2671 blog entries

Night RiderFighterGuyy blogja

Something completely offtopic: this is a POV video of me cycling through Budapest in the evening.

Last edited on 4/26/2018 7:42 AM by FighterGuyy; 6 comment(s);

MannersClawman's blog

I am getting very pissed off with members who can't even find the common decency to reply to messages -even to tell me to fuck off. I always reply to everyone and always try to be polite no matter how pissed I am.
No shows and late cancellations for no good reason are equally frustrating. I actually received an apology over 26 hours after a no show - nice - especially after I had refused another wrestler because I was already booked.
And why the fuck do people who live on the other side of the world think it is a good idea to issue a challenge that will never be fulfilled?
I am so grateful that these people are in the minority. But they are still a pain in the arse, as are the voyeuristic members who have no intention of grappling with anyone.
Rant over. Feel better now.

Last edited on 4/26/2018 11:54 PM by Clawman; 3 comment(s);

My fourth match #5KGWF(Korean Gay Wrestling Federation)

밤은 긴 팔다리를 그대로 늘어트린 채 바닥에 누워버렸다. 늘어진 밤의 입에 마치 재갈을 물리듯 자신의 자지를 입에 물린 골든은 자신의 무릅으로 밤의 팔을 짖누른다음 늘어져 있는 밤의 배를 내리치기 시작했다. 입에 골든의 육중한 자지를 문 밤은 신음 소리조차 제대로 내지 못했다. 배를 내려칠 때마다 울리는 바닥소리에 파뭍혀 간헐적으로 숨을 토하는 소리를 골든조차 듣지 못했다. 늘어진 다리가 배를 까일 때마다 들석였다. 만약 밤의 가슴이 들썩이며 숨을 쉬고 있지 않았다면 저대로 죽었다고 생각할 것 같았다.


두들기던 골든의 온몸에서 땀이 흘렀다. 위력적인 경기력을 보여주던 초반과는 달리 지친 기색이 역력했다. 골든은 자신의 오른손에 감고 있던 사슬을 풀어냈다. 그리고 늘어진 밤의 경기복을 찢듯이 벗겨버렸다. 그리고는 늘어진 밤의 허리를 들어올려 활처럼 허리가 휘어지게 하곤 밤의 자지를 입에 물었다.

"우움... 움..."

밤의 다리가 허공을 내질렀지만, 골든은 단단히 잡은 허리를 놓치지 않았다. 점점 발기되기 시작한 밤의 발기에 골든의 침이 타고 흘러내렸다.단단히 발기된 밤의 몸을 내린 후 밤의 입에 넣었던 자신의 자지를 꺼낸 골든은 밤의 다리사이에 자리를 잡고 앉았다. 그리고는 늘어진 밤의 다리를 잡고선 자신의 어깨위에 걸쳤다. 그리곤 밤의 엉덩이를 들어올려 에널을 핥기 시작하자 밤의 다리가 골든의 머리를 휘감았다.


그리고 순식간에 밤의 몸이 공중으로 뜨더니 자신의 다리 사이에 감긴 골든의 미간에 밤의 머리가 박혔다.

"악... "

골든이 주춤대자 머리를 감았던 밤의 바닥으로 떨어지며 뒷구르기로 거리를 벌였다. 그리고 주춤대는 골든의 머리를 그대로 양 발로 차 버렸다. 머리를 차인 골든이 쓰러지자 높게 점프한 밤이 무릅으로 골든의 솟은 배를 내리 찍었다. 퍽 소리와 함께 배를 찍히자 골든 숨을 몰아쉬며 뒹굴었다. 몸을 웅크린 골든의 뒷 허리를 잡은 밤은 엄청난 힘을 이용해 육중한 골든의 근육질 몸을 강제로 들어 올렸다. 그리고 백 베어허그 자세에 잠시 머물렀다가, 그대로 자신의 몸을 뒤로 넘겨 골든의 뒤통수를 링 바닥에 쳐 박아 버렸다.

'저...저먼 스플렉스? 이 나를 ?'

뒤통수를 공격당한 골든의 몸이 쭉 늘어졌다. 양 다리가 벌려진 채 머리쪽으로 넘겨지면서 에널이 공중을 향해 벌어졌다.

