Mucho Macho Muchacho
Last night my dear old pal (whose actual name I don't know, but we have written ball-gripping wrestling fantasies together twice a week for about 200 weeks now) suggested we do a match featuring Jose from BG East's golden age. It was a heart-stomping fantasy revenge match against a bigger blond wrestler at a rival online promotion, whom I reimagined (for the sake of dramatic tension) as a xenophobe. It was one of our greater matches among many great matches over the years. Jose--our version of him--kicked some racist butt.
I can't say that I have watched nearly enough of Jose, 5'10", 174#, in action, and having not checked my stash of BGE classics to be absolutely sure, I don't know whether I have even seen all the matches represented in the photos above. I'm almost sure I have. I sure as hell should have. Jose was a Clinton-era favorite of mine: smooth, succulently muscled, cruel, proud, graceful, and haughty. Decidedly a heel, Jose usually found himself well matched against equally tough and ruthless opponents, so, consummate heel that he was, it was never written in stone that he would win every contest or take his victories easily.
Jose's the kind of exuberantly sexual gogo-boy wrestler that makes steam rise up off my fly. He was quite a performer back in the day, consistently watchable and persistently wicked. I smack my lips just at the thought of him.