Editor’s Note: Jack Talos first reached out to Slamwrestling.net months ago and informed us he would be doing a tour for the All-Japan Pro Wrestling promotion. After taking some time off, he returns for more adventures on his second tour in the Land of the Rising Sun for more True Tall Tales of Talos.
Per Talos’ request, certain names have been changed to protect their anonymity. Plus, who are we to argue with a seven-foot giant?
By Jack Talos – For Slam! Wrestling
Beers, Bears and Body Slams — THE HOKKAIDO DYNAMITE SERIES
The second I touched back down in Japan, the fuse was already lit. My reunion with Ayabe-san inside the storied walls of Korakuen Hall had gone off like a powder keg, and now the real campaign was beginning: AJPW’s HOKKAIDO DYNAMITE SERIES. This run would drag us through the rugged wilds of Japan’s northern frontier, where the air bites harder than any heel and the arenas feel like they’re perched on the edge of the world.
Before the chop lines and suplexes came the first real trial: a domestic flight. Now, I’m not new to airplanes, but let’s be honest — Japanese carriers weren’t built with a seven-foot monster in mind. I’ve learned to fold myself like an origami figure when necessary, but this was a new level of compression. If someone had rolled me down the aisle like a sleeping bag, I wouldn’t have protested. Somehow, I lived — knees intact, spirit mostly unbroken — and suddenly, there it was: Hakodate.
(Editor’s Note: Hakodate is a port city and the capital of the Oshima subprefecture in Hokkaido, Japan.)
The moment we stepped out of the airport, two things slapped me across the face harder than a Stan Hansen lariat — space and cold. Tokyo feels like it’s breathing down your neck everywhere you go.
Hokkaido? It inhales like a glacier and exhales forever. Wide stretches of open land and coastline that look like they were painted by a deity with a superiority complex, and mountains that stare back at you like they’re judging your cardio.
And the temperature? Brutal. I’d packed like a man visiting a chilly city. I should’ve packed like I was trekking through the Himalayas—rookie mistake.
The tour ran eight shows deep — kicking off in Hokuto City on October 26th and closing November 3rd in Sapporo — and everyone gave me the same commandments upon arrival:
- Eat the lamb.
- Eat the seafood.
- Watch for bears.
- Drink the beer.
And believe me, I followed all four like scripture. Hokkaido’s lamb tasted like it knew it was destined for greatness. The seafood was so fresh it felt like it had a pulse. Oyster sashimi became my love language. And then there was the beer — specifically, the hometown pride: Sapporo.
Let me be crystal clear — drinking Sapporo in Sapporo hits different. It’s cold enough to match the weather, crisp enough to cut through the fatigue, and smooth enough to make you forget you can’t feel your extremities. There’s a reason the can looks like something an emperor would drink out of. After matches, after buses, after dodging frostbite — that beer became the unofficial tag partner of the tour. It didn’t take bumps, but it damn sure took the edge off.
As for the bear warning…yeah.
Apparently, attacks have been on the rise in Hokkaido. This explained the ominous signage scattered across the region. I only saw one bear the entire time.
Granted, it was inside a wrestling ring. It was possibly a panda, and Ayabe and I ended up throwing hands with it.
Folks, this wasn’t a metaphor. We fought a bear. I didn’t ask for the booking — I just clocked in.
The scenery? Unreal. Cinematic coastlines. Valleys carved like fantasy maps. Mountains that make you reconsider your life choices. But none of that majesty mattered when snow started falling on day three. A seven-foot man can only layer so much clothing before he starts resembling an improperly packed parachute. By day five, I was wearing enough fabric to be declared a controlled substance.
The matches were a highlight reel: a triple threat with my old friend Jiro, fighting a panda bear with Ayabe, and crowds that greeted us like returning war heroes. Yet the moment etched in stone came on the final night in Sapporo.
It was Yuma Aoyagi’s birthday, and we decided to honor it as only wrestlers can — with sentiment wrapped in violence. After disposing of Yuma’s partner, Ayabe and I got the crowd to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ with us as we lifted Yuma by the throat like a human karaoke stand. On the high note, we gave him the kind of chokeslam that’ll make his grandchildren twitch.
A celebration worthy of a champion.
Hokkaido wasn’t just a tour. It was a test of durability, appetite, and insulation. The land, the people, the food — and yes, the beer — made it unforgettable.
I came in as a wrestler; I left as a man who knows that survival tastes best when it’s washed down with a Sapporo brewed ten minutes from where you powerbomb your coworkers.
