Rumble Again

As I’ve mentioned, I was honored and overwhelmed to be asked by Sir Dark to help out behind the scenes with his production of Watchfighters Rumble 2. It’s impossible to convey the vibe in that NYC hotel room packed with 32 smoking hot wrestlers itching for their shot at plowing their way through that deep, deep field in order to come out on top. Part of the genius of a spectacle like this is you’re almost guaranteed to have at least one WF favorite (or many more) in the mix. Honestly, it was a large hotel room, particularly for Manhattan, but there was just no room to move without bumping into one hot wrestling hunk after another in various states of undress. Not that I mind bumping into hot wrestling hunks, mind you. But then Sir Dark put a camera in my hands and told me to me get down to the business of capturing this submission-elimination rumble on video. Fuck, talk about feeling torn. A huge part of me just wanted to eye fuck this boiling brood of muscle and ego churning on the mat in front of me. But Sir Dark also terrifies me just a little, so I was also feeling extra motivated to do my very best to capture on camera something that did justice to the incredibly sexy spectacle playing out in that unsuspecting corner suite.

Well, the fruit of my labor and, much more importantly, the brainchild of Sir Dark and the incredibly hot wrestling of 32 grapplers has been revealed, and you can now stream Watchfighters Rumble 2 (Parts 1 and 2) and see how we all did. To be clear, I was behind one of two cameras that day, the other being manned by cousin Scooter. By the time we pushed record, it had already been absolute chaos, which, true, is Sir Dark’s brand. Late arrivals, wrestlers shoulder-to-shoulder gearing up, some pre-match promos… so much going on, and I desperately wanted to savor every single thing at the same time. Just getting 32 rowdy wrestlers to pipe down for the start of the match was drama, but finally, with Sir Dark running the show, one by one, the wrestlers took to the mats, vying to be the last man standing.

Kicking the melee off were KC Ryder and Mickey Knoxx. KC is a total babe who I got to watch wrestle for the first time last year at Wrestlefest Live ’25. I love his energy and that viking marauder hotness, but if you know me at all, you know my eyes were glued to Mickey. Fuck, that man is hot! KC bullies Mickey with an opening side headlock, and like a fucking boss, Mickey hip tosses Ragnar and mounts him like he’s finally had enough of getting called a jobber. If you’re watching the video, this camera angle you see at the opening is mine, and you can practically see my ambivalence, torn between capturing the entire scene and wanting to center ever second on Mickey’s magnificent ass.

Mickey mean (regardless how he’s doing in the match) is the energy I’m trying to channel for 2026. He headscissors KC, sneers into the viking’s pained eyes, and slaps him in the face. And then starts wave after wave of wrestlers clocking in for their turn at stirring the pot and doing their best to clear the field with submissions. Seon Cruz is entrant #3, and instantly, the energy level slams all the way to 11! Whenever there is an odd number of wrestlers on the mat, someone is getting double-teamed, which is fucking drama. The pup is all long limbs and aggressive, with devastating holds, but even behind that mask, he absolutely always looks like he’s loving life like a dog with a new bone.

Rick Roma was counted in as entrant #4. As I mentioned in my review of Rick and Sir Dark’s tag team match at Live, Rick is passionate and fierce, though I think his pro-style fills a ring better than the mat. Whenever there’s four wrestlers on the mat at the same time, the action almost always plays out with pairing off into parallel play. Seon and Mickey go at each other with a hot passion, while Rick looks like he’s trying to take advantage of the fact that KC’s been on the mat from the start. There’s a super sexy beat where Seon and KC strike side-by-side leg nelson’s on their targets in this fun, spontaneous way that’s becomes a gorgeous work of art.

In terms of my camera work, I did my best not to show too much favoritism to Mickey’s award winning ass. You’ll have to let me know if you see my biases in terms of frame and focus. But, then again, a whole lot of fresh competitors immediately tucked in to get a piece of Mickey’s delicious hotness, so I had plenty of excuses. Dante Lesen, who I interviewed about three years ago, clocked into the scene with the vibe of the giant at the top of the beanstalk who gets off on crushing little guys into jelly. The big boy end of the roster starts seriously crowding the mat when Wrestlefest Rumble 1 champ, Kayden Keller, stomps onto the scene as entrant #6. With Dante and Kayden in the 6’2/6’3 height range, figuring out how to frame the hotness in the camera lens got seriously challenging. Tall boys standing, wrestlers flat on the mat and stacked on top of each other… where the fuck do I point the camera!?! So much fucking hot drama! It’s a full 6 minutes in when the first submission goes down with, of course, Kayden wringing it out of the unlucky first out Seon with a brutal camel clutch. Still, so much fucking wrestling was left on the mat.

