This week marks the 25th anniversary of one of sporting history’s most bizarre events, ‘Collision in Korea’ – North Korea’s curious foray into American professional wrestling, which remarkably still holds the record for the world’s largest pro wrestling attendance ever.

Two decades before basketball star Dennis Rodman would make headlines with his attempts at ‘basketball diplomacy’ with North Korea, boxing legend Muhammad Ali led another sports diplomacy mission there to promote peace between the country and its adversaries, the United States and Japan.

Ali was accompanied by a group of Japanese and American wrestlers, the latter including Ric Flair (who signed up after Hulk Hogan declined), Scott Norton, Road Warrior Hawk, 2 Cold Scorpio, and the Steiner Brothers.

They were invited to take part in the Pyongyang International Sports and Culture Festival for Peace, which culminated in a two-night wrestling extravaganza on 28 and 29 April 1995.

Billed as “Collision in Korea” when the bouts were later broadcast on pay-per-view television in the United States, the event was a bizarre and highly memorable juxtaposition of spandex and communism.

“I think the title sums it up,” says Nicholas Bonner, co-founder and director of Koryo Tours, who was at Pyongyang’s May Day Stadium to watch the event.

“It was a collision of cultures, the North Korean audience not really having a clue how to react to the actual live event. This was not a typical Pyongyang celebration with parades and dance.”

The majority of these bewildered spectators are thought to have been ordered by their government to attend. Mostly drably dressed men in suits and ties, they sat motionless throughout, in stark contrast to the spectacle of flamboyant costumes and wild combat theatrics unfolding before them.

This peculiar display of American capitalist culture transplanted to a communist North Korean setting was also notable for its huge attendance figures.

May Day Stadium, the world’s largest stadium, was packed to the rafters. The bouts were reportedly watched by a record-breaking 150,000 spectators on the first night and 190,000 on the second (for perspective, New York’s Yankee Stadium has a capacity of 50,291, while London’s Wembley Stadium can accommodate 90,000) – smashing the 1987 record of 93,173 set by the World Wrestling Federation’s WrestleMania III in Michigan.

Yet despite the crowd’s unprecedented size, the atmosphere in the stadium was uncannily subdued.

“The event was silent. The Koreans didn’t know how to react – was it real or fake?” Bonner says. “If it was real, some were petrified that they were going to witness a death at the rate the wrestlers were being pounced on and kicked.

“It was one of the most unique pro wrestling events ever – there was never anything like it before, and there’s never been anything like it since.”

“About halfway through the event most understood it was not ‘real fighting’, but as with most events there, the audience remained quiet – the odd applause, but certainly no shouting out. For the television recording of the event abroad they put on a music soundtrack and dubbed in a delighted screaming audience.”

Dave Meltzer, sports historian and editor of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, was also struck by the atypical pro wrestling audience when he first saw footage of the event: “I thought it was interesting because the spectators obviously had no idea what they were watching whatsoever, and so you’re watching and they’re not reacting to much.”

However, that changed when the event reached its climax with the headline bout between Ric Flair and Japanese wrestler-turned-politician Antonio Inoki – the closest of all the wrestlers to a home-grown hero for the North Koreans.

“Inoki and Flair went out there, and Ric Flair put on this show,” says Meltzer. “And it was like, ‘My God,’ Ric Flair can take this crowd that knows nothing about wrestling and get them going. It was really a testament to how great Ric Flair was.”

Inoki gained the upper hand initially, but then the American staged an impressive comeback and began dominating the match. In the end though, Inoki turned the tables on Flair and beat his opponent.

It was a display that finally brought the North Koreans in the stadium to their feet, the symbolism of Flair’s defeat at the hands of Inoki clearly resonating with an audience conditioned by decades of propaganda denouncing American imperialism.

As if North Korea staging a pro wrestling event featuring American wrestlers isn’t interesting enough in and of itself, additional interest can be found in the story behind how the event came about and how Ali became involved.

The event was the brainchild of Inoki, who spent a year and a half organizing it. He was able to leverage his having formerly been a protégé of the late Rikidōzan to gain North Korea’s trust (Rikidōzan, a North Korean-born wrestler who concealed his nationality and became a Japanese national hero when pro wrestling mania gripped Japan in the 1950s, reputedly counted Kim Il Sung among his fans).

“Inoki’s always tried to be a liaison for relations between North Korea and Japan,” explains Meltzer. “In Japan, North Korea’s definitely considered the major enemy, and so this is one of the things that he did working with the North Korean government to try to facilitate a relationship.”

Inoki was also the reason why Ali was selected as Collision in Korea’s guest of honor. Inoki and Ali had formed an unlikely friendship after facing each other in another bizarre sporting event, their infamous 1976 boxer-versus-wrestler match staged in Tokyo.

The bout proved controversial, with spectators outraged at the lack of actual fighting that took place. Ali managed to throw only six punches over 15 rounds as Inoki spent most of the match lying on the canvas, repeatedly kicking the boxer’s legs. Inoki landed a total of 107 kicks, injuring Ali so badly that the boxer developed blood clots that nearly required a leg amputation.

Surprisingly, the pair subsequently became friends. Both men shared a desire to unite people of different beliefs and cultures through sport, which explains their motivation to participate in Collision in Korea.

Inoki founded the Sports and Peace Party in 1989 and was elected to the upper house of the Japanese government. At the same time, he continued his wrestling career.

However, by 1995 he was embroiled in political scandal that threatened his re-election prospects. Brokering better Japan-North Korea relations was therefore also an opportunity for Inoki to improve his image ahead of elections scheduled for June that year.

The North Korean government stood to gain significantly from the event too, says Meltzer, enhancing its appearance both domestically and internationally. “For them it was a propaganda thing, where they were looking for celebrities to come from the United States. Like Ali, he was obviously the big one, and other pro wrestling celebrities.

“They were looking for that and looking for the worldwide publicity in staging this incredible event.”

At the time Collision in Korea took place, the event appeared to suggest a potential opening up of North Korea to the outside world that unfortunately failed to eventuate in the years that followed.

“It was a one-off event,” explains Bonner, “A little like the New York Philharmonic concert in Pyongyang in 2008. Perhaps it could have heralded change, but sadly the follow-up from either side was not taken.”

Nor did Collision in Korea lead to pro wrestling becoming popular in North Korea, although Inoki would stage another event there years later, Bonner says. “Wrestling is taken seriously in North Korea as a sport, but not the showboating professional style as was performed at Collision in Korea.

“In 2014, during a thaw in relations between Japan and North Korea, another pro wrestling bout was put on – again confusing a new generation of Koreans, as still only traditional wrestling is shown on TV.”

In terms of the event’s impact on the world of pro wrestling, Collision in Korea has a mixed legacy.

“I can’t say it left a big mark in a sense,” Meltzer argues. “I mean, people were aware of it at the time, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Generating disappointing sales when it aired on pay-per-view, Collision in Korea subsequently faded into relative obscurity.

However, the event’s record-breaking attendance figures — the two largest crowds ever to watch pro wrestling anywhere in the world — remain a significant legacy.

Plus, as Meltzer says, “It was one of the most unique pro wrestling events ever – there was never anything like it before, and there’s never been anything like it since.”

Edited by James Fretwell and Oliver Hotham