BG East catalog 114.2 dropped just before the end of July, and check out the crotch-stirring, heart melting coverboy shot of the bulging, blond beauty Biff Farrell on their webpage. I believe that is the complete and official entry for “boy next door” in the OED.

There’s a lot of love in this relatively small decimal point of a catalog. I’m sure I’ll talk about much more of it as I soak it in, but let me just start by saying Biff Farrell is making a hard, hard, hard to refute case for climbing up from the runner-up spot this year and grabbing the title of top babyface with both hands. From start to finish in all three matches in his Wrestler Spotlight feature, Biff wears the stars and stripes of your bulging, blue-eyed beefcake babyface dreams. I thought Biff was cottoning on to the temptations of the dark side in his magnificent work against Joe Mazetti in The Comeback 2. But Biff is back to being earnest as hell, with a full throated commitment to believe in hard work and will power as the antidote to any underhanded shenanigans from pro wrestling opponents. In other words, big Biff gets sliced up like the tasty side of beef he is.

Again, I’m sure I’ll have plenty more to say about other matches, but let’s start at the very beginning (a very good place to start). I’ve not appreciated Kelly King the way that, clearly, I should have. Fuck, he’s knee-wobblingly pretty, paired with a strong hit of ball-clawingly dastardly. What a fucking sensational combination! Before the action starts, Biff acknowledges Kelly’s extensive knee brace. “I thought we were going to have a match today, but by the look of it, it looks like your knee is bothering you,” he expresses human decency and natural concern. “It’s all right,” Kelly shrugs, warming up, leaving it a little unclear whether said knee may be just a bit tender by the look his stretches. Biff gives credit for his opponent’s grit to work through the apparent injury, and he promises to “take it easy” on the knee. They shake hands, all sportsmanly. “I like the respect,” Kelly states, appreciating Biff’s sincere concern and sense of fair play.

Biff, Biff, Biff (smh). Holy fuck, does Kelly beat the living shit out of him.  Right out of the gate he nearly snaps him off at the elbow in a nasty armbar, forcing Biff bent forward gingerly. “What do you say, punk, huh?” Kelly demands, his voice dripping with contempt. “The knee fine, eh?” he asks. “I… I guess so,” Biff chokes on the pain.

With the studied expertise of an experienced pro heel, Kelly opens up a ton of distance right off the bat. He’s half a step faster and looks about twice as confident as he takes possession of big Biff’s bulging body. He goes for early submission holds with deliberateness and a strong sense of inevitability. But when the tough babyface repeatedly refuses to give, Kelly slams him to the mat and sadistically grinds the metalwork of his knee brace digging deep into Biff’s throat. “How does that brace feel?,” the heel smirks.

I realize I’ve already said this, but I have to repeat myself here: Oh, fuck! How many ways, how many times can a heartless pro heel exploit the foreign object of hard plastic and metal wrapped around one knee to fuck up his opponent? I lose count. Straight up enhanced knee lifts to the gut. Knee drops across the throat, pecs, limbs, back, etc., etc., etc. “How does that knee brace feel now?” Kelly laughs at one point, dragging this dazed slab of beef off the mat to kneel at his feet. “You’re so cheap with that thing!” Biff protests weakly, on his knees, staring at his opponent’s crotch. “You’re the dumb one who decided to get into the ring with me!” Kelly laughs, abruptly swinging his leg wide and pounding the brace into Biff’s beautiful face. Biff’s head snaps to the side sickeningly a fraction of a second before he flies limply across the ring.

It’s a mauling, don’t get me wrong. But it has more of a feel of a 2-on-1 handicap match than a strict squash: Biff versus Kelly and his knee brace.  All of Biff’s gorgeous, extravagant muscle and beauty is absolutely put through the meat grinder, and as a fan of Biff’s gorgeous, muscled bubble butt, I’m enthralled with the way Kelly shows off the babyface from every beautiful angle.

But my all time favorite moment of this match comes after Kelly has driven Biff past the point of despair, full speed ahead into sheer panic. Repeated neck breakers make big Biff scream, “Oh, God!” and tap out over and over again. So Kelly ties him up nice and tight, his left arm pinned behind him in an armbar, his right arm similarly twisted up behind him and sandwiched snugly, high up between Kelly’s meaty thighs. “Too bad you can’t tap out now,” Kelly laughs out loud, adamantly refusing to acknowledge Biff’s screams of submission choked through tears of agony. “Who’s the man!!!?” Kelly suddenly demands. “Tell me who the man is!!!” he orders, leaning in to listen for complete humiliation to come dripping off of Biff’s lips. Our doomed hero holds out while, but finally, pleadingly cries, “You’re the man!” And then this sublime look of visceral pleasure washes over Kelly’s face. As if surprised by just how much pleasure it gives him to hear Biff’s terrorized submission, the heel whispers, sincerely, “Sweet!”

One of the other aspects of this match that catches my attention and leaves me wanting to see more like this is Kelly’s interactions with the camera. Unlike mainstream pro, we don’t often see either opponent in a homoerotic wrestling match really acknowledge, in the moment, the camera crew (or the audience, for that matter). I get why. There’s an intimacy and immediacy about it, when wrestlers tuck in as if this is some private grudge, as if no one else in the world matters. But at a couple of points, with Biff wailing and kicking and rolling in agony at his feet, Kelly stands up and flexes for the camera, literally instructing the crew on the best angle to document his magnificent domination. “Get a shot of that!,” Kelly demands, flashing his tanned, bulging double biceps that put all of Biff’s muscle to shame. Later, he’s literally standing on Biff’s face, leaning across the top rope with a leisurely smile for the camera. “Ah, yeah, that’s pretty!” he plays to the camera as if chatting with me and you on this side of the screen.

This could easily be overdone. It could get way too self-conscious, easily a bit hokey. Rock Hard Wrestling has played with pulling down the 4th wall, mostly successfully, but I just don’t think I see that often at BG East. But I’d like to see more, more acknowledgement of the audience, more interaction with the camera’s eye view. Get us right there in the ring with you. I fucking love how Kelly pulls this off subtly, and as dazzlingly pretty as coverboy Biff is, Kelly’s charisma and eye contact make me swoon for him by the time this is all over with. He’s got a classic lusciously pretty, bad boy profile, and the way he plays with the camera sells like he knows exactly how much you both hate him and absolutely worship him for being a vicious prick.

To those who’ve already been Kelly King fans awhile, scoot over, because I’m climbing on that bus. He can break whatever rules he wants to, just so long as he keeps winking at me and chatting me up right in the middle of brutalizing another beefy babyface.