Okay, the only reason Can-Am's Wyld Child, 6'0", 170#, was ever a "guilty" pleasure for me was his eighties-era big hair.  Long hair I can deal with, but that gawd-awful do--like a fucking tiara!  Thankfully, a few minutes of oil wrestling was all it took to collapse the mousse and transform him into the jungle boy of my dreams.

Like many of my wrestling obsessions, Wyld Child's star burned brightly and briefly and then disappeared all too soon, his youth and beauty captured forever-ish on lo-def VHS tape, in recent years transferred to DVD.

Compared to the Hokusai wave atop his forehead, his ex-child-star face posed only minor challenges to my self-esteem as a slavering fan--and by "ex-child star," I mean specifically Danny Pintauro of Who's the Boss? fame--in part because that face deserved every bit of idolatry I could heap upon it.  

And his body was a treasure.  Covered with baby oil, his muscles shone like Christmas lights.  His thighs and triceps especially were treats to the eye.  And he wrestled as well as anybody could possibly manage on a slicked-up tarp, kicking John St James's butt over and over in 1993's Canadian Musclehunk Oil Wrestling 4 (one of the certifiable classics of homo kink combat).


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