Armond Rizzo vs Alex Costa, Catalog 7 - The Muscle Boys Get Dirty (MuscleBoy Wrestling)
No split second of MuscleBoy's still short history is more firmly etched in my memory than the moment Ethan Slade violates Armond Rizzo against the ring ropes in Catalog 4 ... unless it's Rizzo's face in orgasmic anguish, upper lip swelling as his teeth clamp his lower lip, his hooded eyes squinting up at Slade's hovering gaze. I can't imagine Armond or anybody improving on that moment. That unfeigned (or perfectly feigned) instant lingers over every other image of Rizzo since then.
Consider the magnitude of feeling I have for that memory when I say that Rizzo vs Costa in Catalog 7 is more, much more, than a "big versus little" match. The match's passions overwhelm the cuteness of "big versus little," technically correct terminology that nevertheless seems to miss the point of the action. Even the biblical "David versus Goliath" is too paltry a description. Instead, I think of the sky god Zeus's rapturous abduction of Ganymede. Only the pagans have a feel for this sort of ardor and frenzy.
Flat in places, the fight's overall impact is ecstatic, whether it is Armond's fiery but brief taste of dominance, during which he forces Alex to flex, or whether, more often, his writhing acquiescence to Costa's hairy-chested mastery. Since his debut late last summer, Costa has honed his performance style considerably, rising higher than his previous personal best versus Leo Luckett and playing his godlikeness to the hilt. There's real chemistry here between the two wrestlers. They tap into something authentic and intense - at first mechanically going through the motions, perhaps, but grasping for transcendence and majesty by the 26-minute match's final third.
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