Shropshire Lads
Damian Dunne vs Drew Parker, Shropshire Wrestling Alliance, British Lions 2014
I support the old saying "the devil's in the details." Damian's wrench to Drew's shoulder, resting his knee against the boy's face, the finger work, these are the marks of a heel with exquisite instincts.
And when the good guy gives you a taste of your own medicine, you coldcock the stupid bitch in the jaw.
Muscle and movie-star looks are terrific, but they're icing on the cake. What really matters in professional wrestling is a combination of moves, attitude, timing, and unflinching commitment to the moment. All the more so when you're a heel.
For me all this is even better when opponents are well matched in size, weight, physique, and know-how.
Babyfaces need to sell, sell, sell, sell the moves, their righteous indignation, the pain, down to the almost imperceptible body spasm. And when the time is ripe, they need to turn this fucker around--even if it's just for a temporary "hope spot"--the more spectacular the reversal, the better.
Clean, perfect technique must triumph over meanness and brute force at least once in the course of the battle, and the finish must be sudden, orgasmic, and almost out of nowhere: my rule, my credo, my fifteen quid for the souvenir T-shirt.
The two faced off again in Shrewsbury on Friday, January 15th. See still photos of that match here on the VII Underground page on Facebook.
I support the old saying "the devil's in the details." Damian's wrench to Drew's shoulder, resting his knee against the boy's face, the finger work, these are the marks of a heel with exquisite instincts.
And when the good guy gives you a taste of your own medicine, you coldcock the stupid bitch in the jaw.
Muscle and movie-star looks are terrific, but they're icing on the cake. What really matters in professional wrestling is a combination of moves, attitude, timing, and unflinching commitment to the moment. All the more so when you're a heel.
For me all this is even better when opponents are well matched in size, weight, physique, and know-how.
Babyfaces need to sell, sell, sell, sell the moves, their righteous indignation, the pain, down to the almost imperceptible body spasm. And when the time is ripe, they need to turn this fucker around--even if it's just for a temporary "hope spot"--the more spectacular the reversal, the better.
Clean, perfect technique must triumph over meanness and brute force at least once in the course of the battle, and the finish must be sudden, orgasmic, and almost out of nowhere: my rule, my credo, my fifteen quid for the souvenir T-shirt.
The two faced off again in Shrewsbury on Friday, January 15th. See still photos of that match here on the VII Underground page on Facebook.
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