Before I started this blog--so I'm talking about a while ago--one of my obsessions was NHB-Battle, now defunct but lovingly preserved for us fans at Movimus, as most of you know already. Besides Max Anderson and Mikey Hanlon, two obvious favorites for most wrestling fans, I closely followed two other wrestlers, Axel (not to be confused with UCW's Axel) and Swage, not the conventional "fitness model" types, but they sizzled in speedos while working up a shimmery sweat wrestling.
I have given these two wrestlers only a mention in these pages, and that was several years ago. What originally sold me on Axel was his fighting heart and resilience under pressure but mostly his passing resemblance to somebody I knew and wrestled. Swage looks like nobody I remember knowing in life, but I find him strongly compelling because of his aggressiveness, tough and compassionless in the assault, not to mention sexily dangerous-looking.
Last night I noticed one of Swage's matches listed as a bestseller at Movimus: Wanna Wrestle 10. The price was right, and I had some time on my hands and felt I deserved a treat before spending the rest of my weekend in solitary confinement, grading stacks of freshmen essays. It helps that Swage's opponent in this fight is Lance Jeffers, a wrestler I have enjoyed in other matches and a close match for Swage in height and weight, the two being within an inch and three pounds of each other. It's also a contest with striking contrasts--Lance with his hairy chest and thighs and Army drill sergeant looks and Swage with his sleek, shark-like body and dive-bar punk style.
It would appear that Swage had not expected Lance to offer him much of a challenge. But this is a hard-fought match, relentless for the full twenty minutes, rich with the sounds of the two men grunting as they wrench and stretch each other's body. Lance immediately clamps himself onto Swage and won't let go, squeezing out two submissions from his younger opponent in quick succession. On the breaks, Swage testily shoves Lance away, perhaps mostly pissed off at himself for having had to tap out. Lance keeps a cool head, while Swage fuels his temper, hoping thereby to gain an edge over his adversary. By the midpoint both look like they're sporting healthy boners (and in that they're not alone).
For all my love of the theater of pro wrestling and the cheap thrills of oil-pit wrestling, good mat grappling is still the sure-firest way to get my juices roiling, especially when the wrestlers take the contest seriously and know a thing or two about tying a man in knots, making him hurt just enough to know who's boss. Simple and uncomplicated, this match fits the bill.