"이대로 죽지는 않았지?"

밤이 빙긋이 웃고는 다시 몸을 굴려 골든의 등을 탔다. 그리고는 다시 한번 거대한 거구를 들어올렸다.


다시 밤의 몸이 뒤로 젖혀지며 골든의 뒷머리가 링 바닥에 쳐박혔다. 다시 몸을 돌려 3번째까지 굴리고 나자 밤은 늘어진 골든을 두고 일어섰다. 골든은 눈을 감은채 숨을 몰아쉬고 있었다. 골든의 다리를 들어 올려 골든의 머리까지 젖힌 밤이 그대로 일어서서 단단히 발기한 자신의 자지를 골든의 에널에 쑤셔 넣었다.


비명보다는 신음에 가까운 탄성이 흘러나오자, 밤은 혀를 찼다.

"야. 이렇게까지 좋아하면 굴욕이 아니잖아. 안그래?"

목이 꺽여 잘 나오지 않는 목소리로 골든이 힘들게 대답했다.

"시발... 닥쳐."

본격적으로 섹스가 시작되자 골든은 신음하기 시작했다. 이미 골든의 몸을 잘 알고 있던 밤은 단숨에 골든의 전립선을 긁어댔고, 골든은 방울 방울 길게 늘어진 프리컴을 자신의 가슴팍에 쏟아낼 만큼 흥분했다.

"하악.. 조...좋아."

벌겋게 달아오른 골든이 교성을 흘리며 신음하자 밤은 난감하다는 듯 골든의 입술에 키스하며 골든의 신음 소리를 막았다. 한참의 키스후 입을 땐 밤이 골든의 어깨를 몸을 안으며 속삭였다.

"좋아도 티 좀 내지마. 미쳤어?"

그러자 골든은 밤의 몸을 으스러져라 안으며 더욱 절규했다.

"하악... 좋아... 더.. 더 쎄게 박아줘."

골든은 자신의 다리를 밤의 허리에 감으며 절규했다.

Last edited on 4/26/2018 1:49 PM by recuo; 0 comment(s);


"Hey, wimp, get away from my sister. I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from her."

He had told me that, several times. I remember that, because he had been punching my belly while he said it.

He was Bruce Godwin, captain of the baseball team, older brother of Michelle, who was my age and who was my crush.

She had been a geek girl along with us geek boys. Then she blossomed beautifully, and stayed her self inside. She was gorgeous, and I could talk to her, make her laugh. Especially when she wore those hiphugger jeans. She knew there was no way I could resist that.

So she invited me over to take a walk with her, and I biked around the block to her parents' house, and down in the suburban basement who should be there but Bruce and his pals.

I was a pot-bellied geek in the judgment, spoken or unspoken, of all the athletic guys. Bruce had a sick sort of possessiveness of his cute little sis. On top of his ego-preening, which would not tolerate the idea of his sister going out with a pot-bellied geek.

And here I was, trapped in a basement with Bruce. I was caught, completely. I had violated his very specific instructions to me. And his punishment was coming my way.

But I did myself one worse: I earned it. It wasn't the pain that I was afraid of. I was mortified at the thought of her seeing me, watching me, feeling me – as a pot-bellied wimp, as a humiliated bellypunch victim. I had to look tough.

So I answered Bruce with a swing at him.

Oh, I was so lame. In spite of my size. I don't even know what part of him I was aiming for, or what damage I expected to do with so feeble and slow a punch. All that mattered was the "ooh!" reaction from his friends.

That confirmed I had commited a foul, an ungentlemanly attack, on him. And he was now honor-bound to give me my beating in reply to my insubordination.

Right in front of my Michelle! What a fool I was. She was the kind of girl guys like me get beat up for.

My heart sank in my throat as soon as I saw him easily duck back from my wild swing. I whiffed, and my heart sank. I saw his eyes light up. I had handed him a green card to beat me up.

Naturally, he went right for my belly. The very first punch, yes, and the one he used to finish me off, and every punch in between. Right in my belly.

Look, I'm not fat, alright. I'm tall and mostly thin. My belly just naturally sticks out.

And now I was serving it up to him like a slow round pitch over home plate.

For the first few seconds, it looked like it might not go that way.

