If you’ve seen any two-out-of-three-falls matches, usually from Zenjo, then the seconds are actively helping the combattants between falls by giving them water, handing them towels, and helping them up ahead of the next fall. Such things give those matches more of a sports-like feel but still a different flavor from 1990s AJPW).

Wada notes that Kobashi would take the time to sign autographs for fans whenever possible, which at times irritated his fellow wrestlers because he’d be holding up the bus. Then the discussion shifts towards the dangerous spots in their matches, which has been a loud and common criticism of theirs, especially following Misawa’s death and the content of various books and interviews that’ve come out over the years. However, both Wada and Kobashi didn’t think what they were doing was dangerous; Kobashi believes that “there’s no such thing as wrestling that isn’t dangerous” while Wada defends the style by noting that all four of them trained so much and put so much effort into having solid foundations that their bodies were all strong enough to endure these ludicrous and excessive attacks while others trying to replicate this would inevitably fail.

“That’s just a different foundation. It’s dangerous because those without a foundation try to do it. I’ve seen the Four Heavenly Kings of Pro Wrestling up close, and I’ve never thought it was dangerous. The wrestlers have the skills to do it. In fact, Joe [Higuchi] also said, “I can’t keep up with that pro wrestling.” He thought it was dangerous, like it was going too far. He said, “I don’t know where to stop.” But I told him, “This is their pro wrestling, so isn’t that okay?” Then he said, “Then from now on, you take responsibility for the main event.” That’s how the generational transition happened, or rather, how it was passed down. Each of us has developed and evolved with the foundation we’ve built, with a spirit of improvement… that’s what the Four Heavenly Kings Pro Wrestling is! I don’t want it to be easily dismissed with just the phrase “it’s dangerous.” I’ve watched Mitsuharu Misawa fighting while suffering from a concussion, and I’ve seen Kenta Kobashi holding his knee in agony many times, yet because I know the abilities of the four of them, I could watch with peace of mind. I’ve seen how each of them has trained their bodies and techniques. So I’ve never thought it was too dangerous. Even if someone says it’s dangerous just by focusing on that part, I want them to understand the process leading up to it. That’s why, if the current wrestlers try to do it, it could be dangerous. I might think it’s dangerous, too. There are plenty of current wrestlers who want to have matches like that. But pro wrestling can’t be done alone. Without the skill of both yourself and your opponent, you can’t have that kind of match.”

That’s the last important note from this interview and the book concludes with another note of thanks from Kobashi.

APOD: PILLARS is a great book as well but it’s a bit more dramatic than FIST. This one reads as more of a compliment piece to FIST, filling in gaps and providing more details on specific situations (and in some cases contradicting them), which makes for an unusual choice. He had already described his biggest career moments in FIST and added more in REGRETS, so for him to focus on the AJPW leg of his career again without actually going further into detail on big moments of Four Heavenly Kings wrestling matches seems like an odd choice. If someone is looking for an overall summary of Kobashi’s career then FIST would be the better choice. The interview at the end has a few interesting anecdotes as well but most of them come from Wada and not Kobashi, which is why I also bought Wada’s book since he’s much more open and detailed on things he has seen and witnessed. As for Kobashi’s fourth book, it’s clearly another passion piece but it’s a bit on the dramatic side of things.He puts himself at the center of every occurrence and frames it as a conflict, either internal or external. There were segments that were factual but others that were riddled with this almost overly dramatic tone regarding his feelings, especially around 1995-1996. Yes it might just be kayfabe for the sake of adding drama but at the same time his explanation lacks wider perspective. Maybe that was done intentionally so that the reader could better empathize with Kobashi’s plights, both real and perceived. But in some cases his reactions to things seemed a bit overblown and leaned too far into idealism. While he definitely comes across as someone who is CLEARLY passionate about wrestling and is happy to talk about it, this first book does take a bit to get through during the parts where Kobashi talks about his inner struggles with dramatic and at times exaggerated language. But hey, at least he’s more upfront about his opinions and isn’t shy about sharing them, which is extremely refreshing since I was expecting more of that typical Japanese evasiveness here. So all in all, a fun read though not truly perfect.

Final Rating: ****3/4

And now, we begin our shift into his post-Exodus career, seen through his third book.

Kobashi begins by giving a surface-level summary of the things he saw and witnessed as a member of AJPW’s executive board: it’s something we’ve all heard by now, that Misawa’s attempts at changes or modernization were all vetoed by Motoko Baba. He also recalls being asked by her to transfer all of his ownership shares to Misawa, but he was conflicted between doing what she asked out of love for her late husband and doing what was best for Misawa and his fellow wrestling comrades and what to do for the fans. But when Misawa approaches him with his plan to launch NOAH Kobashi doesn’t hesitate at all and supports him from the start.

