BG East’s Ronny Pearl is a compelling character. I’m insanely in love with his look. He’s solid as granite, with classic proportions that bring to my mind images of Steve Reeves from his Hercules movies. But rather than a 1960’s vibe, Ronny exudes a very strong late 1980’s, very early 1990’s mainstream pro wrestling look, with the armbands tied around his bulging, vascular upper biceps, flashy and relatively demure pro trunks, and matching knee pads and boots. From behind he’s got a classic V-shaped back, pointing like an arrow at a mouthwatering, more-than-a-couple-handfuls of sculpted, muscled ass. Of course the hair is nothing if not transported directly off of an 80’s heavy metal guitarist. He’s already told a story that fascinates me before his opponent, fucking unbelievable freak of nature Cybertron, strolls up to the ring.
I’d buy a Ronny Pearl Muscle Showcase DVD in a heartbeat (hey, why don’t we ever see those anymore?!). Fuck, if he was in the market, I’d pay to slather him in honey and lick every bit of it off his naked body. He’s got a face that balances equal parts “beautiful” and “handsome,” with lips that I can think of no other word to describe other than luscious. Honestly, I’d pop a load just watching Ronny pump up his muscles, stretch his stunning body, and run through some drills in the ring, which the camera watches him do lingeringly to start his debut match on Ringwars 21. He’s sold me within seconds.
Then the part-man, part-machine muscle beast lustful sadist Cyberton rings the bell, climbs into the ring, and beats the living shit out of him! Ronny toughs it out beautifully early going. He’s literally picked up off his feet and hurled like a sack of groceries across the ring, but the fierce young hero peels himself off the mat, pounds his gorgeous pecs to psych himself up, and charges back into the mountain of a man staring down at him. When he makes the superhuman villain come to a grunting halt with a gorgeous side headlock, there’s a little moment of pure heaven. The babyface squeezes with such earnestness, such delightful intensity, grinding the masked heel’s face into that pumped, puffed up pec. He even owns the giant for a while, dancing out of reach of several counters and deftly slapping that muscle-popping side headlock back on, jerking his head to the side to whisk the stray strands of his long, curly locks out of his face. The classic hero ventures a subtle, self-satisfied smile for beginning to tame the superhuman/inhuman beast.
The total quantity of offense Ronny puts on the board turns out to be relatively token in the grand scheme of things, because Cyberton is not about to be denied. To say that the masked villain’s offense is devastating would be the understatement of the year. He pounds and pummels, slams and slaps, wrenches and racks my honey-dipped babyface hero with a relentlessness that is awe-inspiring. Seriously, this match makes me cringe like few pro wrestling matches do for the sheer quantity of brutality. Cybertron laughs a lot, too. It’s a creepy, deep, bass laugh that comes from a comic book (and is sold beautifully). But it’s Ronny’s storytelling that keeps me gasping and fully aroused from start to finish. Ronny’s earnestness, his determinedness, his pec-pounding self-psyching-up roars start to cave under the onslaught. He grows quieter at first, bouncing off the mat with his face twisted in agony, sucking down the suffering in silence, struggling to steel himself against hopelessness. A little farther down his path of destruction, and he’s gasping loudly, the guttural sounds of shock and self-doubt popping out of his lungs almost involuntarily. But it’s when Ronny has stared too long into the face of despair that I absolutely go insane for him, when his grunts turn to pleas, and his pleas rise an octave, and his anguish turns to wails of desperation.
It’s hard to tell if the sounds coming out of his mouth are actually asking the question, “Why?!!!” but that question (with it’s many exclamation points) is delivered nonetheless with crystal clarity in the arch of his back as he twists his tormented spine off the canvas after still another airborne bodyslam. His gorgeous, full lips go thin as his jaw gapes open wide, his face twisted in sobbing terror and exquisite agony. If the man-machine gave him enough time to breathe between body-crushing, high impact, strength move after strength move, I’d be tempted to expect to hear Ronny submit about 50 times in this match. But he doesn’t, whether because his brutal opponent never grants him enough air in his lungs to form the words, or because this beautiful, babyface, rookie hunk is just that damn deep-down tough, I can’t say for sure.
His long locks pop loose from his hair tie and begin to plaster to his face and back with copious sweat born of terror. His wrestling mag coverboy good looks are pounded into one long series of ugly torments. By the time Cyberton is done with him, Ronny is a pile of wasted muscle and hair in the middle of the ring, motionless, crushed in body and soul, and escaping to the nightmares of his unconsciousness which could never be as terrifying as the waking nightmare of being “welcomed” to BG East by Cybertron. This valiant, sincere babyface rook was clearly a complete fool to have bothered showing up, and an even bigger fool to have resisted the temptation to sprint out of the ring at his first glimpse of Cybertron’s approach.
And I absolutely love him for it! I desperately hope we see him take another stab at ring glory, because he’s completely captured my imagination (particularly stretched out like a turkey dinner in a sickeningly sweet spine cracking over the knee backbreaker!). I have to guess this was not exactly what Ronny Pearl had in mind when he pictured his triumphant debut at BG East, but it’s an incredibly compelling passion play that elevates him to the standing of a doomed hero of a classic Greek tragedy. And I hear that a honey-dipped tongue bath from an amorous blogger does wonders for the aches and pains of an epic pro wrestling ring spanking….