AAA Triplemania 2023 Monterrey recap & review

Back in June 2022, in the early days of this blog, I wrote a recap of the Tijiuana leg of last year’s Triplemania XXX triple-header. Today, I find myself back in Triplemania territory, and likely repeating much of the same praise, the same criticisms, and the same wishful thinking for a promotion pathologically incapable of getting out of its own way.

Triplemania is a little more fluid of a concept than it’s non-union American equivalent, Wrestlemania. Whereas ‘Mania only recently became a two-night affair, early iterations of Triplemania (stylised as, for example, “Triplemania III-A, III-B, and III-C”) were a series of two or three shows, split out across days, weeks, or up to a month, and across multiple cities - with 1996’s Triplemania IV-A even heading north of the border, for a disastrous foray into Chicago, plagued by no-shows, poor booking, minimal effort to tailor the show for a western audience, and missing many of the top advertised stars - Eddy Guerrero was wrestling in Japan at the time, while AAA in their infinite wisdom booked the show the same day as Rey Misterio Jr’s wedding, meaning neither Rey or his best man Psicosis were available. The show drew an audience of just over 2000, to a venue with a capacity of almost five times that. The convention of multi-city Triplemania tours was abandoned after one more year, but revived for the 30th Triplemania last year - and that, presumably, was a success, given that in 2023 we are again being treated to three Triplemania-branded events, in the same three cities; Monterrey, Tijuana, and Mexico City.

In theory, a three-show run for your most marketable event is a booker’s dream. Angles can be set up on show one to pay off on show two or three, and stories can build organically across the three, allowing for a real sense of dramatic continuity, even for those fans who only tune in a couple of times a year. But then one must remember that this is AAA we’re talking about, and coherent stories, logical builds, and actually delivering on promised matches are apparently anathema to them. It’s a Lucha Libre problem, not just a AAA problem - when Luchadores know that matches for their masks and hair are more valuable, and more marketable, than the countless title belts floating around Mexico, it allows them a sense of agency that is absent when the most valuable trinkets are those controlled by promoters. Any Mexican wrestler with a live microphone may choose to challenge another to an apuestas match, in the hope of forcing a promoter’s hand towards booking it. Matches are teased for future big shows and never delivered - my beloved Blue Demon Jr. vs. Dr Wagner Jr. mask vs. mask match was predicated by a hastily booked Blue Demon heel turn when original Wagner opponent L.A. Park, announced at the previous year’s show, fell out with AAA management and found himself persona non grata for the umpteenth time. In the end, Park and AAA made up and he was back on the show anyway, free to hype up yet more matches he had no intention of ever delivering. Most amusingly, the long-running, on-and-off feud between Konnan and Vampiro was due to come to a head that same year in a “Loser Leaves Mexico” match that was abandoned when, in the months between the match being announced and the show itself, Vampiro simply…left Mexico. No need for the stipulation then, I suppose. Last year, a match was set up on show one to pit Jeff Jarrett and Rey Escorpion against Vampiro and Latin Lover on one of the subsequent events. The match didn’t happen, Vampiro found himself in a supporting role to Pagano, and none of the other wrestlers involved even showed up again.

One of the guiding principles of televised Lucha Libre is that Luchadores must monopolise every moment of attention they get, and make the most of whatever on-camera time is available to them. If you watch old WCW segments featuring the Latino World Order, they’re a masterclass in screen-hogging, as in every two minute promo, wrestlers are expert camera-hogs, jostling for prime position, looking to make the most of every second on-screen. Years ago, when I worked with Tatanka, he talked of how during group photos, the ‘90s WWF roster would stand on tip-toes while pushing down on the shoulders of the man next to them, each trying to look taller and more prominent than their contemporaries. The wrestlers of the WWF’s “New Generation” are rank amateurs in the art of attention-grabbing compared to Luchadores of similar vintage.

The downside to the ceaseless quest to exploit every second of screen-time is that it can run contrary to logical match structure (insofar as such a thing recognisably exists in Lucha Libre) - never more apparent than in Triplemania’s opening match, a 10-man free-for-all cage match between five pairs of alleged rivals (some of the feuds involved were paper thin and manufactured out of whole cloth, some warmed over after years of inaction), with the final two competitors advancing to a Mask vs. Mask match later in the show. A dive from atop a steel cage is a death-defying, awe-inspiring moment of daredevil acrobatics that would make the highlight reel on any show - three said dives during one match cancel each other out, with none more memorable than the rest, and that’s the situation this match found itself in.

