First interview ever on this blog was the summer of 2009, chatting up UCW-Wrestling's Axel and Michael. Back then the two promised never to hold back, and they've made good on their promise. UCW takes its "underground" status seriously. Fights occur on the same ill-appointed and decidedly unsafe-looking "set" the promotion has occupied since its startup. The fighters are lean, hungry, and ready for anything. They're not big on narrative. The fighters play their roles close to who they really are. With the exception of Joker, who is just flat-out crazy, the wrestlers suck at wisecracks and shit talk. The boys like to hit each other hard, and they can take a hammer to the gut like it's just another job they have to punch the clock for. The boys are pragmatic. It didn't take them long to figure out the magic formula--be young and reckless and wear tee-tiny briefs that get yanked just as much as their scruffy hair does. If they can think of something they haven't done before and there's a good chance it will hurt, they do it. Some guys.
These shots come from a "lost" video (#140) released a couple of months ago, in which Axel and Klown, the company's best-looking roughnecks, go at it toe to toe. It's a rematch: the two fought first two years ago. When this bout was shot, Axel was still the reigning UCW champ. There are no rounds. No rules. No ref. No backstory. Just a full 50 minutes of nonstop rough play between two equally fit, comparably proportioned guys who decide to find out which one of them can "take the most." For kicks. These guys like pain. And they know pain. How to make it, how to serve it, how to chug it down. UCW is like a microbrewery of pain. It's like a scaled down mom-and-pop version of the Roman Coliseum. And Axel, whose mouth almost visibly waters at the word "fight," and Klown, who paces the mat like a panther yearning to pounce, are two low-rent gladiators who will take it in the nuts just to entertain us sick fucks who can't get enough of it.