Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Who hasn't dreamed this? You're a buff tatted-up young turk at the gym, and you cannot keep your eyes off this really stacked muscle god working the free weights, a man bigger than you by about a third your size. Without his shirt on, the guy looks like Hercules--or the way you always dreamed that Hercules would look. You shower. You go home. The crap on TV is putting you to sleep. Then, knock knock knock at the door. Lo and behold the muscle god has followed you home ... and he's pissed about your ogling at him at the gym ... and he wants to fight you ... in your empty two-car garage ... and he's Ace Hanson!
This is where I usually wake up from the dream, cursing and wiping the drool off my lip. But after our interview on this blog a month ago, I am thisclose with Mr. Mike of Thunder's Arena, and Ace is now practically family. So I'm watching this little gem to the finish, savoring every thump and grunt. And while I am not the biggest fan of squash jobs--in which there's one guy who doesn't stand a chance against the other--I have to admit that this match between Hanson, 6'0", 220#, and Angel, 5'5", 135#, wins me over and pretty well stands as a classic of the form.
It's a custom-built video (Thunder's first ever, scripted and cast by a fan ... no, not me), and it could serve as Exhibit A in the courtroom drama of what sick fucks we wrestling fans can be. Not for a second do you buy that Angel can take Ace, there's even a question of whether he can survive the fight, but it is fun to watch the big guy dismantle the little guy piece by piece, first by chopping off his pride and then by squeezing out his will with his bare hands. Ace has got as much muscle in his buns of steel as poor Angel has in his whole well-built but compact body. Angel is pretty much a "travel-size" opponent for Ace, easily packed and stowed in the overflow bin till Ace needs somebody to smash to smithereens. I'll say this much for Angel: he's a tough bastard, and he takes his licking like a man.
This is a juicy little masterpiece. Like all Thunder's Arena product, it stays safely on the G side of a PG rating, but its pleasures rest as much in seeing Angel's heavenly torso stretched out in a light coating of sweat and shown off to the camera as in catching your breath every time Ace Hanson's beauteous massiveness rises like a tropical thunderhead or a radioactive Japanese lizard to fill the screen.