Without moving he flicked a fist toward my face. It never got within a foot of me, nor was it meant to, but my hands instinctively rose, and I deluded myself to thinking I had dodged it. He feinted his left fist again at my face. But this time when I raised my hands and shut my eyes, Bruce took a big step with his right leg and, with a "hah!" put all his weight into a solid punch in my belly.

My breath blurted from me with a forceful UH! I stood in shock, then the sense of being penetrated and the pain of being bellypunched flooded my mind and overwhelmed whatever control I had. I let out a sound, wailing OOOOOOOO!! and put my hands over my stomach and folded far over.

My eyes felt like they were bugging out, cartoon-style. My mouth felt sick and I opened it wide. My stomach feels like a crumpled beercan, and I can't keep mt hands from clutching at it desperately as I double up from a punch in my belly.

It's the humiliation I dreaded, acted out right in front of her. I'm now doubled over, making sick-baby noises, from a legitimate punch in the belly. Being mocked by the man who did it to me, and jeered by his friends.

Being not the star, no longer a potential Romeo, but being a mere stunt-man in life. That guy who tried to fight but couldn't take it in the belly. Forget him.

But Michelle wasn't like that, I knew. "Leave him alone, you bully," Michelle yelled – cluelessly adding fuel to my fire, "Stop hitting his belly!"

Bruce had almost a buzz cut, but I had affected long, hippie-boy hair. Long hair and a pot-belly are a bad combination to bring to a fistfight.

He grabbed my hair, and in one smooth swing he yanked me from doubled over to arched back. My hands naturally flew to my hair. I made no attempt to resist or fight. And now I've got my back arched and my belly stuck out, and Bruce is holding me up to the room full of his friends.

"Look at his belly!" one says.

"Stop, you bullies!"

The other boy tells Bruce, "You can see your fist-print on his belly!"

Bruce laughs. "You give him one!"

The boy lines up his shot to my helpless belly, and swings hard, overhand, and whomps a punch down onto my bowed-out belly, near the solar plexus, and after that I don't remember anything for a bit.

Michelle told me later what they did to me. The punch in the gut had scrambled my brains. I stood voiceless and defenseless while they punched my belly at leisure. They took turns: A left, a right, an uppercut, a big overarm jab. All straight into my belly. While she was demanding, "Stop punching his stomach. It's not fair!"

At least that's what she told me.

All I know is, the next thing I remember is rolling on the floor, cradling my belly and crying, while Michelle berated Bruce.

"Look at him, he's crying," she said, as if to draw Bruce's sympathy to my suffering and humiliation. But of course they all only laughed at me.

I was lost in my own world at the moment. It was the slow, suffering world of a belly-punch bellyache. I was on my knees on the carpet. My body had folded over as far as my pot-belly would allow, and my arms cradled my bullied, beaten belly. I had no control over myself now, I was possessed by the bellypain that flooded me.

My suffering was a comical show. The old cliche: big guy who can't take it in the belly. I brought it to life. On my knees, bent forward, face flat to the floor, gripping my belly, in the agony of feeling winded. I became him. A one-punch fight-loser. A big bellywimp. Still down and sucking air long after the 10-count has ended.

He got tired of waiting. He started kicking at me, and instinctively I stood up, as best I could. But he just grabbed me at once by the collar and started punching me in the belly.

I do remember some moments from that belly-beating. Mostly I remember that horrible "splatted" feeling when the fist sank into my stomach. The terrible displacement sensation so deep inside me. That flatted feeling.

Sometimes my tormentor would give me enough time to fully pull myself together, dry my eyes, catch my breath. Then I was bound to make an effort to attack him, or else I must quit in utter disgrace. Taking my beating was better than quitting.

My efforts never amounted to anything but embarrassment for me. I was just too slow, too bulky. Even before I got the wind knocked out of me. I had learned fighting by reading about it in a book.

But Bruce encouraged me, told me to swing at him, taunted me, "swing at me!" And I would, though I knew he just wanted to show off his skill in dodging a feeble blow and counterpunching hard to the belly. He was exceptionally skilled at it, and he made me suffer for the sake of showing off.

My lunges at my rival also reminded the crowd that, no matter how cruelly he beat up my belly, I was the fool who had challenged him.

