Gut Feeling










Kid Vicious vs Devon Britt-Darby, Gut Bash 13 (BG East)

I'm in over my head on this one because the gut punching thing has never appealed to me - not as a main course anyway. I do like punching in a fight, and I'm fine if some of those punches land on the stomach. I'm particularly fond of big-bellied wrestlers getting socked in the gut - and I refer to taut convex bellies, not the ones that shake like a bowlful of jelly - and I have no idea why that might be so. I'm not a fan of the dogged pursuit of any one hold or tactic isolated from a larger scheme of combat or drama. I love bear hugs, but to me a video entirely devoted to bear hugs is a bit like a main course of gravy.

However, I am a huge Kid Vicious fan and have been since he first entered my radar years ago. Back before this blog existed, before I had heard of a blog, I was fixated on slim pervy heels like Dick the Prick, Jarret Cole, Mickey Rollins, Dane Tarsen, Kurt Eriksen, and the lot - but the slimmest and perviest of them all was Vicious, who brought a sort of gentlemanly and carnivorous chi to the art of crushing a man's spirit and seizing his cock. Fortunately, a sadomasochist has a longer shelf life in the BGE universe than a babyface - ou sont les Flyboys d'antan?  - and Kid Vicious is still flaying his victims with the fine eye and delicate touch of a diamond cutter. If anybody can interest me in the varieties of tummy torture, it is the Kid.

Six-foot, 170-pounder Devon Britt-Darby is new to me and new to BG East. He sports a washboard stomach - a cliché of male pulchritude that I appreciate for its longevity and wow factor, though personally I prefer thighs and backs. It's a perfect canvas for Vicious to paint his latest masterwork, The Many Miseries of Devon. The 77-minute crucible begins innocently enough, assuming that stringing a man up and pummeling his torso can be called innocent. Thirteen minutes on, Vicious throws Devon into the ring, where he demonstrates the close detail work he's famous for, alternating between tyranny and brief interludes of wolf-like tenderness. Devon is an expressive victim, vocal and animated within the tight constraints the Kid imposes on him. I'd credit him more for his acting ability if only his abs weren't so rapidly coloring strawberry pink, thus suggesting he might not be acting at all.

Though Vicious seldom deviates from his determined target, his colorful array of tactics negates my complaint about overly focused themes in wrestling. Far from repetitious, his assaults are endlessly inventive and even form a curious kind of dramatic arc even though Devon offers no retaliation or resistance. It's an elaborate dance with Vicious leading and Britt-Darby totally submissive to the virtuoso's will and whims.


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