Is Alex Pretty Enough to Take Jake's Spot?
It takes Alex Waters about a minute, a bit more, to get Jake Jenkins on all fours and to start wiping the mat with the man's nose. Alex looks as comfortable as can be in the ring, and if any new name on the Rock Hard Wrestling roster can be said to possess this ring now as his personal property, it would be Alex. In the still relatively short history of Rock Hard, I have seen three epochs: the Age of Zack, Cody, and Tyler in the beginning, the Age of Austin and Jake, and now, apparently, The Age of Alex. Sure, there have been some overlaps and a stunning supporting cast of players, with bright, young smiles atop exquisitely tapered bodies--Trent, Travis, Lucas, Brodie, and Josh--each one a thriller in his own right too--but none has seemed as sure of his command of the squared circle as young Alex.
If we can trust the stats listed on the RHW site, Alex and Jake are two well-matched opponents--within an inch of each other in height, within ten pounds in weight, Alex holding an advantage in both respects. Jake looks at Alex and sees not so much The Future of Rock Hard, as Waters would have it, but rather One More Little Prick Who's Just Asking for It. The clash of two warring stories about what this contest means is the gist of this match's drama. Which perspective is the right one? That is the question. To judge by the opening minutes, this is Alex Waters' world and we're just living in it. After the insult of having his face smashed to the vinyl, Jake pushes back, and hard, more heated than I have seen him in a while, but the added aggression seems only to rev Alex up.
Happily for fans of either (or, in my case, both) this fight goes for a full three rounds. Make that "three grueling, sweat-drenched rounds." Call me a happy man, because there aren't many things I like better than two cocky bad boys gunning for each other and holding nothing back in an all-out push to be top dog--and, if he can cripple the other guy along the way, the victor won't mind a bit. Nothing is as easy as either man initially imagined, and each takes a round apiece in a richly satisfying give-and-take all the way to a neck-and-neck finish. (This blog ends when I run out of hyphens.) The unforgettable Round 3 hit me like a wet, twisted gym towel, climaxing with one man totally messed up, writhing and whimpering, and the other man, badder and cockier than ever.
(Big thanks to Rock Hard for the photos and a peek at the video, released this past Wednesday.)