Most predicted that Antifaz del Norte, a near-30 year veteran who quietly returned to AAA last year following four years out of the ring, and a decade before that out of AAA, was the most likely loser - his return to AAA predicated on the big payday that comes with cashing in one’s mask and identity. That wasn’t the case, though - for whatever reason, Antifaz was written out of the match before it even began, following a pre-match brawl with apparent “rival” Laredo Kid. The match instead came down to Myzteziz Jr. and Argenis, which was unexpected, but perhaps the most compelling of all potential pairings - we’ll come back to them later.

The second match had, once upon a time, been the most heavily promoted on the show and - for once, through no fault of AAA’s - been reduced to an afterthought. AAA stalwart Chessman had been due to wrestle YouTuber Adrian Marcelo, following a somewhat Kaufman/Lawler-esque angle in which Chessman slapped a celebrity at an event, and found himself suspended from AAA for his actions. The altercation was presumed to be a work, and proved as such when somebody managed to film Chessman and Marcelo training together through an open window from an adjoining tower block, and post the clip on TikTok. You can plan for many things in wrestling, but that precise order of events is so far beyond expectation, that one actually has to have sympathy for AAA on this one. The cat was out of the bag, despite Chessman initially trying to feebly kayfabe it back in. The match was announced, and Marcelo continued training. But there were problems.

Problem 1: Any heat derived from the initial set-up has dissipated - everybody knew the match would be a work, but old-school Luchadores are still very protective of the business, and AAA and Chessman would have obviously preferred that this come across as a genuine grudge match, not the kind of highlight reel “aren’t we impressed at how well Bad Bunny can wrestle?” affair that WWE aim for in their celebrity matches.

Problem 2: The match was taking place in Monterrey, which has the strictest Lucha Libre commission in the country. In theory, all Luchadores have to pass physical exams to be granted their license before they begin wrestling, but Monterrey’s tests are harder than most. Not only that, they impose them on veteran luchadores as well as first-timers, meaning the local scene has all but dried up as bigger name wrestlers simply won’t put themselves through a three hour ordeal for the privilege of working there. For Adrian Marcelo, a major name outside of Lucha Libre, entering his first match, AAA thought that they could call in some favours, but the commission wanted to make an example of him - this was someone who, very publicly, was known to be having their first match, and they couldn’t be seen as a light touch. Marcelo’s fame brought cameras, which captured him abandoning the exam less than an hour in. No exam, no license, no match.

Problem 3: Perhaps all of this was moot - after Marcelo failed the exam, and while AAA were presumably scrambling for solutions as to how to still involve him on the show in a major way, he was accused of sexual assault. AAA pulled him from the card pending further investigation, and perhaps let out a sigh of relief in the process. One could question the ethics of pulling Marcelo on those grounds while booking Cain Velasquez last year while he was awaiting trial for murder, or booking Alberto el Patron this year, whose Wikipedia “Personal Life” and “Legal Issues” sections speak for themselves.

Problem 4: With Marcelo out of the match, it became Chessman (w/Hiedra) vs. A Mystery Opponent (w/Mr. Iguana). Wrestling fans are, understandably, primed to expect big things when greeted with a mystery opponent stipulation - if it were just somebody on the roster, they’d announce it, surely? So this must be a big deal. A scan of AAA’s Facebook and Twitter comments when teasing the opponent for El Hijo del Vikingo for this show produced such names as Kenny Omega, Kota Ibushi and even CM Punk, and it’s not unreasonable to think that expectations would have been only slightly lower here. The golden rule, when a wrestler becomes unavailable, is that you should strive to make the replacement equivalent or better, and always send the fans home happy. I’m not sure anyone told AAA.