The bully would mock and berate me, while I stood breathless from his punch in my belly. The moment I found my breath again and was able to inhale, Bruce lashed out with another fist, or a flurry of jabs, and he knocked the wind out of me again with a sock in my stomach. I would groan and go back to silently gripping my belly.

It ended only when they were tired of beating my belly. It ended with a kick in the stomach that made me writhe on the floor, silent. Then Bruce told me in front of everyone, "Don't go starting a fist-fight if you can't take it in the BELLY!" and on the word "belly" he kicked his boot into mine. OOF!

They trooped out of the basement. I could tell Michelle wanted to stay, but he glared at her and beckoned for her to follow him, so, with many glances back down at me, she did.

It was, to put it bluntly, a humiliation beating.

Last edited on 4/25/2018 6:46 AM by bellypunch; 0 comment(s);

My Fourth Match #4KGWF(Korean Gay Wrestling Federation)

목에 걸려진 목줄 아래로 쇠사슬이 감겼다. 그리고 밤이 힘껏 힘을 줘 좌우로 당기면서 조이자 골든의 얼굴은 금새 시뻘겋게 변했다. 당황한 골든은 베어허그를 풀고 자신의 목을 조르는 쇠사슬을 풀기 위해 쇠사슬을 잡았지만, 풀어내기 어려웠다. 그 사이 베이허그에서 빠져나온 밤은 골든의 등 뒤로 움직였다. 그리고는 그대로 골든의 목을 조이는 쇠사슬을 움켜진 채로 골든의 허리에 발을 대고 힘껏 밀었다.

"케엑... 켁..."

골든이 토악질을 하자 경기장 밖에서 심판이 소리를 쳤다.

"목조르기 어서 멈춰. 1!, 2!, 3!..."

어이없을만큼 빠른 카운터 소리에 밤은 잡았던 사슬을 놨다.

"야아 편파판정 장난아니네? 치졸한 새끼들.."

목줄이 풀리자 엎드려 숨을 고르며 헉헉 대는 골든의 머리를 잡고 젖힌 다음 다시 골든의 양 팔을 잡은 채로 발로 허리를 밀었다. 두꺼운 가슴이 활짝 펴지며 근육이 결이 마른 피부 사이로 드러났다.

"자 이젠 네 차례야. 항복?"

골든인 이를 악물고 고개를 저었다.

"이렇게 몸이 두꺼우면 불편한게 조금만 꺽여도 혈관이 근육에 눌리거든, 너 처럼 무식한 근육바보들은 유연성이 제로라서 더 그렇고..."

그리고는 더욱 힘껀 양팔을 잡아 젖혔다.


피투성이가 된 밤이 골든을 유린하는 것 역시 관객들은 좋아했다. 어느쪽이든 당하는 그림이 좋은 생김새들이라. 젖혀진 골든의 팔이 점점 하얗게 되어갈 무렵 밤은 잡고있던 골든의 팔을 풀었다. 골든은 힘없이 앞으로 쓰러쪘다. 숨이 무거웠고 팔은 움직이기도 힘들었다. 그대로 엎어진 골든의 뒷 머리를 잡고 다시 밤이 일으켰다. 그리고 골든의 허리를 뒤로 젖혀 골든의 목을 자신의 겨드랑이에 끼운 후 젖히며 몸이 휘어지게 꺽었다. 드레곤 슬리퍼.


활짝 펼쳐진 골든의 몸은 땀에 젖어 반질거렸다. 젖혀진 몸에 맺힌 땀이 근육의 골을 따라 계곡물처럼 흘러내렸다. 한껏 젖혀진 몸에 밤이 팔을 들고 가슴과 배를 내려치기 시작했다. 등이 젖힌 채 얻어맞기 시작하자 골든은 자신의 목을 감고 있는 밤의 어깨와 팔을 움켜 잡았지만 뜯어낼 수 없었다. 수 차례 그렇게 얻어 맞다가 허리가 내려갈 듯 하면 다시 밤이 세차게 몸을 젖혀 골든을 일으켰다. 그리고 다신의 무릅위에 골든의 허리를 대고 다시금 팔꿈치로 몸을 두들겼다.


골든의 몸이 떨리기 시작하자 다시 한번 밤이 물었다.

