There Arose Such a Clatter

Brian Cage vs Ethan Page,  Bar Wrestling 7: A Christmas Special, 14 December 2017 (Bar Wrestling)

Getting punched in the face changed me from a boy into a man. Let's see, that would have been 1972. I was wrestling my best friend, 6'3", 190#, on the university's soccer field after dark. I took it upon myself to grab a fistful of his hair and yank it, exactly the way I had always wanted to do. He didn't take kindly to that and threw me onto the bleachers and propelled his knuckles to my face countless times. I remember the metal seats jabbing my spine as my friend straddled my waist and punched and kept punching till a mutual friend pulled him off me. Would you think less of me if I told you the whole thing turned me on? (I still have a chipped front tooth to show for it, but now I'm just bragging.)

Sad to say, I'm too old for roughhouse now. My last significant row was with an ex in San Francisco twenty years ago. We had split five years earlier, but still liked each other a lot.  (We lost touch some five or six years ago.) The fight started with some shoving on the walk back to the B&B from Castro Street and ended with a bed match, executed as quietly as possible except for one noisy close call involving an antique ceramic lamp. I won that one and got what I wanted out of the deal. (Heh-heh.) The next morning the proprietor delivered breakfast for two to our bed, so somehow he figured out there was an unregistered guest and didn't mind. You have to love San Francisco.

That said, you can keep your eight tiny reindeer and visions of sugar plums. I'm starting the day with Brian Cage (6', 249#) mussing up Ethan Page (6'2", 222#) and vice versa. The thunderous match is from last year. These two have rumbled before, and that's always a good thing, in my opinion, because the better two wrestlers know each other, the better the fight, usually. I tend to like tight squeezes, scissors, body locks, and bear hugs, in the intimacy of a mat (or motel) room. That's because I'm a homo through and through. My reasons for liking a clobber-slam-stomp ring fight are no less linked to my sexuality, in large part due to the relatively late imprint of my early college years. 

Heavyweights are at their best in this sort of contest. Cage and Page are delicious up against each other. There's hardly a wrestling hold in the underlit 10-minute melee. I could also complain that there's far too much jawing in the video's opening minutes. But once the two heavies start heaving each other through the ropes, slamming each other into walls and floors, and delivering wallop after wallop, all is forgiven. The holiday decor decking the American Legion hall provides a funny contrast to the bedlam the two burly giants provide in and out of the ring. The fans holding cups of eggnog or mulled cider are a hoot, standing stunned as the anything but silent stars shove their way through, heaping blow upon blow on each other. As I said, "Delicious."

Merry Christmas to all you wonderful wrestlers and fans of wrestling ... and to all a good fight.

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