Adrian Marcelo’s replacement, then, was Vampiro. He is, without question, a huge star, and it’s always nice to see him. But he is 55, to Chessman’s 47, and, if he is to be believed (a titanic “if”), afflicted with Alzheimers, arthritis, Parkinson’s, CTE, and previously having survived cancer, a brain tumour, and serious spinal injuries. Every other Facebook post on his account reads as if he has been away from wrestling for years, and tempted back for one big show before retirement - he has, in fact, been wrestling fairly regularly for a veteran of his age for the last two years, as well as making appearances for AAA as a special referee, and in other non-wrestling capacities. So he’s not much of a surprise, and it makes for not much of a match - even appealing to the old Lucha heads and running back a feud from a decade earlier (Chessman claimed Vampiro’s hair back in 2012), and even for those of us who take a perverse enjoyment in the more shambolic of old-man Lucha brawls, this match was an undeniable mess, with the broken down Chessman somehow the most mobile and able competitor, and Vampiro seemingly unwilling to sell or react to any of Chessman’s offence. Whatever Vampiro’s actual physical condition, he’s clearly a broken down wrestler who has no business carrying a 10 minute singles match in 2023, and, as Luchablog rightly pointed out, it’s unthinkable that the Commission that refused to allow Adrian Marcelo to compete would have ever allowed this version of Vampiro to pass a physical.

Not only was the match, between two bonafide stars of a decade and more past, a mess, it was barely about them. The veterans were the backdrop for a drama between their seconds, as the tecnico Mr. Iguana and rudo Hiedra’s light-hearted romance angle took centre stage. I’m a huge fan of Mr. Iguana, and will always hold a soft spot for Vampiro, but this match was a hard sell even for me.

Match 3 was Copa Triplemania, ordinarily a “get everyone on the card” multi-man match not unlike New Japan’s Rambo - elimination is by pinfall, submission, or being thrown over the top rope. This year, the added twist was a 5 vs. 5 affair for regional pride, and it was a gift for fans of ‘90s Luchadore, featuring as it did, the likes of El Zorro, Toscano/Tarzan Boy, and, in his first high profile AAA appearance since shockingly jumping ship from CMLL, and in his first Triplemania in a 43 year career, Negro Casas, along with Baby Extreme, Dave The Clown, Arez, Latigo, and Nino Hamburguesa, almost a guaranteed entrant in this sort of affair. Toscano - honoured earlier in the show for his 30 year career - looked fantastic, while El Zorro inexplicably wore the mask from a short-lived gimmick of many years previous, only to remove it midway through the match. It’s my first time seeing Zorro in many years, and he’s bulked out into the kind of beefy middle-aged Lucha brawler that, to my eyes, is the absolute pinnacle of wrestling performance, and you love to see it. Arez was, as ever, superb, and Baby Extreme (with the rare distinction of having the daftest ring name in a match that has Dave The Clown in it), absolutely shone in the brief run he was permitted. Latigo, too, was fantastic and carried much of the match.

It’s with no disrespect meant to the other competitors in the match, however, that everything felt like running down the clock, like a preamble to Negro Casas first getting involved. Casas - who came to the ring accompanied by one of his (presumably) grandchildren in Casas cosplay, keeping up the grand tradition of small children dressed as luchadores, and wore his NJPW ring jacket, because presumably nobody told him not to - finally entered the match for a blistering chop exchange with Toscano, culminating in a delightful “timber” back bump from the old man. One of the best to ever do it.

The finish came when, with the referee distracted, a mystery assailant struck Negro Casas with a baseball bat, allowing Toscano to apply the veteran’s own hold, La Casita (invented by Negro’s father Pepe Casas, erroneously better known as La Magistral, or Magistral Cradle) for the win.

The mystery man revealed himself as none other than Nicho el Millionario, the former (original) Psicosis, who continued to absolutely leather Casas with strikes, with the baseball bat, and the microphone, while cutting an empassioned promo. My Spanish is close to non-existent, so thanks to various Twitter accounts keeping track of the show for covering this one - he appears to have took out his frustrations around his CMLL run on Casas, and promised to send the old man back there.

Nicho is far, far from his prime, but if anyone can drag him to an interesting match, particularly in his hometown of Tijuana - where the next Triplemania emanates from - it’s Negro Casas. They have wrestled each other only fleetingly, never one-on-one, and all more than twenty years ago. A combination of Casas’ technical mastery and old man grit, with Nicho fully transformed into a walk-and-brawl middle-aged Luchadore, could make for a fascinating bloody brawl in classic Triplemania style, along with the still surreal and novel image of Negro Casas in a AAA ring. If both men’s hair were on the line, it could be an all-timer of the genre. But with memories of Latin Lover and Jeff Jarrett in my mind, I feel confident in saying that this will probably be the last we hear of any of it.

