The Sweat Hereafter

Mitch Colby vs Jobe Zander, Ringwars 29 - Steeped in Sweat (BG East)

Mix two ripe wrestlers in good shape and old enough to be past the insecurities and inhibitions of youth. (We prefer mid-30s to 40s, but tastes do vary.) The bigger, meatier, and meaner, the better. Dress in trunks, boots, etc., to taste. Add a mat or squared circle. Bring to a boil. Then steep the fighters' in their own juices for 43 minutes. 

In Ringwars 29, it's evident that BG East has perfected the recipe for a certain kind of  raunchiness, transcending the merely picturesque and focusing on the rough and nasty. The matching of Zander and Colby is a stroke of genius, so obvious a treat for the senses and scrotum that I'm surprised nobody thought of it earlier. Mitch and Jobe are in their best shape ever, and the time is right for them to be pitted against each other, especially after Mitch's epic Vegas ambush of Cage Thunder, especially after Jobe's brutal horndog match against Kid Karisma. These guys are primed and ready to rumble.

Jobe postpones the action with a tirade - ranting over Mitch's lack of showmanship, color, and pizzazz, demanding that MC exit the ring so ZJ can make a proper McMahon-style entrance.  "Are we wrestling or are we putting on a show here?" Mitch asks in reply. Bravo, Colby! Already, in his own measured way, he wins the war of words.

I'll give credit to Jobe, though. When the action begins, he's on top of Mitch with a quick takedown and leglock. Mitch grabs the bottom rope, but Jobe does not immediately relent, all the better since the hubris and cruelty will make the inevitable comeuppance all the tastier by and by. Zander stomps on the man's back, then pulls him up to the turnbuckle, where he tenderizes Colby with gut punches before busting his back over one knee. When Jobe peels off his pink wrestling trunks to reveal ... even pinker trunks, he smears Mitch's face with the castoff. It's extra touches like this that make a heel supremely raunchy and make me wish for the most humiliating snuff-out possible by way of payback.

At the peak of Zander's triumph, Colby strikes back, but, as is usual in these scenarios, it's not yet enough to reverse the momentum. We have to wait three more minutes for the sustained thrashing that Jobe has been asking for, most dramatically (speaking of "showmanship") in a series of body slams, the body slam being a wrestling hero's preferred means of dishing up justice. The action shifts to give and take as Zander's "centerpiece" boner puts more and more stress on his trunks. Jobe continues to dish up punishments in the sadistic vein of old-school TV rasslers, emphasizing pain for its own sake over scientific combat strategy. 

At the match's midpoint, Colby forcefully resumes control, and the perspiration begins to pour. Mitch repays Jobe tit for tat as their bodies turn increasingly slippery with sweat. This coincides with six minutes of consecutive bear hugs, at which point I can't help but think that Jobe's centerpiece must be drilling a hole through Mitch's midsection. If you're thinking that ball-busting is but seconds away, you are right, as Zander raises the raunch-levels to 500˚ F. This is never my favorite part of a match, but I accept it as a necessary prelude to a long-awaited and well-deserved ass-whupping. 

The final five minutes of this slow-burn classic is high-calorie deliciousness.

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