Hard to Beat
Derrick Cole vs Chase Michaels, #474 (UCW-Wrestling)
Nobody, especially Derrick Cole, expected this much fight from the new guy. Not to say that Cole was unprepared. In his four previous appearances, Derrick established himself as not only one of UCW's hotter wrestlers but also a redoubtable heel, one of the best. I can't name five wrestlers who made their mark this quickly, this indelibly--in fact, only Quinn Harper and Eli Black come to mind. Cole is a phenom of brutal grappling and a juicy hunk of meat too.
As for new hire Chase Michaels, a tall drink of water from Cackalacky, he may have served as Nero Angelo's sexy plaything in his debut, but from that experience he learned how things are done at UCW--mean, obscene, and anything but clean--and this time around he comes on strong from the start, giving Derrick tit for tat in a breathtaking sophomore surge. It helps to be a quick learner in this company, or else you can get stepped on and forgotten. Michaels, it appears, has the adaptability of a Swiss Army knife.
The guys get right to it, no prologue, no introductions, no cheesy repartee. They're crouched and circling each other before the bell sounds. Derrick darts in with a low side kick to Chase's leg that doesn't faze the newcomer. Chase dives low, taking Derrick to the mat, but bodies don't hit the mat before Derrick steals the top position. Unlike some rookies, Chase doesn't just wriggle and writhe picturesquely. His lean body flexes and twists against Derrick's full nelson like he seriously means to break free. He muscles out of an attempted arm bar and slams an elbow to the heel's ribs. The look on Cole's face is 70% what-the-fuck, 30% you're-gonna-pay-for-that!
It takes Derrick just a second to remind Chase who the pro is, but Chase is unimpressed. The fight is give and take from beginning to end with neatly executed snap-mares, stomps, punches, two-counts, stretches, forearm smashes, pile-drivers, crab holds, headlocks, ball-busts, scissors, and chokes. It's a lot of tight scrabbling body against body, the way I like it. Four minutes in, and I'm feeling the swell that means Cole and Michaels are doing something right. This match is less like choreography than like a for-reals struggle, and the pace is quick, the wrestlers rarely coming up for air. Then in a climax deserving of the name, a killer suplex finishes off the battered and barely conscious loser.