An email exchange with a reader recently brought to mind an early pro-wrestling crush I had in the mid-90’s. Bring on the hot, hard, 6’3″, proud mulleteer, the Missouri Tiger himself: Jeff Gaylord.
Gaylord wrestled in World Class Championship Wrestling and the United States Wrestling Association, and when I was watching him, he was frequently tag teaming with Jeff Jarrett (which fueled many a sexual fantasy of mine).
He teetered on the knife’s edge of good and evil, which was a particularly erotic role to play, I think. At times he played it straight up the middle, relying on his atypical size and strength advantage to lay the hurt on most anyone he faced. At times, he edged over into the bully territory, taking unnecessary shortcuts and perhaps reveling just a tad too much in the joy of inflicting pain and humiliation.
I never saw him actually turn heel, though he may have done that at some point in his wrestling career (probably did, I bet). But there was always something of barely contained danger about him that was hot, hot, hot. Dancing on the tightrope between good guy and bad guy, he managed to toy with my emotions, test my loyalties, and leave me feeling that much more at his mercy as he climbed into the ring, keeping me guessing up the last possible moment whether he’d be the hard-toned sportsman or spitting with cocky contempt.
I haven’t thought about Jeff Gaylord and his fantasy pecs for years now. Being reminded of him, I looked up what I could find, only to discover that he’s serving/recently served prison time for several bank robberies. I suppose that’s one answer to the question of which side of the knife’s edge of good guy/bad guy he finally fell on in real life, at least. As much as I’m a sucker for a beefy, muscle stud bad boy, Jeff’s rap sheet doesn’t really enhance his appeal at all. I think I prefer to hold him in my imagination as that ambivalent, big-time bruiser, flexing his mountainous pecs, towering over his opponents, and satisfyingly kicking ass, whatever his motivation might have been.
Sidelineland 
Sorry about the bank robbery thing–I hate finding out bad things about people I like.
Yeah, it sounds like a troubled life for the big man. As much as I like the fun fantasy of heroes and villains in the ring, I really only hope for good things for all the athletes working so hard for our entertainment.