"십새끼야 항복?"

하지만 힘없는 소리로 골든은 분명히 대답했다.

"헉헉... 아직 아냐."

밤은 슬그머니 웃고선 골든의 옆 엉덩를 가로지르는 경기복의 얇은 부분을 움켜쥐고 뜯어냈다. 자그마한 경기복이 틑어지며 반쯤 발기된 골든의 자지가 나왔다. 그대로 밤은 드러난 골든의 자지를 움켜잡고 흔들기 시작했다.

"하악.. 안돼... 아악.."

젖혀진 골든의 뒷꿈치가 들리며 다리가 떨렸다. 늘 골든과 어울려 놀던 밤에게는 익숙한 광경이다. 골든은 지금 좋아 죽을 지경일터다. 골든의 반응을 확인한 밤은 몸을 숙여 골든의 젓꼭지를 함께 빨았다. 순간 골든의 밤의 몸을 안았지만, 저항이 아니었다.

"시발 좋아 죽겠지 새꺄. 슬슬 쌀 것 같냐?"

순간 골든이 쇠사슬이 감긴 팔로 다시 자신의 젓꼭지를 빨고 있는 밤의 옆머리를 후려 갈겼다. 밤이 옆으로 쓰러지자 주저 앉았던 골든이 숨을 몰아쉬며 일어섰다. 그리고는 주저앉아 비틀대는 밤의 머리카락을 단단히 잡고 마치 끌어올리듯 일으켜 세웠다.

"헉헉... 이제... 더 이상은 아무 제안도 없을꺼야. 헉헉... 이제 그냥 넌... 이 링에서 죽는거야."

그리고는 밤의 안면을 윗머리로 들이 박은 후 쓰러지려는 밤의 허리를 자신의 목에 감고 들어올렸다.


골든은 밤의 허리를 받쳐 어깨에 맨 후 밤의 낭심과 목덜미를 잡고 거칠게 꺽어 버렸다. 허리가 접히는 듯한 고통에 밤은 자신의 목을 죄며 누르고 있는 골든의 팔을 벗겨내려 했지만, 벗겨낼 수 없었다. 그대로 골든은 관객들에게 구경 시키듯 밤의 허리를 꺽은 채 링주위를 돌아다녔다. 만약 이즈음에서 골든이 밤에게 항복을 권했다면 밤은 항복했을지도 몰랐다. 하지만 마치 전리품을 맨 듯이 몸을 위, 아래로 흔들며 돌아다닌 골든의 눈은 독기로 가득했고, 밤에게 항복을 묻지 않았다.

숨소리만 간신이 내는 밤을 꺼꾸로 고쳐 든 다음 골든은 자신의 사타구니 사이로 밤의 머리를 내리고는 그대로 살짝 뛰며 주저 앉았다.


다시금 링 바닥이 출렁이며 밤이 링 바닥에 뻗었다.

Last edited on 4/25/2018 1:36 PM by recuo; 0 comment(s);

Fat old men can boxIronbull's blog

There is it; my new boxing Mecca. Up the stairs that lead off the main road is a former nightclub. It looks over the high street; a redbrick industrial building with its boxing identity in spray paint, two floors up. The people of Clapham wait for their buses directly outside its metal gates, ignoring the "12 reasons to learn to box" lovingly explained in a tatty old poster. Across the road lies the entrance to Clapham Junction station where you can be saved by Jesus, buy flowers and give away your spare change in the time it takes to drink a double espresso.

What is it about some venues that makes you want to switch your eyes to black and white? A boxing ring sits in the centre of the room and assorted bags and balls hang in neat rows like carcasses in an abattoir. Leather gloves are thwhacking explosively on a bag or mitts. Some guy is hanging wide-eyed over the ropes looking like he's about to puke while he fights for breath. Light is streaming in through the windows. Someone really ought to shout out "awright 'Arry" but - please - this is Clapham and it's far too polite; "good morning Jeremy, how's Sophie?" would be closer to the mark. And so the worthy pugilists of SW11 take the pleasures of the ring and glove up for their sessions. My eyes switch back to colour.

