PeeWee may be the first Thunder's Arena wrestler ever to request his opponent to bearhug him. This happened in Auditions Video Series Part 7, in PeeWee's debut match, and remains for me one of the sweetest yet ambiguously disconcerting moments in the Arena's history. In No Holds Barred 21, his irrepressible delight in "bumping and grinding" (his term for "wrestling," as he explains) proves frustrating for Bulldog. How do you beat an opponent who not only survives your stiffest maneuvers but positively thrives on them, translating your every move into one more opportunity to worship your muscles and inhale the scent of your bodywash, up close and tight? In recalling his defeat last fall, PeeWee gushes over his opponent's chiseled physique and manly mastery, fondly remembering how the wrestler made him "feel at one with the mat!"
For his part, Bulldog humors his opponent's eccentricities (rather sweetly), perhaps thinking the guy has seen Band of Brothers one too many times. He's doing the wrestling gig "for the money," he tells PeeWee, and while intent on winning--and flabbergasted at how a man could enjoy having his balls yanked and twisted--by the match's end he too is taking special requests from his opponent, agreeing to rest his bare foot on PeeWee's chest just so the recruit (now at the end of his trial period) can gaze up at his glistening pecs and bulging lats. NHB21 may be the only wrestling match in history won by the victor's making his opponent fall into a swoon over a double bicep pose!
At the start of the year PeeWee resolved that 2012 would be the year he turned the tables on wrestlers like Cage and Mario. It would be "PeeWee's Revenge," he said. Unless I missed something (and admittedly I have not yet seen everything at Thunder's Arena), he's been about as successful in his resolutions as I usually am. Part of the situation in NHB21 is, in fact, an expressed threat that, if he doesn't start winning some matches, his stint at the Arena will soon be kaput. But the man most definitely has bulked up, to astounding dimensions. He attributes his new mass to drinking his sister's milk (um, uh no, hmm). He looks considerably bigger than Bulldog now, though a more acquiescent Goliath has a David never known.
I have to admit that once or twice I have wondered whether PeeWee's gimmick might be bossman Mr Mike's and the Arena wrestlers' not-too-subtle joke on me and my blog. Admittedly what I know about wrestling--the sport or the entertainment--could fit into a thimble. I'm no wrestler, except in my dreams, where I'm me at 20-something, rather solidly built still, like I was when I was tussling with my considerably solider athletic buddies. Even then I was probably more frotteur than lutteur. But the enthusiasm I have for it all knows no bounds, even now! Like PeeWee, the idea of being buried under a tenth of a ton of sweaty manflesh or perched atop glistening pecs puts starch in my hand puppet. If it were not for the fact that, unlike PeeWee, I have no sister with whom I'm kinkily obsessed, I would be dead certain that the Arena wrestlers were taking the piss out of me. Bulldog need ever fear resistance from me, if challenged; throw in (please, gods!) Cam, Fury, Lex, and Impact, if they want backups; like PeeWee, I will fall on my back and spread my legs, thrilled to be a little roughed up and feeling at one with the mat.