Kobashi finds himself caught off guard with NOAH’s debut show pushed ahead from October 2000 to August due to financial issues. This change rearranges his surgery plans, causing him to shift from a major surgery that would give him time off to recover to an emergency surgery that would address immediate issues and allow him to wrestle on that August show. He also notes that he underwent a name change around this time which doesn’t translate all that clearly into English but here it is anyway:

“While everyone called Misawa and Kawada by their last names, I was often called by my full name, “Kobashi Kenta,” rather than just “Kobashi.” Even though the kanji changed, I didn’t want to change the sound of “Kobashi Kenta,” so after some thought, I decided to use the kanji “建,” which has a good stroke count and also means “to build,” symbolizing my intention to build NOAH.”

Kobashi begins his NOAH career trying to establish his own era, separate from that of the Four Heavenly Kings, but finds himself losing to Akiyama and feeling his body not cooperating with him. To further emphasize this shift Kobashi trades his trademark orange color scheme for a black one (leading to some commentators calling him Oni no Kobashi [Demon Kobashi]) to emphasize his willingness to “break out of his shell”. This allows him to beat Akiyama on December 23, 2000 in the first real NOAH classic.

Kobashi wakes up the next day and finds that his legs can’t even move. Because he didn’t get surgery six months earlier his knees are now in significantly worse condition and he’s forced to take over a year off from wrestling. His doctor has to transplant bone from his right pelvis to his knee to elevate the ligaments. What puzzles the doctor is that, allegedly, this type of procedure had never been done on an active athlete and, to both Kobashi’s and the hospital staff’s knowledge, no one had ever returned to active competition of any kinds afterwards. But his doctor, apparently inspired by Kobashi himself, will make him the first. And so Kobashi has a total of six surgeries on his knees and elbows.

As all of this happens Kobashi learns of NOAH’s inaugural GHC Heavyweight tournament in April 2001 and tries to hurry the process along but the doctor tells him the transplanted bones haven’t even fused yet. Frustrated, Kobashi spends many night staring out his hospital room window into the empty sea wondering if the god of pro wrestling still needs him or not. In the end it takes Kobashi 395 days to return to the ring and Kobashi suffers another injury, this time unrelated to his knees. He suffers a partial ACL tear in his left foot which he attributes to losing his sense of timing from being away from the ring for so long. He goes through with another procedure but this one doesn’t require any hospitalization. After all, he doesn’t to let down anyone who had followed him and believed him.

Kobashi finally gets to a world title shot, which takes place on March 1, 2003. He notes that there are many events taking place that night with competing fan attendances: a K-1 MMA fight, a sold-out World Japan card, a few smaller satellite promotions selling out smaller venues all around Tokyo, and of course, NOAH in the Nippon Budokan. Kobashi also notes that he gets worried whenever it rains (as it does that day) because that tends to discourage people from attending live wrestling. However, this time his worries are proven false because around 16,700 people attend the Budokan to see Misawa & Kobashi clash for the world title for the last time.

He doesn’t go into that match’s details all that much here but he does note that he finals wins, ushering in his era and holding the belt for two years. During this period he was called “The Absolute Champion” and found himself being compared to not just champions from other promotions but from other sports. Fully aware of the MMA boom happening around him, Kobashi fought to stand out as a wrestling champion without imitating anyone. Sadly Kobashi doesn’t go into specific matches during this reign, which is odd given his usual penchant for talking about big matches and delivering for the fans. He ignores his match with Jun Akiyama in the Tokyo Dome which was, at the time, NOAH’s biggest accomplishment. The only anecdotes he provides about being champion are how he wore it to every venue all across the country and how he made sure the belt always looked shiny. But once he lost the belt to Takeshi Rikio, he looked for other things to do, and found them in crosspromotional matches.

The first of these match is, of course, his legendary battle with Kensuke Sasaki at Destiny 2005. He doesn’t say much about this, other than his only prior meeting with Sasaki was a friendly chat at a train station years earlier when both of them were stuck at the same station due to a typhoon. The two of them had no other contact up to and including the day of the show. In other words, that epic battle, 5-minute chopfest included, was all called on the fly.

“Later, when I watched the VTR of that match, I couldn’t help but laugh at how thoroughly we went at it. It was possible to have such a match because my opponent was Sasaki, and I’m really glad I got to meet the wrestler Kensuke Sasaki at that time. Hearing that the defeated Sasaki was doing push-ups in the locker room after the match ignited my fighting spirit, to say the least. Even after the match, our battle continues.”

And then…Kobashi goes to America. And things do not start all that well for him.

“In my first match at WLW in Eldon, my opponent was a local babyface. Even when I entered the ring, the venue was silent because I was not well-known at all. I understand that it’s natural to cheer for the local wrestler, but it was frustrating to have their support completely overshadow mine. “How am I going to turn this around?” I had that excitement. However, without doing anything particularly special, as the match went on, the crowd gradually became more and more excited. I was convinced that even if the language barrier existed, if I put on a passionate match, it would resonate with everyone, and the same happened when I went to ROH in New York next.”

