Kevin Von Erich vs Roger Kirby (St Louis Wrestling)
The taciturn, no-nonsense Texan whose mere name spoken aloud gave me hard-ons from 1978 to 1985 had not yet established himself as a superstar in 1979. His trademark barefoot approach to pro wrestling was still in the future, as was the landmark feuds for which most fans remember him today. It’s often not the most renowned contests of great wrestlers that interest me as an eroticist of wrestling arts. In this St Louis match, we see him going up against Roger Kirby, a bloated peroxide-blond egotist of the previous generation of wrestling stars, who now is apparently just waiting for a bonafide Adonis like KVE to come along, whoop his ass, and put him out to pasture. Sometimes youth must clear out a way for themselves by force, pitting themselves against the tried and true, stamping their logo onto the sides of the titans of yesteryear. But crusty Kirby may pose too big a challenge for the kid, yanking hair and pulling trunks, anything to retain his old laurels. In hindsight, though, we know the real deal, and the on-record result of this contest fools none of us.
Brad Michaels vs Brandon Reevet*, High Stakes Wrestling 3 (BG Enterprise)
Brad Michaels’ thick, hairy pugnacity is a perfect counterpoint to Brandon Reevet’s meticulously sculpted and waxed body. Brad does most of the heavy lifting, wearing Brandon down till the sweaty Frenchman is basically begging to be taken. I don’t mean to suggest that Reevet doesn’t put up a good fight. It’s just that Michaels is so much hungrier and tougher. All I need is a closeup photo of Brad's face glaring into the camera lens and my brain shouts "Fight!" Add a view of the hairy chest and I'm already throwing punches. In motion, Michaels may personify the fusion of wrestling and sex. Unlike videos that portray wrestling as foreplay for sex or tag the sex on as a separate entity, the sex here grows out of the struggle ... and in some sense it is the struggle. I don't have to rewatch the video to recall (in detail) Reevet's headlock on Michaels, which Michaels muscles his way loose of. It's like sex: the strain, the exultation. There’s nothing bashful or coquettish (or gentle) about it: just two handsome, brickhouse-built dudes wanting to master the other guy and dick-pin his ass to the mat.
Dash Decker vs Josh Steel, Catalog 18 (Rock Hard Wrestling)
The first time I saw the drunken wrestler angle is here. Slouched against the side of the ring with a long can of beer in hand, Josh Steel, the very picture of the dissolute porn boy (and just minutes away from being booted out of Rock Hard Wrestling), welcomes handsome Dash Decker to his ring debut. I was Josh’s fan when he sported his slender surfer-boy look, especially in his tag team appearances with Brodie Fisher and Brian Baker, as entitled brats who usually got their tails kicked. Josh has a face that begs to be punched, and I say that with admiration. When he beefed up, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the new look until this improbably fascinating match, pitting a shit-faced Josh against clean-living newcomer Dash. There's more here than just the two-ships-passing-in-the-night angle of Dash's debut coinciding with Josh's swan song. It's the coolest anti-drinking afternoon special ever filmed, though frankly a lost weekend boozing it up with Steel (in those trunks, please) sounds great to me--no less than the thought of having Decker tough-loving me towards a straight-edge life style.
* Brandon Reevet = Brandon Reefret = Brandon Reeves