Jerry Blackwell vs. Ken the Box.

I thought Blackwell would have scouted the Bundy match and just flattened the Box but no. Blackwell has a tendency to get spotty and throw bombs, but this was a deeply psychological anti-workrate character study.
This masterpiece of deep psychology began with Ken sitting down and folding his bottom flaps underneath him like a sympathetic psychoanalyst or coy lover. Blackwell decides to go the mat with him and while Jerry is technically capable, nobody is going to mistake him for Volk Han or even Dory Funk. After some ineffective attempts at a headlock, Crusher backs off and frustrated, starts crying. Not Shawn Michaels "I just gave the performance of a lifetime at Wrestlemania now lets weep during the encore" tears, more Elizabeth "Macho Man is scaring the shit out of me, please Gene, don't be mean, just help me" tears. Ken holds out a hand and Jerry takes is, not like a "respect is earned" handshake, but like a man who is tired of his body issues and just wants to get well.
They sit quietly for a while, enjoying a tender moment of healing. Some more tears flow, of course, and Ken weeps blood which stains his face. The crowd is respectful through it all, with nary a "you fucked up you fat fuck" chant to be heard. You see, these were the days when the audience didn't feel as though they had to influence the proceedings in the ring. The crowd knew the show was for them, but they were not the show themselves. So their silence added to the catharsis; if Blackwell wasn't literally shedding pounds in front of our eyes, he was shedding years of guilt heaped upon him by the West's conception of male physical fitness and attractiveness.
What is unique about Ken is that being Japanese, and being a box made from a tree, is that he is neither burdened by Western cultural conceptions nor even human. Therefore he was able to free, if only for a soaring and weightless moment, Crusher Blackwell from the burden of self and make him someone new.