Kid Karisma vs Lorenzo "Jake" Lowe, Catch-Weight 9 (BG East)

The main event of Catch-Weight 9  features two of BG East's best fighters. Their styles are radically different - Kid K is the hand grenade of BGE wrestling, Jake is the cold sharp shiv to the neck. The camera lands first on Karisma, bounding from one set of ring ropes to the opposite ropes, looking like CrossFit incarnate, and then zooms in on the wrestler's award-winning butt, then the bulgy crotch.

"What the fuck do we have here?" he exclaims as Jake leaps onto the ring apron. Jake's built like a high diver or matador, lithe yet muscular where it counts. They each make the usual claim that they're unfamiliar with each other's name or reputation. "Your daddy get those for you?" Karisma asks, noting Lowe's bubblegum pink trunks. He gives Jake's ass an appreciative swat and then condescendingly praises the smile that flashes involuntarily across the young man's face.

They lock arms, pushing and shoving. Then K makes a sudden backwards leap and thrusts Jake face-first to the mat - a typically (for K) untypical move. Jake leaps back to his feet, readier than ever to fight the bigmouth. Kid K stands out from most other wrestlers because of his sass, his maddening manner of egging an opponent on and then suddenly tacking on a gesture designed to frustrate and humiliate him. Kid K understands the dual role of the heel - to be offhandedly desirable and offhandedly cruel. He's the quintessential Guy You Want to Fight.

Jake is K's opposite in almost every respect. His unassuming manner encourages a false sense of security. The antagonist draws in close, too close - convinced of Lowe's harmlessness - and then, with a few subtle shifts in position, Jake snaps shut a trap from which the guy cannot escape. Whether the ruse works against a pistol like Karisma is another story. Its success depends on the opponent's letting down his guard, and I can't think of any second of K's onscreen life that's been anything but "on." In fact, his larger-than-life personality leaves no room for this kind of subtlety.

When, about six minutes in, Lowe does effectively strike back, he employs the time-honored means of fighting fire with fire. By the ten-minute mark (out of a 27-minute match), both wrestlers glimmer (gloriously) with sweat, and Kid K is still largely in command. The final minutes find our well-matched heroes closely engaged in a three-minute post-submission struggle wedged against the turnbuckle, a tight but brutal skirmish so packed with cruel heat that it's certain to find its way into my wrestling fantasies, which have long consisted of similar clenches colored by writhing muscle, exhausted grunts, and raw, bare-knuckled jabs.

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