Rhys is my coach. A patient and softly spoken black man of kindly humour in his mid 20s with slender hands that look better suited to playing the piano or mending watches than to breaking faces. I can imagine him going to church on Sunday. When we spar he turns into a monster with cold eyes and a punch so fast I can barely see it. Three weeks ago he won a middleweight fight having dislocated his shoulder in the first round. I have asked him to teach me to fight. And so we train twice a week; once 121 and once in a small group.


It's a small repertoire. Who would have thought that such complex games could be played out?

Learning to box is a journey I started 6 months ago. I'm a heavy lump of 55 years, better suited to slow submission wrestling. I don't bounce around easily. I had a lot of physical re-education to go through. Have you tried skipping lately? Try it - see how many you can do! Boxing is driven by footwork and I had zero skill beyond an ungainly stomp. Slowly, week by week, Rhys is getting me there. I can skip 20 skips without tripping up and falling on my arse. I can move around on the balls of my feet, weave a bit and even shadow box at the same time.

I set myself the target of entering one amateur boxing match, regulated and recognised by Boxing England. Win or lose, I don't care. I just want to be good enough to do it. Just once. I want to touch the sacred stone. I'll sweat puke and bleed my way there if I have to. It is still my target. I would say it is a guy thing but the club is owned by two women and it is too inclusive to be macho about it. I am told that it is a mid-life crisis, but I wasn't having one.

The truth is that I am doing it because I love doing it. Learning new things creates new neural connections in the brain and there is growing evidence that this can fend off Alzheimers and other degenerative conditions. It certainly makes me wildly and deeply happy, in the present, to pursue something I never contemplated before. People tell me it is dangerous, but if a gamble has a 100% upside and only a 10% downside, wouldn't you take the bet? It has long been clear to me that danger is an antidote to depression. I knew that when I raced motorbikes. To keep death daily before one's eyes - so goes the rule of St Benedict. We are better for welcoming that downside risk, even if it means the death of a dream.

So it continues. It's just something I have to do.

Last edited on 4/24/2018 10:48 PM by Ironbull; 24 comment(s);

Thunderdomeaveragejoe's blog

Thundersome is coming guys.
July 13 - July 16.
We are looking at a record crowd of attendees - and it is an awesome group of guys. If you believe that you're awesome, then you had better be one of them.....:)
If you are reading this, and are not yet signed up on this site, you are completely falling down on life, LOL.
If you need more info, just ask me. Also, take a look at
Be thinking about sun drenched, sweaty days full of all the wrestling you can handle, mild and fun-filled summer nights, a hot match followed by a refreshing dip, good fellowship, great music led by talented musicians, wrestling, wrestling, and even more wrestling.
Good food, good drink, good friends.....good times.
If you plan to be somewhere else, you're nuts....:)

Last edited on 4/24/2018 1:52 PM by averagejoe; 2 comment(s);

I Get the MessageSpruceman's (always wanting to wrestle/grapple) blog

OK, guys. I get the message – I don't need to be told yet again that sex appeal counts more for finding matches than everything else put together.

**Looks like the best answers I got are "Move to or visit the UK to get more action' :) Thanks for all the invites over there, guys, you're great.. Time for my fellow Americans to start emulating you.**

I was planning to remove this blog entry; but some of the messages I have received from this are so hilarious, so entertaining that I got to leave this one up a while longer. Been told so often it serves me right for not being a liar about my age as so many others allegedly do. Explains why so many guys in person suddenly look 10-20 years older than their pics or their profile age :)

Last edited on 4/24/2018 5:03 PM by Spruceman; 17 comment(s);

Your Reputationosakarob's blog

Do you have any idea what previous opponents think of you?

I don’t necessarily mean how they would describe your athleticism. Or your physical strength. Or your knowledge of holds/wrestling skills.

Instead, if asked, would your former opponents describe matches with you fondly or might they recall something during the match that made them think “NEVER AGAIN will I wrestle with this guy!”.

Provided that you are a fighter with at least one former opponent, you have – for better or for worse – a reputation. Naturally, if your previous opponents write nice Recommendations here on Meetfighters and ask for repeat matches with you, you’ve probably established positive reputational currency.

But I’ve noticed that some guys here complain that they can’t get enough matches for a variety of reasons. Usually they blame things like ageism or that too many people are preoccupied with looks over wrestling ability. But I’d like to also suggest that we all should also be mindful of the little things we do during a match that might contribute to our reputations.

