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Steve Mason vs Wolf Boy, Match 665 (UCW)

One thing Mason is going to take back home to Spain with him is sore nuts. It wasn't enough to get UCW champion Tyson and former champ Axel to leave their fingerprints all over his crotch. He had to go after Wolf Boy, too. I'm glad he did, and I suspect he is, too, or will be, once the ibuprofen does its magic. Getting in the ring or on the mat with Wolf Boy is like wrestling a wild beast, as the Boy's nom de guerre suggests. This is definitely one contest to write home about.

Physically Wolfy and Steve are well matched. They are roughly the same size, both darkly handsome, both dramatic as fuck. All these features contribute to the match's sluggo-erotic appeal for me. In this area, if not in wins, Steve scores three out of three, a better track record than most wrestlers see, especially since Steve is new to the American underground scene. He may not be as smooth or as rough as Wolf Boy (yet), but he possesses shitloads of fortitude.

The intros are minimal and casual, so the fight starts quickly and cleanly as the two lock up and Wolf Boy drags Steve down to the canvas. After much twisting and grunting, Wolfy gets an inverted facelock on his opponent. Steve thrashes free, but soon finds himself in a chinlock, very nearly a choke, going from bad to worse. Wolf Boy voluntarily releases but mostly because he's aching to drub Mason's midsection - not much of an improvement for Steve. 

Four minutes into the 29-minute match, Steve gets the upper hand, wringing some moans and grimaces out of Wolf Boy for a minute. And I mean a literal minute. I clocked it. With his characteristic energy and scrappiness, Wolf regains the advantage and holds onto it - with several hope spots interceding as punctuation marks, proofs that Mason is rugged but not yet as rugged and energetically destructive as his sexy opponent.

Wolf Boy manages to keep almost every match he's in as lively as a summer blockbuster. I can think of only one exception, but I won't go into it again, especially since it was so obviously a fluke. He's the man who keeps this match humming by revving up the pace and then following with close-detail assaults on Mason's joints (see shots 4, 5, 6, and 9 above, for example) and nostrils (not pictured). That there's a tinge of goofball in the mix gives the guy even more star potential. He thoroughly owns this match, and, as usual, it's hard to tear my eyes away from him (but why would I do that?)

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