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Dolf vs Steel, Battlespace 89 (Thunder's Arena)

For years Thunder's Arena has been filling in the missing pieces of all those Hercules movies I watched as a boy. While I munched popcorn and chili dogs at the USAF base theater, Steve Reeves and his Italian pals kicked up dust in the arena and flung ten-pound prop boulders at each other. I saw only split-second glimpses of the protagonist bodily in contact with his adversary. Thunder's now supplies the visuals I used to have to imagine for myself.

The Arena's roster specializes in big muscle. Underground wrestling may have been built on the shoulders of guys like Steve Sterling at BG Enterprise, but mesomorphs have never been typical in the internet wrestling scene, except at Thunder's Arena. And in this garage match between Dolf and Steel, the camera provides tight closeups (like those sampled above) that give me a better than front-row view of the battle, practically putting the viewer into the fight, where all that's lacking is the splash and smell of the man-sweat. It exemplifies the best of what the Arena has to offer, which may be why Mr. Mike sent a number of us bloggers a free download on Friday. I'm more than happy to sing its praises in return.

In my spurious backstory for this match, Mike paired these two wrestlers because Steel, post Vegas holiday, is too big for his britches. He's definitely too big for the matchbook-sized bikini he wears, almost too big for the panoramic screen. How did he swell up so fast? The guy is a legit beast now--and weren't the Vegas events just five months ago? Rightly, Mr. Mike thinks relative newcomer Dolf is the man to put Steel back in his place. (I remind you that this narrative is entirely a product of my imagination.)

The actual 19-minute battle, which follows three or four minutes of posing, is give and take all the way. From one minute to the next, dominance shifts from Steel to Dolf, then back to Steel again--you can almost set your clock by the reversals. We get collar and elbow, armbars aplenty, powerlifts, bearhugs, headscissors, and chinlocks. Every four minutes or so, Dolf reaches beneath his waistband for a cock adjustment. It's the same damn thing at my house. To my taste, the action could be a little faster and more intense, but the scenery is astounding! But the closeups! They and the low and high angles, which can be so telling, are what make this match an A-plus production--and the two Minotaurs at war take me back to my preadolescent fantasies of Hercules, Maciste, Samson, Spartacus, Ulysses, Morgan the Pirate, Atlas, Ursus, Sinbad, Tarzan, Romulus and Remus, and all their strapping sons in uncountable badly dubbed sequels.


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