(APOD: Kobashi’s experience here gives some MUCH needed context to the story behind his next match, that being his iconic bout with Samoa Joe. As anyone who has listened to Joe’s comments on Steve Austin’s podcast, Kobashi went into this believing nobody knew who the hell he was. From this experience in Eldon, Missouri Kobashi’s perspective isn’t all that farfetched. He had never been to America before and his first match was with some low-level local guy [no offense to Wild Wade Chism] and Kobashi’s energy-and-noise-driven style didn’t connect at all. No wonder he initially felt a sense of panic and had to reconsider something more ‘outlandish’ so that he would get a bigger reaction).

Of course, Kobashi’s preconceptions are shattered when he enters the venue in New York. It’s the complete opposite of that WLW show, with ~800 people giving Kobashi the kind of reaction he’d get when entering the Budokan. As for why he went into this match researching Samoa Joe in the hopes of putting on the perfect match, he explains in DOCUMENT that he thinks about wrestling 24/7 and the fans cheering for him means a hell of a lot.

“I always think seriously about pro wrestling and my matches. The cheers that encourage me and give me strength are truly precious. Since I’m fortunate enough to receive those cheers at the venue, I believe I must respond to them by putting my life on the line in my matches. For that reason, I analyze my opponents for every match and study them seriously. Of course, this also helps me raise my own voltage. I think image training is extremely important for putting on a great match.”

Then the match finally comes and Kobashi, who is worn out physically compared to his 1990s prime, still has to compete against someone who is younger, faster, hungrier, and willing to hit as hard as his fellow Kings. Since Kobashi can’t use his power on Joe as much as he could in the past, he’s forced to adapt. But being someone who thinks about wrestling so much, Kobashi displays the ability to come up with different ways to make his matches more exciting. Per DOCUMENT,

“Of course, I take pride in my wrestling, but I don’t have the confidence to say that someone who has never watched wrestling before would be 100% satisfied after watching my match. Still, because I want to satisfy those people, I put everything into each and every match. Since I lack confidence, all I can do is work hard.
After undergoing knee surgery, I started thinking that way. In the ring, I might have an image of achieving about ten out of ten, but I feel like I hit only nine. So, unless I practice repeatedly over and over, I can’t be satisfied.
When it comes to practice, it’s become a daily routine, like taking a shower or eating a meal.
It’s just part of my everyday life now. After all, as long as the fans have expectations of me, I have to elevate Kenta Kobashi as a professional wrestler even more.
That applies to the moves I use as well. Even with moves that have been used countless times before,
I want to elevate their value by using them. I want to treat each and every move with care. For instance, even with something like a knife-edge chop, I didn’t invent it myself. So unless I put a lot of thought into how I use it, I can’t surpass the original. Even with moves that have already been overused, I want to use them in a way that no one else can imitate. By doing so, I want to surpass the original.
No matter what techniques I use, I always carry a sense of respect and complex feelings toward the originals. Nowadays, so many techniques have already been created that it’s almost impossible to come up with something completely new. As a result, it’s inevitable to imitate someone else to some degree. But the way you use it can’t be exactly the same as someone else. That’s the case with the lariat. With so many wrestlers using it, it becomes important to add your own original touch to it. Otherwise, it can’t become your signature move.”

(APOD: Well now we know why he uses chops so much).

So Kobashi wrestles the match (strangely not even mentioning Joe by name) and is once again floored by the response he gets from the crowd, per REGRETS:

“At ROH, the crowd was already buzzing with excitement from the start, and I was surprised when a “Arigatou” chant broke out after the match. I had never heard such a chant before, so when I asked various photographers who travel the world with different sports, they said it was their first time too. I have a sense of rivalry with other sports, so perhaps receiving what was likely the first “Arigatou” chant in the sports world left me filled with gratitude.”

The chapter ends with him summarizing his European tour (not mentioning his appearance in the UK) but noting how he experienced tavern wrestling in Germany (as part of a wXw show), and again expresses more gratitude towards the fans.

APOD: This was a fun section of Kobashi’s life and career with plenty of interesting introspection and looks into his mindset. Though he doesn’t appear to be one to talk about specific matches at this point, he does still talk about himself and how he tackles each challenge. A joke that I’ve seen in a few places is that Kobashi is a narcissist/self-absorbed person, but according to Akira Taue this isn’t meant as an insult. While he might come across as self-absorbed his actions and motivations are for the fans. He’s willing to do so much and put himself through such incredible physical and mental strain because he can’t give up on those that’ve supported him thus far. While it’s a bit underwhelming to not hear him talk about his matches during this period (especially his 2003 match with Misawa that is still GOAT-tier), he does at least feel happy that people remember his matches in a general sense. That continued support is going to be a major theme once again in the next section, when Kobashi tackles kidney cancer and the final stages of his wrestling career.

Thanks for reading.