"This is what it's all about!" enthuses one of the off-camera commentators, right off the bat, before the wrestlers have entered the ring. Here is one of many charming aspects of professional wrestling: two young bucks squaring off against each other. Who would not get excited about this?
Thank-you to Comptroller, longtime friend of this blog, for linking me to this March of 2013 match for Pro Wrestling Collision. It's a championship challenge, pitting pals-turned-nemeses Jay Spade (5'8", 154#, all oiled up in trunks instead of tights, for a change) against the champion, the volatile red-haired Joey O'Riley, 5'7", 160#.
Despite the amateur stiltedness of several transitions from one move to another, this is the stuff of daydreams for me. The awkwardness is far from annoying; it only makes the match more endearing. Watching it, I fictionalize my life to include a youthful turn as a pro wrestler in which I am routinely paired with (or against) a friend.
It may not be accurate, but my impression is that half the time Jay and Joey get booked they are booked together, as a set. I imagine them as inseparable, like salt and pepper shakers. In the fantasized reboot of my early years, perhaps my buddy has a father or an uncle who owns the promotion, so we are privileged to fight each other regularly in front of a bunch of squealing thirteen-year-old girls.
At the risk of overstatement, maybe this is my idea of heaven. Forever young, forever glistening, forever duking it out with my handsome best friend. The chemistry between these two is palpable, and they are so full of youthful energy and naive machismo that they can't help but let the action spill out of the ring.