We move on to Guerra de Rivalidades next, the tournament running across all three Triplemaniae. Like last year’s Ruleta de la Muerte, it’s a tournament in which the losers advance - each match is between two teams of rivals, and the losers of the semi-final in Tijuana will advance to an Apuestas match in Mexico City, with masks and/or hair on the line. It’s an interesting dynamic, and a clear effort to cash-in on the success of last year’s tournament, which dragged one good and one genuinely great match out of Villano IV, and even saw the ancient Canek pull off a passable effort against Psycho Clown, but I’m not sure I’m a fan of the losers advance element being in play this year. The rationale is sound - if you can’t work with your partner, you’re at risk of losing your mask - but I think a winners advance formula carries more intrigue; do you want to take your rival’s mask/hair so badly that you can work alongside them for two matches to get there?

The first match in the tournament saw Psycho Clown team with Sam Adonis against Pentagon Jr. and Alberto El Patron. It was a match that did little with the stipulation, thanks largely to the Penta/Alberto team doing nothing to sell it - Alberto was playing baby-kissing babyface throughout, and happily posing with Pentagon before the bell, so only the Psycho/Adonis team seemed genuinely at odds with one another. The English announcers did a good job of selling that Penta and Alberto were more professional rivals, while the other team had a more personal issue, and how that sense of one-upmanship allowed them to work together more coherently, but in reality it just seemed like Alberto didn’t understand the concept of the match. That wasn’t helped by him constantly joshing with and shoving referee Tirantes who, historically, was a heel, but since his return in opposition to his son, he’s been largely neutral if not pro-babyface, and it came across like Alberto didn’t realise that. It was also difficult not to note that Marisela Pena, in the front row as always, looked anything but pleased when Alberto posed for a glad-handing photo with her.

While Alberto was nowhere near as bad as he had been at last month’s Lucha World Cup - during which he looked thoroughly washed, exhausted within seconds, and screwed up some pretty routine spots, all while looking less enthused to be there than Carlito, who never even bothered taking off his T-shirt - it’s clear that his days of superstardom are long gone, and there seems to be no will to reinvent himself, beyond the cosmetic level of entering the match in jeans and cowboy shirt, reading as yet more pandering to fans more accustomed to seeing him in a three-piece suit. The moves are the same, the schtick is the same, but the intensity is gone, the charm is gone, and whatever residual goodwill remained following the end of his first WWE run dried up years ago. Even if one can put aside Alberto’s actions outside of the ring, he has little to offer any more inside of it - his stardom is faded, his matches pedestrian. Konnan justified booking him this year by saying that it would be his final chance to redeem himself - if I were in Konnan’s shoes and saw Alberto’s performance at the World Cup, I’d think that particular clock was ticking.

Alberto and Pentagon won the match, thanks to Psycho Clown and Sam Adonis failing to work together, and spending most of the match at each other’s throats. That means the feuding team advance to the semi-finals, and Adonis losing his hair to finally end this story feels like a foregone conclusion. Penta and El Patron are now out of the tournament, freeing them up for other possibilities on future shows - perhaps a singles match between them to justify them having been presented as “rivals” in the first place, though I could happily see Alberto ride off into the sunset and miss shows two and three altogether.

Speaking of mask matches, next up we have Argenis vs. Myzteziz Jr., following up on the opening Cage match. Argenis has always been an afterthought, something of a forgotten man in Lucha, whether here in AAA or as a jobber in Lucha Underground, and the resentment of that presentation really bled into this match. Argenis is the brother of the original Myzteziz (that is to say, Mistico, or Sin Cara, or Caristico - don’t make me get the diagram out), and has been forever in his shadow. His opportunity to break out would have been taking on the Myzteziz name when AAA saw fit to hand it down to another wrestler, and he is angry that it was given to someone outside of the family, who he sees as undeserving. That story, tied into this mask match, turned what could have been a pedestrian affair into something with the vibe of a blood feud. It wasn’t the best match on the card, but it wasn’t far off. With two wrestlers who have never had much storytelling meat to get their teeth into, this became a superb example of what Lucha Libre’s all about - equal parts acrobatic feats and blood-spilling, ugly brawling. It’s a pet hate of mine to see “Lucha” used interchangeably with high-flying and flips, because there’s so much more to it than that, and for all its failings, this show serves a decent primer for what AAA’s particular brand of Lucha has to offer.