I feel like warning the wrestlers on the mat, distracted with trying to top each other off, that the shit is about to go down when Bobby Carter is counted in. Bobby is this fucking wall of muscle and take-no-prisoner’s aggression that instantly gets me hard (which makes paying attention to the camera work challenging). Bobby’s sapphire blue posing trunks have no chance of keeping his gorgeous glutes corralled, and he has this magnificent way of not giving a fuck as he’s focused like a laser on serving up hot suffering. I sort of want to resent him for being the one to eliminate Mickey with that savage ball claw, but I can’t pull it off. Bobby’s too fucking hot and entertaining for me to hate on. Yet another tall boy heavyweight, Dynamo, is counted in around the 9-minute mark, and fuck, it starts to look like an avalanche when, in various combinations, Dante, Kayen, and Dynamo start cooperating. KC is the first victim of the heavyweight cabal who finally eliminate the wrung out viking. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat and looking hungry to make mischief, Drake Marcos is counted in and there’s a palpable shift in focus as he, Rick, Bobby, and Dynamo all descend like a swarm on Kayden. Fuck, I never get tired of seeing big, brutal bad boy Kayden getting wrung out, and the quadruple-team absolutely fucks him up until the Rumble 1 champ is humiliatingly dethroned, tapping out in panic.

If you think eliminating Kayden might level the field for the middleweights, think again. Wrestlefest Live ’25 champ, Tarz Lando clocks in, and raw, brute force, heavyweight muscle keeps telling the story on the mat. Fuck, that muscle beast is a force of nature! Tarz crushes the fuck out of two or three stunned opponents at a time, starting to seriously clear the table wringing submissions out of Drake and Dynamo in quick succession. Bobby also taps in a foldover pin with those magnificent cheeks sadly being eliminated. The next entrant, Barrett, barrels onto the scene, and Tarz almost immediately makes him regret it. Cameraman extraordinaire Miles X clocks in and makes the dangerous calculation to team with big Tarz to beat the shit out of Barrett‘s balls, which I don’t think is exactly the worst situation Barrett could imagine for himself, to be honest. And then, at the 16-minute mark, a total wildcard I never saw coming is counted in, Chris Collins.

I’ve seen Chris online before, but holy fuck, in-person he’s both more gorgeous and more diminutive than on screen. Seriously, he looks like a lamb to the slaughter. Like, honestly, I was literally feeling this impulse to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and yank him to safety before he could get broken to pieces. But then the sexy little minx marks out who he’s going to go at first, and it’s… Tarz Lando. Holy fucking shit! The chemistry between massive, burly muscle beast Tarz and petite, lean and limber Chris takes me completely by surprise. Watching the video gives me exactly the feel I had recording the scene at the time. Chris fearlessly swarming all over Tarz is fucking hot as hell. Even Tarz doesn’t seem to be quite able to believe it, as he tries repeatedly, and fails repeatedly, to yank the “spider monkey” off his back. Genuinely, Chris absolutely shocks by squeezing a submission out of Tarz with bodyscissors, and then he won’t let go! Like, Tarz is trying to crawl off the scene, and Chris will not let him! The ferocious little ferret is all accelerator, no brakes, and he’s got a taste for devouring beef! No shit, he squeezes a second shocking submission out of Tarz with those gorgeous, lean legs clamped around the big man’s head!

