Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Heel-o-ween






Nothing is scarier than Axel in drag wrestling a werewolf. Somebody must have told the former champ he'd look cool in a hoodie. He went the whole nine yards with puffy sleeves and a lace-up corset, too. The cumulative effect is basically Frank-N-Furter meets Rhoda Penmark meets Jason Bourne. In its first holiday release [#233] of the year (I don't recall a Valentine's or Easter special--though a bunny-versus-Lamb-of-God match would be right up my alley), UCW presents a twist on Little Red Riding Hood, with the hardly hapless Axel in the lead, fending off a wolf, a ghoul, and a zombie. 

I've been watching the company's special Halloween video in snatches between visits from wandering packs of ballerinas, superheroes, and creepy fourteen year olds in "Scream" masks begging for candy. (I give good candy. Dark chocolate with almonds.) I love the spirit of fun the UCW guys bring to every project BodySlam's fevered imagination comes up with. This one put a smile on my face (all right, more like a smirk).

Thunder's Arena also has a Halloween special, as yet unseen by me, featuring psychotic wrestler Brenden Cage on the prowl for cute muscle boys (hot newbies Geo and Braden Charron) to terrorize in a two-parter Halloween Havoc. Cage played sinister in his fights against Cameron Mathews and Big Sexy earlier in the year, exuding a pronounced serial-killer vibe ... and it was not even Halloween. The stills look like the new boys give the predator a good run for his money. (Keep up the good work, Brenden. You're giving me ideas on how to deal with unruly jocks in freshman composition.)


Bam!







A couple of days ago I was worried about my fighting friends up north in Philadelphia, New York, and Boston. I wasn't too worried, though. I knew it would be hard, with flooding, brownouts, blackouts, and the roar of winds forged by evaporating Arctic Sea ice. But I also know these guys are tough as nails. And no bitch named Sandy would get the best of them.

Yesterday at noon Axel reported to his Facebook friends:
I am doing just fine along with Christian Taylor and Skip Vance. We just got some heavy rain and wind here in western Pennsylvania. Some flooding in the cities but nothing serious. I talked to BodySlam Michael back home in Philly. The UCW house is safe, no flooding or fallen trees. Seems like Philly was spared the brunt of the storm; however, the city is still shut down. Roads are open, but no businesses are open.
Freestyle Combat League recently released a 25-minute video of Axel and Eli Black testing their endurance and jab in a contest to see who could stand the longest after trading blows to the abs. Since FCL is Axel's baby, I could see Eli perhaps having some jitters over hitting the boss, but in an opening interview he seemed totally unconcerned. He said he welcomed the idea of a gutpunching contest mainly because he was getting tired of mere grappling and submission fighting.

I'm not the biggest fan of gutpunching for its own sake (I am big on the coloratura of a full-fledged knockdown drag-out), but it's fun for me watching two great guys horsing around, no matter how repetitively, when they're as into it as these two guys are. (I might, however, be interested in someday watching a 25-minute armbar, but even then I would prefer it to be surrounded with some other moves I like.) Eli and Axel hold nothing back, and there's cocky banter between them too. Plus, at the end, we get some tips on how to work out our abs the way these guys do. Have at it, boys!

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Let Me At Him!












Man, how I love the sound of muscle and bone slapping against muscle and bone! Rock Hard Wrestling's latest tag team match gives me plenty of that, along with boisterous taunts, screams of strangled agony, and Austin Cooper yelling from the corner, "Let me at him!"

Coop has dumped Jake Jenkins, reportedly, according to rumor, because of Jake's recent losing streak at RHW in singles matches. Now Cooper's teamed with hot, young Brodie Fisher to fight Will Stanley and Jason Kane, basically a pairing of a vet and a rookie on opposite corners of the ring. Adding insult to injury to old Jake, Austin has dressed his teenage replacement in Jake's old oxblood trunks.

Will and Jason quickly establish themselves as heel material as they mercilessly throttle Brodie, leering as Austin calls helplessly from his corner. A while back, Wrestling Arsenal wrote eloquently of the men stuck outside the ring in team competitions, and his blog always comes to mind at moments like this.

Coop and Jake were such deliriously delightful heels at Rock Hard, it's a bit strange to see Austin as the rock-steady (and "rock hard") big brother to poor put-upon Brodie. The lusciously buff duo may not consistently take the high road in this match, but at least they can say that they were not the ones who started the rough stuff.

When he finally gets into the fight, Austin gives Jason, the vet on the other team, a thorough and satisfying trouncing, denying Will the chance to intervene until he's given little buddy Brodie a chance to hold the bad boy's arms back to the turnbuckle while Coop flogs him like a dusty throw rug.

Once he's reduced Jason to a limp dishrag, he contemptuously boots him back to his corner, basically inviting Will into the ring for some of the same. Will comes in strong, however, busting Coop's back over his shoulder and then crushing him in a viselike bodyscissors. Then nasty Will makes highly questionable use of the ring ropes to torture Austin's hamstrings. Brodie the kid tags in and proceeds to redeem his earlier weak showing by busting his haughty British counterpart up.

At the end of Round 1, it's the two big brothers in the ring again, and Austin, his temper riled, goes mondo-savage all over long, lanky Jason's skinny ass. When Coop locks Jason in a headscissors and starts pounding his abs, we get a sense of how cocky and a little warped the bad boys are when Will urges Coop not to hold back on his partner, shouting, in a mixture of overweening confidence and near-treachery, "Hit him harder ... he can take it!"

No strangers to cockiness (or rule-bending) themselves, Austin and Brodie double team to test just how much punishment Jason indeed can take, finally leaving him groaning and half conscious, a sweaty heap on the ring floor.

