"Lets hear it for the jobber," Ringkid, 5'6", 140#, complained to me yesterday, stinging after I called him a "poor dope" while praising Mike Martin to the skies.

I shot back, "Don't take the 'poor dope' comment too seriously--obviously I would have happily traded places with you every second of that match--there are worse things I can imagine than having my ass owned by Mike Martin."   In fact, I can't imagine too many things better than.  Then, feeling full of myself a bit, I added, "Of course, if you prefer to take offense, I'd be happy to take it out with you on the mats one day, my friend ..."  (For the record, in one week I turn 57 and I'm not in fighting shape, but I still think I could take Ringkid's sorry ass in a fight--and, uh hm, if you could see my face, you'd notice an arrogant smirk curling the edge of my mouth ... I'm just asking for it.)

Originally "jobbers" meant losers, more specifically, frequent losers.  They were the guys just asking for it ... again and again and again.  I prefer to think of a jobber as the guy who makes the star look good.  Ringkid certainly did that for Martin.  A star can put all the leglocks he likes on another wrestler, but if that wrestler does not groan, grimace, and thrash about, the star might as well be grappling a bale of hay.  It's the jobber who "sells" the moves and holds, makes them convincing, acts out the onlookers' fantasies of what it must feel like to be at the mercy of the star's indomitable muscle and fighting skills.

And Ringkid was not always the jobber over at Bulldog Wrestling UK.  Later he turned heel and developed so much 'tude that BW-UK dedicated an entire Battling Bulldogs number (15) just to try and take him down a notch or two.

This morning I heard from Ringkid again:  "Wrestling Mike was hot....but when you are in front of camera its difficult to remember all the details."  Fortunately, the Kid left us a record of the details.  Exactly how hot it is to wrestle Mike is crystal clear every time Ringkid grunts, gasps for air, thrusts his body up after Martin slams it down, slaps his boots to the mat, winces when his gut gets punched, and wails as Martin stretches, pulls, twists, and squeezes.

Watch the video again, but this time keep your eyes on the guy in baby blue--watch what he's doing, and then let's hear it for the jobber!


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