The Time Stan Hansen Tried to Murder Poor Terry Funk
Blood coated Stan Hansen—and not in the usual way we’ve come to expect from a pro wrestling match. No, this was something more visceral, more real. There was no mere trickle of claret from the forehead.
His body was covered with it.
So were his fists.
The blood, of course, didn’t belong to Hansen. It was Terry Funk’s, product of a horrific beating, a drubbing so scary that the Japanese fans pushed closer and closer to the ring, scared not that their beloved Terry would lose a match—no, they were afraid he might lose his life.
Hansen is one of the great wrestlers of my lifetime, an absolute brute with an utter disregard for his opponents. Every thing he does, even the most basic knee drop or stomp, is given that little extra. Frankly, as nice as he is outside the ring, inside the three ropes he’s a real son-of-a-bitch, a guy who isn’t afraid to sacrifice an opponent’s well-being for the sake of the match. It looks like wrestling him is no fun at all, an exercise in sadomasochism that might not necessarily be consensual.
To me, that’s the ultimate compliment, for a pro wrestler at least.
With respect, however, this is not his match, no matter how convincing the beating was. This was the Funk show, a bravura display of desperate selling, cleverly timed explosions of offense and a willingness to risk everything to draw the audience into the show on a pure, emotional level.
This was almost, almost a glorified squash. Hansen is so strong, Funk so vulnerable, that it appears at times to be a mismatch. But there’s genuine terror on Stan’s face every time Funk attempts his deadly spinning toehold. Hansen had his number here—but there was always the chance Funk might pull off yet another miracle.
Terry’s power is on display in the way Hansen feels compelled to beat on him. It’s as if he decided the only way to win was literal murder, then went balls out to make that happen. If that’s not a tribute to Funk, I don’t know what is. He’s an opponent that demands your vile, despicable worst.
Hansen has described his battles with Funk as “act and react” matches. Neither really knew exactly what the other was going to do. Instead, they just responded, both to each other and the crowd.
There was a lot going on in these early battles between the Funks, All Japan’s reigning gaijin mainstays, and Hansen, the big free agent poaching from rival New Japan. The Funk family had broken Stan into the business in the 1970’s, opening up the world to yet another West Texas State ballplayer. But Hansen had, very early on, gone his own way, creating some tension between him and Amarillo’s first family.
Though Funk had been the one to reach out on Giant Baba’s behalf, he couldn’t have been completely comfortable with the move. After all, in some ways he was recruiting his own potential replacement. After years as the top American acts in All Japan, Baba was thinking of going another direction. But it wasn’t a spot you could simply hand off. Hansen had to earn the requisite respect, both from the wrestlers and the fans.
In his book, The Last Outlaw, he described what was a very tumultuous time in the history of Japanese wrestling, with two rival companies fighting desperately for an advantage over the other:
I think Baba realized that in order for All Japan to survive, he needed to promote himself and Jumbo (Tsuruta) into the top position…I also believe that at that time, no matter how badly Baba wanted himself or Jumbo to be the center of their business, the Funks held that position and, in particular, Terry Funk.
…A match between Terry Funk and me seemed to be a natural…although we both had a wild fighting style, our styles were unique to each of us. Terry was a super babyface in Japan, and at the peak of his popularity in the early 1980s, he was over more than just about anyone, including the Japanese. He developed his character during his time there. He fought hard, bled a lot, and even though he sold strongly for his opponents, he never died.
Hansen certainly put that to the test in this match, even hanging Terry over the top rope, causing visible distress to fans ringside and eventually necessitating a run-in from Dory Funk Jr to prevent a literal murder right there at the Osaka Prefectural Gymnasium. The two men were battling, not just in a match, but for both position in the promotional hierarchy and in the eyes of the fans.
“That is where real competition comes into play in professional wrestling matches,” Hansen wrote. “…In our eyes the stakes were huge.”
Most of the time the impact of wrestling matches is fleeting, easily digestible popcorn entertainment that isn’t intended to withstand the test of time.
But this was different. The image of Funk, eyes bulging, blood dripping, as he hung helplessly in front of his fans, is truly powerful and lasting. This was violence in pure, uncut form—and one of the great spectacles in the history of wrestling.
Jonathan Snowden is a long-time combat sports journalist. His books include Total MMA, Shooters and Shamrock: The World’s Most Dangerous Man. His work has appeared in USA Today, Bleacher Report, Fox Sports and The Ringer. Subscribe to this newsletter to keep up with his latest work.
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