Scene 1: Diesel, 5'7", 200#, catches young Jackson, 5'8", 170#, snacking on some sandwiches Diesel was saving for himself. Scene 2: What else can you do about a situation like this, except take to the mats and wrestle? Diesel returns to the Arena after a year's absence to show off his tremendous upper-body strength yet again, no less awe-inspiring now after twelve months away from the likes of Z-Man and Big Sexy, especially as he twists and ties Jackson like a balloon-modeler, all the while dangling the boy in midair.
Jackson looks like one of those juvie-delinquents-slash-Greek-gods from the 8-mm wrestling films from AMG, circa 1960. He'd look right at home in a ripped T-shirt with a pack of Luckies rolled up in the sleeve. And he's every bit a mischief-maker like the tireless kid brothers in those AMG stories of sibling rivalry. Nothing Diesel throws at him--and the big dude throws a lot!--seems to faze the young stud.
Basically, we get a lot of huffing and puffing out of Diesel, while Jackson shoots one-liners left and right, prompting his testy tormentor to wrap him up in a camel clutch and strike back with a zinger of his own: "Say something cute NOW!" Jackson (one part Rusty Stevens, one part Guy Pearce) proves to be the smart-ass of my dreams when he chomps down on Diesel's Achilles' tendon to escape from an especially strenuous Boston crab hold.
In protoypical Thunder's style, it's all in a good fun--horseplay of the beautiful and well endowed in central Florida's bright, clean sunshine. But this match is more than a light snack. The moves are as big as the wrestlers' iron-cast muscles--and while the tone remains frolicsome (on Jackson's part, anyway) these guys pump out the sweat and put on a heck of a good show.