Let me give you an example.

I asked a repeat wrestling friend who has far more opponents than me which of his former opponents he would never want to see again and why.

1) He explained that hygiene was his #1 deal breaker. Some guys clearly didn’t wash well enough before the match or launder their fight wardrobe often enough. In a word – the other guy stunk. Other turn-offs apparently were bad breath, poorly kept toenails, or the smell of cigarette smoke.

2) We both agreed that past opponents who disregarded safety or who didn’t seem to know how to “turn up or turn down the intensity of a match” so as to ensure fun instead of injury were not worthy of repeat matches.

3) An opponent’s charm, or lack thereof, contributes greatly to reputation. One reads so many recommendations here that gush about what a genuinely nice guy an opponent turned out to be. It's good to chat, open up a bit, and talk before, during and after the match.

4) Some guys also seem to have a highly active fantasy scripted in their minds and bring a certain weirdness to a match that can be a little bewildering if it hasn’t been shared beforehand. (One former opponent in Japan once failed to share that he wanted me to impersonate a WWII era U.S. soldier so that he could spit in my face while pinning me down! Needless to say, I ended the match I abruptly.)

Reputations can be made moment by moment and match by match. But just as in life, you only get one chance at a first impression. And that impression can often contribute profoundly to the reputation of you that gets circulated around in the wrestling/fighting community.

Last edited on 4/24/2018 7:03 AM by osakarob; 6 comment(s);

My fourth Match #1KGWF(Korean Gay Wrestling Federation)

경기장 바깥은 한껏 소란스러웠다. 몇몇 관객들이 반입이 금지되어 있는 병맥주와 토치를 들고와 경기장 주변에서 던지고 토치와 헤어스프레이로 불기둥을 만들면서 안전요원들과 청소부들이 한동안 분주히 움직였다. 라스베가스 뒷골목 평소 문을 열지 않는 이발소 지하에 입구를 둔 이 도박장은 비싼 술도, 좌석도 없었다. 원하는 선수에게 돈을 걸었고, 늘 결과는 짐작할 수 없었기에 돈을 잃은 사람은 잃은 사람대로 딴 사람은 딴 사람대로 자신의 분노 혹은 열정을 그대로 드러냈다.

"니 한국 이름이 뭐라고 했지? 그...?"

락커룸 안, 거대한 검은 머리 사내가 거칠게 호흡하며 푸쉬업을 하고 있었다. 옆에서 계산기를 들고 뭔가를 한참 두들기던 라틴계 청년이 종이를 보며 한동안 눈을 굴리더니 "Yes" 라고 환호하고선 검은 머리 사내에게 물었다.

"밤... 성은 한... 한밤"

덩치 큰 사내는 하던 잠깐 몸을 바닥에 내렸다가 대답하고는 다시 계속해서 몸을 움직였다. 5평 남짓한 락커룸에는 거울과 락커 그리고 보통 사이즈보다 한참 큰 맛사지 보드가 있었다.

"밤... 그래 밤... 보통은 한국은 중국문자(한자)를 기반으로 이름의 뜻을 쓰지? 네 이름은 무슨 뜻이야?"

"한자가 아니라 그냥 한글이야. 한국 말로 내 이름은 Mid night. 이지."

이미 사내가 흘린 땀에서 수컷의 냄새가 물씬 발산되며 좁은 락커룸을 가득 채웠다. 지하속 작은 방은 사내가 뿜어내는 열기로 후끈 달아오른 채였다.

"얘 이름을 미드나잇이라고 지었다고, 혹시 부모님이 영웅물을 좋아하셨나? (DC Comic 캐릭터)

"아냐. 엄마가 어릴 때 한밤중에 혼자 잠들었다가, 괴한에게 강간을 당해서 날 낳았데. 그 후에 엄마가 날 임신한 후에 할아버지 할머니가 '그 밤이 원수다.' 라고 하도 잔소리를 듣다가 결국 집에서 도망쳐 나와 혼자서 날 낳았는데 동사무소에서 엄마한테 내 이름을 물어봤을 때 생각나는 말이 "밤" 밖에 없더래. 그래서 내 이름이 "밤"이 된거야."

