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Who needs fantasies when reality shows up with just what you'd wish for? It wasn't long ago that my dream match was to see Eli Black and Joey Cantrell face off, one on one, at UCW-Wrestling. With reports that Joey is exiting UCW and with Eli stretching himself out among multiple underground wrestling companies, as well as a promising career in MMA, I wasn't sure I'd ever get to see the day.Just this week, UCW posted that match. I couldn't have written the story better myself. Call me a happy man. 

The idea of two skinny white boys with tattoos and bad reputations squaring off in a padded cell is on my top five list of kink-erotic scenarios for 2012. And if there are two wrestlers in the world who match my ideal of skinny white boys with tattoos and reputations, it's Eli and Joey. What's more, the blue-tarped hole that is UCW's default fight space is a perfect setting for these two bad-asses to slap, slug, and stomp each other senseless in skimpy gear that only almost covers their junk. 

Eli and Joey skip the usual I-don't-know-who-you-are preliminaries, fully acknowledging that they know each other by reputation and, by implication, respect what they have heard. They meet as equals, but equals who are eager to knock each other down a peg or two. They slap hands, toss aside their baseball caps, and get busy. On his home turf, Joey gains an early lead, pushing Eli immediately to the wall. Pushed against a wall, Eli does what he knows to do, throwing a wild unpulled punch that clips Joey's ears back. "Okay," says Joey, flatly and warily. Now both guys know the score: nothing phony, playing for keeps.

Next, Joey gets Eli in a front headlock, poised for a takedown. Eli speaks from deep in Joey's armpit, "I know a move from here too." "Yeah?" Joey replies, stopping in place, curious. "Yeah, I do," says Eli matter-of-factly. "Try." "You sure?" "Try it out." Eli boxes Joey's balls but good, and Joey, moaning like an old man, collapses to the mat, with Eli on top. (The idea that cranking a guy's cock and balls would ever be a jag in my fighting kink had never occurred to me, until the past six months or so of watching UCW videos settled the matter for me.) We're not even two minutes into the fight, and the stage is set for a real bruiser.

I like both these guys a lot. Part of the excitement of this fight for me is not knowing whom to cheer for. We've got a couple of dominant heels here, both of whom know what it's like to be on the receiving end, too. Pro wrestling tends to do a lot of the deciding for you. (Or tries to: I still cheer for Mike Bennett at ROH, even though my friend Elizabeth says that the running commentary makes it almost impossible to do so. And ROH doesn't cue its fans nearly as much as other promotions do.) It's nice to see a couple of hot bloods like Eli and Joey "color outside the lines," so to speak, getting down and dirty and refusing all limits. It's risky, of course, but both these guys know what they're doing.

Joey has a size and weight advantage (about six inches and 35 pounds) that's difficult to ignore, and he's not shy about using it, nor should he be. Eli can take care of himself. Joey dominates Eli for a good part of the match, though Eli makes it hard (and painful) to do so. This is not going to be a typical David-and-Goliath match, where Goliath cries crocodile tears for the fans, pretending helplessness against a wrestler half his size. Like the best short fighters, Eli doesn't ask his opponent to do anything but show him the best he's got. But don't come here expecting a clean squash, either. Eli is scary intense, and he knows his way around a scrap.

I have a bad habit of throwing around superlatives sometimes, but, believe me, I've meant every one of them. If this fight is not the best fight UCW has ever put out for us fans, it is most definitely in the top three. I'm inclined to go with "best ever" at the moment, my memory failing to come up with a serious objection to it. An hour or so after watching this historic bout twice, my cock is still making little doglike whimpers and my balls are tight as two little fists, tucked up in my boxers like steel pinballs, and, no lie, I can't wait to press the Play button one more time.

Images edited on request (17 Feb. 2014)