I’m not the sort of histrionic character that runs around pointing fingers and calling people liars. But I’ve got my finger pointed decisively at the boys at BG East at this very moment, and I’m calling them liars, because there’s just no way in God’s green earth that Duncan Thomas from Boston to Austin 2 measured in at 5’8″ and 162 pounds. They’ve listed his opponent, Jay Grady, at a much more likely 5’10” and 180 pounds, and seeing these two boys face-off illustrates the undeniable fact that Thomas was notably taller (not by a little) and almost certainly heavier (100% of it hard, striated, sliced to shreds muscle).
I remember seeing this match hit the website as a new release 9 years ago. Picking up my recent theme of the relative allure of “pretty,” I readily admit that it was Duncan’s tanned, toned classically gorgeous body and pretty-boy handsome face that caught my eye. Anachronistically, I’d say he’s got a distinctly Henry Cavill look about him. I don’t remember, however, why I didn’t snap up Boston to Austin 2 that very moment. Perhaps I was paralyzed by the devastating beauty in Fantasymen 22, which was released at the same time (damn, that is one stunning collection of muscle men!). In any case, Duncan Thomas made a big impression, but I didn’t actually see him in action…
…until BGE posted his match as a video-on-demand in the Arena last week. I was like a cat watching a piece of string being dangled before my eyes. I was mesmerized, helpless to stop myself. I clicked “buy,” and then hunkered down to compare what I imagined this match to be with the reality.
I was delighted to discover that Duncan is no delicate pretty boy poser. He’s pretty, sure. But somehow, I couldn’t imagine calling him “pretty” to his face. As soon as he opens his mouth and that deep base voice with a rope-’em ‘n tag-’em Texas twang comes snarling out, “pretty” just falls off the table. He’s a cocky, supremely confident, strutting son-of-a-bitch from the Lone Star state with the swagger to suggest that all those eye-catching muscles serve some purpose other than being adored. When Jay walks in and Duncan flips into a rock solid handstand Capoeira-style strike pose, the message is crystal clear: this is not some go-go boy just yanked off the dance floor.
Duncan physically dominates in a way that drives home my point that someone’s measuring tape and scale were badly mis-calibrated when they sized him up at 5’8″ and 160 pounds. No doubt about it, Jay is a hot little scrapper who seems to genuinely delight in the prospect of turning this into a hunk bash. But Duncan throws his weight around and muscles the high-n-tight brawler into one compromised position after another. Nine times out ten, Duncan simply snaps his massive arms around Jay’s head and parades him around the mat, threatening to snap body parts off at will. In fact, for his flashy start, I’m a little disappointed to see no more creative fare from the tanned adonis. I get the impression of a martial artist just barely restraining himself from landing a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s face, so perhaps it’s the format of the mat battle that makes Duncan appear a little less than innovative throughout most of the match.
But the final fall in the best of 5 finally shows what all those highly coordinated, heavily trained muscles can offer. Systematically picking apart his opponent, Duncan unleashes slams, scissors and a final, decisive choke that reminds me, once again, that I wouldn’t dare call this hunk “pretty” to his face.
But what makes this match completely worth being the impulse purchase it was, is Duncan’s smart-ass mouth. I’m not a fan of overly misogynistic themes in my wrestling, but there’s something deeply arousing when Duncan looks like he’s about to rip Jay’s head off, and he snarls, “I can break your neck, or you can slap out like the little girl you are.” In that deep-chested Texas drawl, Duncan’s threat is completely believable, as illustrated by the fact that Jay almost instantly gasps out a desperate submission, proving Duncan’s point. With some hot verbal taunting that brings to my mind the opening salvo by Rusty Stevens upon facing off with Mitch Colby, Duncan paces around Jay after the submission, explaining, “I’ll give you some time for some beauty sleep. You need it.” If that line came from some muscle jobber, it would be such an eye-rolling cliche’. From this aggressive, confident Southern stud, though, it’s fantastic psychological domination. He can kick Jay’s military ass, humiliate him by questioning his masculinity, and then remind him that Duncan is heads and tails more beautiful to look at, to boot. Holy hell!
Best line of the match, hands down, has to be when they’re about to lock up after another submission, and Duncan spits out, “You wrestle like my sister…. that bitch!” Again, you have to superimpose a deep Texas drawl on this text, and then sit back and delight in the take-no-prisoners, smarter than your average bear banter that rolls off of Duncan’s tongue like a seasoned pro. In the end, Duncan kicks Jay when he’s down, and then tops him off with an inverted reverse bearhug into a skull rattling piledriver, delivering a COMPLETELY gratuitous splash while Jay is still clutching his throbbing skull defenselessly.
And see, I’ve made it to the end of this post without even mentioning his stunningly sculpted legs, fantastically asymmetrical pec development (an archer?), and his gorgeously shapely athletic ass and slice of Texas beef hanging from his crotch filling those unbelievably tight trunks to capacity! That’s got to prove it: this Texas one-hit-wonder is absolutely not just about “the pretty.”
P.S. If one of the BG East boys gets sent to my house to beat my ass for calling them liars, can I put in a request for it to be Denny Cartier? In his white trunks with blue piping? With his overnight bag?