"하하하 너희 어머니 재밋으시다. 난 처음에 BooM 인줄 알았어. 니가 처음에 니 이름을 BAM이라고 썼었잖아. "

"나도 뭐 영어를 잘 몰라서 그냥 소리나는대로 썼었지."

마치 스프링이 튕겨지듯 올라올 때 강한 힘으로 자신의 몸을 들어올린 남자는 단숨이 일어나 섰다.

"슬슬 시간 됐지?"

사내는 선반위에 있는 수건으로 재빨리 흐르는 땀을 닦았다.

"너는 준비 됐어? "

큰 사내와 작은 사내는 서로를 보며 씨익 웃더니

"Over the US" 라고 외치며 서로의 손바닥을 쳤다.

경기장 한 가운데로 보라색 상하의를 맞춰입은 콧수염 난 대머리 사내가 들어왔다. 바닥을 제외한 육면체 철조망으로 쳐진 케이지 위로 마이크가 내려오자 사내는 마이크를 잡고 외쳤다.

"신사 숙녀 여러분 베틀쉽에 오신 것을 환영합니다. 드디어 오늘에 메인 이벤트 입니다. 챔피언과 도전자의 대결. 주종과 비주종의 대결, 원숙함과 젊음의 대결. Golden VS BAM!!!!"

"처음 소개해 드릴 선수는 여러분들이 사랑하시는 챔피언, 미국의 상징, 압도적인 힘과 멋진 외모의 소유자 Mr Golden~!"

경기장 입구에 스포트 라이트가 비치며 짧은 머리를 뒤로 넘긴 건장한 미국 청년이 등장했다. 190을 훌쩍 넘어서는 키에 팔뚝에 붙은 이두는 여간한 어른의 얼굴을 가릴만큼 컸다. 푸른색 포징웨어와 흰색 부츠를 신은 다리는 허벅지가 채 붙지 않을만큼 큰 다리 근육탓에 벌려져 있었다. 사람들은 그의 등장에 환호하며 한껏 손을 내밀어 붉게 상기된 피부를 뒤덮은 잘 태닝된 그의 몸을 만졌다. 골든은 그런 사람들을 지나 케이지 안 링으로 입장했다.

"이에 맞서는 도전자. 혜성처럼 등장한 신인, 그리고 배틀쉽 최초로 챔피언 리그에 도전하는 도전자, 미스테리한 검은 눈에 매력적인 섹시함의 소유자..Mr~ BAM~"

천천히 등장한 골든과는 달리 밤은 링까지 뛰어 나갔다. 순간 그의 돌발적인 행동에 스포트라이트가 그의 인형을 잠깐 놓쳤다. 입구에 다다를 쯤 다시 비춰진 밤은 눈위로 검게 색을 칠해 마치 그린호넷에 등장했던 이소룡의 마스크를 쓴 것 같았다. 검은 포징웨어만을 걸치고 맨발로 뛰어나간 그를 향해 관객들은 다시금 숨겨왔던 맥주병을 던졌지만, 미쳐 그에게 닿지 못했다.

"하핫 오늘도 유명세를 치루는군요 Mr BAM. 오늘 시합에 어떻게 임할 생각인가요?"

사회자의 질문을 받은 밤은 자신을 향해 야유하는 관객들을 쓱 둘러보곤

"내가 어지간히 싫은가 본데, 그래도 어쩌겠어. 내가 이기게 되어 있어."

라며 어깨를 의쓱하곤 빙긋이 웃었다. 순간 얘기를 듣던 골든의 손에 들려진 사과조각이 바사삭 찌그러지며 길게 즙을 내곤 한줌이 되었다.

"너도 주스로 만들어줄께."

골든의 퍼포먼스에 한층 더 고취된 관객들은 한층 더 목소리를 높여 "USA"를 외치기 시작했다.

" 자 그러면 운명을 건 대결을 시작합니다. 모두 준비 되셨습니까? 시작합니다.!!!!"

PS - 새로운 등장인물입니다. 이 인물의 이야기는 먼 타국 미국에서 시작합니다. 새로운 인물 BAM에게도 많은 관심 부탁드립니다.

Last edited on 4/22/2018 11:59 AM by recuo; 2 comment(s);

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