That's Round 1, and it's probably the most invigorating tag team round I have watched in a long time. I love Austin as a babyface, albeit a slightly shady one, but then I do just plain love Austin. It's a fact. 

I'll spare you spoilers about what happens next, but from beginning to end this give-and-take fight gave me a stiffy that stayed with me all the way to bedtime and stuck by me through a long and windy night. I know it has its critics, but Rock Hard has got only better over the years, and this is a match that stands up against any other company's product for toughness, for sweat, for rub-your-eyes-in-disbelief holds, for drama, and for pure undiluted sex appeal.

(Thanks to Bob at Rock Hard for supplying these pictures.)

Monday, October 29, 2012

Pink on Pink








Yesterday afternoon at Rampage Pro Wrestling in Warner Robins, Georgia, a personal pink-on-pink fantasy was realized as the fabulous BFF's ("Adorable" Anthony Andrews and "Marvelous" Michael Stevens) fought and defeated the glamorous Exotic Ones (Simon Sermon and Tommy Too Much). By the way, Simon is an out gay pro wrestler and subject of a fine documentary a few years ago, and Tommy is simply out there. Even after Anthony pinned Tommy for the win and the bell sounded, the BFF's (the hometown pinksters) continued the assault on the out-of-towners. In other news from the same show, Kyle Matthews defeated Mike Posey to win the RPW television title. (Photos by JR Spires)

Friday, October 26, 2012

Sissy Fight












The flamer in pink is Jules Lambrini, the "Champ of Camp" and a "Real Man's Man," and the crowd hates him because he is way way out of line. Prancing and wiggling his ass and resting his limp wrists on his hips every opportunity he gets, Jules nevertheless dominates his opponent, a young macho wrestler named Kid Kandy (though only in pro wrestling would that name, those tights, and that haircut pass as butch). I love this Pro Power Wrestling match, taped in Blaengarw, Wales, in 2008. Maybe I should be ashamed of myself. It might in some small way betray some residual self-loathing homophobia on my part. I prefer to think that I like it because Lambrini and Kandy are close in age and weight (though that's hard to judge, given the camera angle), or because the action is fast paced and well choreographed, or because the fight realizes my ideal of a male catfight (hairpulling, up-close choking, and pussy punching). Lambrini keeps Kandy backed into corners and clutching his balls for almost the full sixteen minutes. And just when it's time for the Kid to turn the tables and give Jules the climactic bashing he deserves, the sissy pins him, tugging down his tights ever so slightly to reveal a hint of fishbelly white crack. The low-def video and high camera angle add to the air of luridness a bit. If you promise not to despise me for liking it, you may watch the video here and here

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Shopping List















Repeatedly, readers of this blog and I have commented on differences in taste concerning the subject of professional wrestling. My tastes constantly change; other people like exactly what they liked twenty years ago, and are pretty fastidious in their preferences, down to the color of the wrestlers' kneepads. Vive la difference! Okay? I love that about people. No two kinks exactly alike, like snowflakes. Soon enough, we'll all be the same, indistinguishable, when we're ashes and dust, to be just a little morbid.

I'm philosopher (or narcissist) enough to be fascinated by my own mind's workings. I've never felt compelled to conform to the tastes of an authority, the majority, or even a select inner circle ... as regards wrestling, or, really, anything. Friends have left imprints on my tastes, but even then what I take home will swerve somewhat off the course of my friends' tastes. Basically, pro wrestling works for me when it involves two strapping men grappling, two men who know what they're doing in the ring

That last point is the most important for me. Both wrestlers, whether they win or lose, suffer or cause another to suffer, should be masters of the art and sport of pro wrestling--moves, holds, swagger, selling, timing. Beyond being good at wrestling, the rest is icing. Still, I do love icing. I like wrestlers to be strapping, strong, and sexy, of course, but it's not  essential that they be these things. To my surprise, often, they don't even have to be men

So, yes, I like muscles, a fetching face, and nine-inch cock as much as anyone, as evident elsewhere in this blog, and I am reasonably satisfied if hot and handsome contestants just bounce against each other for a little while and then collapse on top of each other. But let's not call that wrestling. Let's call that process wrestling, similar to process cheese.

More particularly, I like singles events. I like two equally matched men with distinct and dramatically contrasting principles. It need not be heel and jobber--two heels can fight each other, or two technically proficient babyfaces. More particularly still, I like lots of corner punching and mat grappling. I like sweat and grunts and moans. I like a firm but slightly protuberant stomach above a pronounced iliac furrow. I like thick thighs and broad, heavy shoulders. I like bubble butts that tilt upwards. I like tight, prolonged clenches. I like chokes. I like sudden and tidy finishers. I like pins. Submissions and knockouts are fine, too, but all the better for me if they're combined with pins.

I don't like wrestlers who undersell or oversell their opponents' moves. I don't like disqualifications. I don't like weapons or foreign objects, unless a weapon leads to a tussle in which one wrestler successfully disarms his opponent before the weapon can be used. I don't like too many people in the ring at once or hovering around its periphery. I don't like blood.  I don't like gear that has tassels hanging from it. I don't like microphone rants or, in general, a lot of talking.  I can tolerate these things, but only if there's plenty of the good stuff I like to offset them.

An example of my idea of a good match is Pepper Parks versus Andrew Davis in Neo Wrestling Federation's June 19th show (check the match out here). Both wrestlers look good, in gear that complements their physiques. They are strikingly different in their attitudes. They know how to sell moves and put on a good wrestling show. There's some flying off the ropes. Some outside interference, too. But these things don't overwhelm the tight, closeup grappling and corner punching. The bout ends decisively with a pinfall. I could ask for more, certainly. But this fight is a classic, a one-stop destination for all the staples on my shopping list.

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...