During the part of the 1980s when I did not have a boyfriend who liked to wrestle--somewhere north of the 90 percent mark for the decade--my goto guy for wrestling fantasies was, of course, "Golden Warrior" Kevin Von Erich, but my next best bet was South African light heavyweight Steve Simpson.
Sporting curly hair perched somewhere between Roger Daltry's mane in Tommy (1975) and Glenn Close's aint-I-a-crazy-bitch? hairdo in Fatal Attraction (1987), Simpson was my number-one choice for jungle-boy wrestling fantasies between 1986 and 1987.
This was back in the days when wrestlers commonly wrestled each other to the mat for slow, grinding headlocks and scissorholds. Like Kevin, Steve knew his way around a tight turnbuckle squeeze, too.
His long, heavy-lidded joli laid face was not a particular draw for me, but it grew on me. His tan torso reminded me of my first real-life infatuation, of the previous decade, a straight football player in South Florida, who nevertheless liked to strip down to undies and wrestle about two or three times a week.
Simpson was welcomed to the WCCW with a great deal of hoopla, but the promotion went belly up at the decade's end. I heard somewhere that, after a trip back to South Africa, Simpson wound up back in Texas, where he runs a chain of mattress stores with his brother.
(All caps from recent YouTube posts by sportjockma.)