Myzteziz Jr. unmasked, but Argenis didn’t take it well - slapping his opponent after the mask, and only removing his own mask after tearing off Myzteziz’s in a brief but believable brawl. Argenis stormed out before the customary reveal of his real name and years’ experience, and had to be coaxed over to the announce table to reveal that information after the fact. It was a far cry from the usual ceremonial, respectful mask removals, and brilliant for it. It didn’t allow Myzteziz Jr. the opportunity to glory in his victory, but gave him cause for revenge, and set up Argenis as a spiteful, vindictive, and disrespectful heel force for years to come. In a company with any skill at all in long-term booking, it’s something we might look back on in years to come as a formative moment. In AAA, it will likely be forgotten by the end of the year.

Match of the night award, to nobody’s surprise, as we return to Guerra de Rivalidades for Blue Demon Jr. and DMT Azul vs. RUSH and L.A. Park.

AAA, and Triplemania in particular, have become a byword for chaotic wrestling, in the worst sense - illogical booking, poorly executed high spots, janky production values, and meme-worthy collapses of all reason - but when they get it right, they’re also the best purveyors of intentional, controlled chaos in all of professional wrestling. Rush, as he has shown time and time again in AEW, is a generational talent, a tornado of charisma that only ever feels a hair’s breadth away from resorting to unhinged violence, while Blue Demon Jr. has carved out a niche for himself as a brawling, hardscrabble veteran after years of coasting on a mask and family name. L.A. Park crosses the divide - he’s an engine of chaos in and outside of the ring, the vortex around which some of AAA’s most notorious booking snafus, undelivered promises, and insane moments swirls, but he brings the same energy to every big match, and is just unlike any other competitor - and the audience know it, erupting in cheers and chanting that outweighed any other noise across the entire show.

The combination of L.A. Park and Rush has always been a recipe for something between magic and disaster - both arch-politicians, always on the verge of going into business for themselves or pivoting to extreme violence, whether partners or opponents. This match was no exception.

The odd one out is DMT Azul; originally “Diamante Azul”, or “Blue Diamond” in CMLL, he was a clear “expy” - to borrow a phrase from terminally online fanfiction communities - for Blue Demon, a legally distinct equivalent when the real thing wasn’t on offer. Since jumping ship to AAA, and on the independent circuit, that similarity has fueled his feud with Blue Demon Jr. It was an odd choice by Azul, then, to not wear his usual blue mask and gear for this show, resplendent instead in gold, nullifying much of the point of their whole feud.

Even so, by more than holding his own in a match with these participants, this served as something of a coming out party for Azul, and rightfully so, a heavyweight luchadore of the first class, he never looked out of place mixing it up with the big boys.

The match was chaos of the best sort - partners fought partners, and the rivals gimmick coloured every second of the match, no teamwork or temporary truce here, and nothing like the rather conventional tag team structure of the Psycho Clown match. This was a mask-ripping, blood-letting, weapon swinging masterpiece, echoing some of Park’s bloodiest and best matches of the early ‘00s as his mask lay torn in town, hanging limp around his face, and Blue Demon Jr. bled profusely over his opponents, the ring, tables, and everything in-between, echoing his bloodbath against Dr. Wagner Jr.

It’s not an L.A. Park booking without his sons coming along for the ride, and the brilliant El Hijo de L.A. Park got a showing in the opening cage match, in his excellent Skeletor-inspired gear. The failson, L.A. Park Jr., was reduced to a brief run-in during this match, which also saw an appearance from Rush’s father, Bestia del Ring - as ever, Lucha Libre is at its best when it’s a family affair.

AAA booking is often mocked as nonsensical, over-egged, and convoluted beyond belief, but even some of its most hated moments I find myself drawn to, and jotted down in my notebook of future booking ideas for any shows that might deign to allow me some time with the pencil. The finish to this match was little exception, an exercise in how to end a match involving multiple wrestlers notoriously shy of getting pinned. After Rush knocked down the referee, L.A. Park hit him with a spectacular low blow, and dragged Blue Demon Jr on top of him for the cover, costing his own team the match, but moving them one step closer to a Mask vs. Hair blow-off in Mexico City.

