Hangman Adam Page vs Jon Moxley: Through the Rugged Sky

This is a remix of a previous article by Corey Michaels, recalling the story of Hangman Adam Page vs Jon Moxley at AEW Revolution 2023, originally published in March 2023.

“And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying,
Come and see.
And I saw, and behold a white horse…
And the name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”
– Revelation 6:1-17

Evergreen in storytelling and the arts is that there are multiple mediums to bring something beautiful, something memorable. Professional wrestling is one such facet of the paradigm. Hope, discomfort, what-have-you. It is the means of translating and communicating the trials and tribulations of heroes and villains, conveying the human condition. Sometimes, not every time, does it need words. The action does the storytelling.

On March 5, 2023, two men had a bloody affair to test just that.

The story is easy to follow if one truly pays attention, as the pages are scribed with betrayals, learning from failure, and the existential mortality of man. It involves a freak accident involving Jon Moxley that concussed Hangman Adam Page to the point he couldn’t remember his own child’s name for an uncomfortable amount of time. The words shared in true vitriol among them are reminiscent of literature. An Old West tale written by a scribe dedicated to badass dialogue. 

This wrestling storyline is a testament that not every rivalry needs a championship to be special – all you need is a damn good reason to fight. On that fateful San Francisco night, the terror of human capability would be tested.

Adam Page entered this match to The Outlaws’ cover of “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky”, as though an ominous warning that he’d let nothing stop him, no surcease in what he had to do for retribution.

As his blonde hair flowed, washed in crimson shadow as he strutted to the ring, the arena was bathed in darkness and in red – a harbinger of what was to come; a hell that was to be brought about, and all the layers that come with it. One guitar bounces its chords, a tumbleweed in the wind, before the galloping of the melody that is the Southern rock cover of the country classic played. As a barbed-wire table sits neatly against the ring, Page awaited he whom the bell tolled for.

Moxley sauntered through the crowd to his usual tune of X’s “Wild Thing”, nothing special. To him, this is but another night of combat, and shows he still, still does not take Page that seriously – that he will simply run through his doe-eyed opponent. 

Before the bell could even ring, Moxley was assaulted immediately by his foe, as he was wailed on. The crowd ate it up like a well-cooked dinner served by a five-star chef. Fitting, for the fork spot later on.

Eventually, in the ring, the most important weapons start the in-ring competition – elbow strikes and chest slaps. The human body colliding with another human body in primal rage, which satisfies the crowds like in the Roman Colosseum in the days of the gladiator. But this ain’t no Russel Crowe flick.

Lacing his fist and later his cowboy boot with barbed wire, Hangman bore no relent, unforgiving towards Moxley, who soon fires back, going so far as to bite the Virginian Outlaw. 

Moxley was born in this fight, baptized in gore, but Hangman, at this point, was blessed by the gods of Texas Deathmatches. Only he without sin and without blood is without honor here.

The aforementioned fork pierces through Page’s cranium, leaking sanguine droplets — the blood of both men has been spilt.

Much like a duel outside a shady saloon, the two attempt to shoot each other into a chair, also crowned in barbed wire, but Moxley’s gun leaves the smoke from his pistol as Page collides with it. Moxley does not cease in this; the inanimate chair is thirsty for blood.

The Blackpool Combat Club member grew too greedy, mauling Page on a turnbuckle, but his own blade pierces him once he’s dropped onto a pair of chairs with the protruding barbs. Tenacious and without quit, the Cowboy wrapped that same wire around himself and flung his own body toward the Ohio native. 

The once-bloodthirsty San Francisco crowd, who clamored for and loved every bit of carnage shown previously, covered their mouths in collective gasp, yet they couldn’t look away, and they couldn’t refuse to make a noise. Who these guys embody and who these guys are, it seemed so real and raw, yet it must happen. It has to happen.

“You sick fuck!” the crowd chanted as Moxley, wrapped in a chain, stomped on a brick sandwich – Page’s hand as the meat.

Moxley hogtied Page with the chain, feeding him more agony — and Hangman is the type to bite the hand that feeds. 

These gladiators collided like gasoline and water, liquids that refuse to mix, yet clashing in the substance they are. Each time a fatal blow is dealt, they get right back up. These are creatures whose hearts endlessly pump blood, coursing through them with the power of warriors.

Moxley’s hand, he dealt himself, stabbed him in the back once more, leaving him impaled on a chair adorned with barbed wire, shocking him, and revealing a weakness not often shown in him. This match is getting to him, but his pride won’t let him go down that easily.

Jon went far enough as to claw at Adam’s back, who met it in kind, actually drawing blood. Not happy with this, The Death Rider rakes barbed wire across the flesh of Page’s back. As the Romans of old did with Jesus of Nazareth, as he did with Adam Cole the year prior on an episode of Rampage, Hangman propped Moxley with a crown of barbed wire. Reeling, yet pissed off enough, Moxley tosses Page onto another barbed-wire table, flirting with a countout. 

Lariat upon lariat, blood for blood, their textbook was written in violence. Moxley unleashed a Death Rider onto Page and curb-stomped him before almost choking Hangman out. Moxley again lay in wait, telling Page to stay down as he wrapped the chain around his wrist. Page, prepared, grabs hold of it and reels Moxley in like an expert fisherman to clothesline him.

The noose, nearly ready, signalled the time of the hanging. Mockingly, Moxley wrapped it around his neck before he was met with a brick to the face.

High noon arrived. Hangman’s lariat propelled Moxley over the top rope. He grasped the end of the chain, hanging Moxley over it.

The horns, the trumpets blast from a cosmic abyss, a self-apocalypse. Panic set in Moxley. Worry danced across his face. Sensing in a few moments his body would writhe and his legs would shake as life itself would abandon him, Moxley, on instinct as a father, husband, and hungry wrestler, taps frantically, lest he become a wraith, a reminder of his own folly. These fathers have bled tonight.

The Hangman got his man, and a blood debt was paid in full; he rode away on his pale horse.

Matches like this in wrestling came not too often on mainstream platforms, but on March 5, this match told a wonderful, brutal, beautiful story of the indomitable human spirit. Matches of this caliber, since on AEW and even sporadically in WWE, highlight the gruesome nature of visceral storytelling. 

I understand that bouts such as this Texas Deathmatch aren’t for everyone, but I know we’re all smart enough to move on to what is for us. As for this? I loved it. Then and now, I admire the grit and temerity it takes to pull off stunts like this.

This story 100% called for blood and brutality between two men with different approaches to this match, but they clashed wonderfully.

Matches like these are not for the squeamish or the faint of heart. Even so, it’s tame in comparison to what else is out there. For special occasions in the mainstream, it’s what makes pro wrestling special. Just how impactful gratuitous violence is in wrestling can lie in the story and its telling. At AEW Revolution 2023, Hangman Adam Page and Jon Moxley created a red-and-gritty, carnage-filled tale and performance that became a staple of the genre.