The main event was a Four-Way, pitting Mega Champion El Hijo del Vikingo against Komander, Rich Swann and Swerve Strickland. Vikingo is, of course, a mind-blowing talent on the crest of an incredible wave of momentum unlikely any seen in a long time, and AAA would be right to capitalise on that while they still can. It’s worth mentioning here that, at least online, there is still precisely zero official Vikingo merchandise on the market, even after his headline-setting match with Kenny Omega in AEW, his show-stealer with Komander in ROH, a run of standout Wrestlemania weekend performances, and more than four months as Mega Champion. For the primary champion of a major promotion to be so under-supported should be unthinkable.

And therein lies the rub. AAA and Konnan are clearly high on Vikingo, but his title reign has been largely an afterthought, brought on by Kenny Omega’s wishes for a match against Vikingo while the young luchadore was still largely on opening match scramble duty. He has taken to his role representing AAA with aplomb, but his booking hasn’t reflected that - he plays second fiddle to older luchadores, or finds himself in spotfest multi-man matches only distinguishable from his pre-champion career by their place on the card. Komander, placed here as a result of picking up steam in the United States, is following the same path - plucked from opening match obscurity to the main event with nothing in-between.

And that’s because Vikingo’s matches largely aren’t for the live audience, or for the Mexican audience at all. They are an exercise in furthering AAA’s international ambitions, by creating more GIFs and highlights to go viral on social media as they surely will - whereas Komander’s rope work and dives are undeniably spectacular, Vikingo pulls off feats of athleticism, strength, balance and high-flying in every single match that never cease to amaze, but he ties them together with strong strikes, believable selling, and solid fundamentals, and he’s just a cut above the man he’s increasingly finding himself compared to. Throw in his lack of mask, youth, strong look and, let’s face it, downright handsome features, and Vikingo is a megastar in the making, and will be that megastar as much in spite of AAA as because of them.

AAA’s fans are crying out for a genuinely big Vikingo match - they want the Omega rematch, they want Kota Ibushi, or they want the top flight stars of AEW. With all due respect to Shane Strickland and Rich Swann, this was not that match and, as has become routine for Vikingo’s multi-man title defences, it suffered for going in cold with no story, having to follow a heated brawl with years of story and audience investment underpinning it.

Vikingo won, of course, and was presented with a new title belt and an endorsement from Konnan. These are all important steps on the road to cementing him as the face of the company, but that they’re coming four months into a title reign feels backwards.

What Vikingo needs is a defining rivalry, a blood feud. Not the showy oneupmanship of his matches with Komander, Laredo KId or Fenix, but something with real meat on the bones. Rey Misterio Jr. needed Psicosis, and AAA have yet to find Vikingo his Psicosis. If they don’t, somebody else will.

Little, if anything, is set in stone for the subsequent Triplemania shows. We know that Sam Adonis & Psycho Clown will face L.A. Park and Rush in Tijuana, and the likely outcome is Psycho Clown vs. Sam Adonis - a worthy big match for Triplemania in Mexico City, but underwhelming when faced with the alternatives; this show left us wanting more of L.A. Park vs. Rush, and they run the risk of not delivering.

Other matches have been suggested or teased - Pentagon Jr. vs. Alberto El Patron, Negro Casas vs. Nicho el Millionaro, a rematch for Argenis and Myzteziz Jr., and still an eventual mask match for DMT Azul and Blue Demon Jr, who had his face exposed by Azul following their match. Whether AAA see fit to deliver on any of those matches remains to be seen.

What is clear, though, is that El Hijo del Vikingo is not in those plans. Which means another go-round of fans hoping and praying for matches far bigger than what AAA are likely to deliver for their champion. It means another big show where the draw of “see El Hijo del Vikingo wrestle” has to compete with being able to see El Hijo del Vikingo wrestle on AEW or ROH TV, on GCW shows, or elsewhere. Vikingo is spectacular, but he cannot continue to exist in a vacuum - sooner or later, his matches need to be sold on the strength of his opponents at least as much as on his own ability.

Recently, Konnan has publicly said that both he and Rey Mysterio have told Vikingo of the need to slow things down and simplify his style, not going to the high-risk well too option. But as booker of AAA, Konnan needs to shoulder much of the blame for the way Vikingo approaches his big matches - they are matches sold on the promise of spectacular high spots and daredevil dives, not on the story behind them, or on the suggestion of a competitive contest. If the marketing for Vikingo continues to treat him as nothing more than a GIF delivery method, he has no choice but to have to consistently one-up his last big move in every match. He deserves better.