It’s masked mayhem for the next three entrants to the stunning drama. This is my first look at Alex the Great, Masked Machine, and Red Adrian who, in that order, bring fresh muscle and intensity to the mat. Alex immediately goes after Chris, and I can’t decide if this is genius strategy going after the spunky little spider monkey who can wring two submissions out of Tarz Londo, or just opportunistic because Alex absolutely dwarfs and dominates him. Masked Machine lands like a cruise missile locked onto Barrett’s balls, and even Barrett’s notorious ball bashing tolerance crumbles, making him tap out of contention. Red Adrian shows up with that mask and those fucking gargantuan pecs and, fuck, you’ve just got to pause and admire those slabs of meat! Someone could feast for days on those pecs! Chris’ face absolutely disappears, buried deep between Red Adrian’s mountainous pecs, and I’m not sure if he just might drown way down there!

So, part 1 of the Rumble wraps up with Chris Collins, Masked Machine, Alex and Great, and Red Adrian on the mat and a whole lot of other hopefuls slinking off with their bodies and egos bruised and their hopes to climb out of this pit on top dashed. And half the field is fresh, untested, and chomping at the bit to get their shot in the second half of Wrestlefest Rumble! Even though I was there in person, it’s still stunning to watch this play out on the screen, with about thirty mini-dramas, 16 wrestling hunks (in just this first half of the roster), and 12 eliminations leaving bruised egos piled up off camera in that shoulder-to-shoulder packed NYC hotel room. Honestly, several of my favorite beats from the entire rumble played out in part 1, but the second half the roster featured still more of my long-time favorite wrestling hunks dialing up the drama, spicing up the action with even more erotic twists and turns, and leaving exactly one fan-favorite wrestler outlasting everyone to become the new Wrestlefest Rumble champ.

Happy Place

I often describe myself as “not a convention guy.” This characterization is based on having had to attend work-related conventions in my non-wrestling-related career, and pretty much hating them. I may have even feigned sickness halfway through one work convention in order to justify going home early. I was a super shy kid and grew into a relatively introverted adult who can, when needed, socialize and schmooze, but it’s not my happy place. Having arrived in Manhattan for my third Wrestlefest NYC and my fourth Wrestlefest overall (also, super fond memories of my first Wrestlefest in Toronto), I’m having to rethink that picture of myself I’ve had for decades of being “not a convention guy.” Maybe it was less about me just not liking the forced socialization of conventions, and more about me just not enjoying socializing with my non-wrestling-infatuated work colleagues. Because walking off the train and into my hotel and finding the lobby packed with dozens of wrestlers I’ve enjoyed watching on video and socializing with online and at past fests, it turns out, this is my happy place.

Making small talk doesn’t feel like a chore here as I’m mixing and mingling at Wrestlefest like it normally does. Running into wrestlers who read the blog is a pretty good icebreaker, of course, but I’m pretty sure it’s more than that. There isn’t that sense of pressure I often feel weighing me down in a lot of large social gatherings, where I’m constantly assessing how quickly I can bring a conversation to a close without seeming too rude. I love talking to all of these beautiful men as deep into wrestling as I am. I’m not worrying so much about being noticed checking out the bevvy of hot guys absolutely everywhere, because we’re all doing it, and it’s really the raison d’être of 500+ gay wrestlers assembling in one place, right? And I just don’t have to burn any of that mental energy I spend in other settings trying to not let my thoughts play across my face when I’m deep into picturing what the hot guys around me would look like wrestling. It’s literally why we’re all here.

Being at the Kick-Off Party last night sort of brought this home to me in a fresh way. Probably a dozen times or more I locked eyes with different guys as we acknowledged that we were both checking someone else out, and we just smiled in acknowledgement. And I didn’t have to try to manage anyone else’s implicit homophobia. No need to try to sooth anyone else’s sexual insecurities by me looking away and pretending I wasn’t just eye fucking Beau Jordan’s ass and picturing him wrestling in that mesh singlet he was wearing last night. We were all eye fucking Beau Jordan’s ass and picturing him wrestling in that mesh singlet. He was wearing that mesh singlet so that we’d all be eye fucking him and picturing him wrestling, I’m pretty sure. Of course, part of what I’m describing is just being in queer spaces, but I think it’s more than that. There are plenty of queer spaces that don’t feel at home to me like this does. I’ve almost reached the conclusion that it’s not that I’m socially inept and still carrying around that awkwardly shy kid from my childhood making me count the seconds until I can get out of mixing and mingling. I’ve just spent most of my life mixing and mingling with the wrong crowds.

I wonder how I might have a completely different impression of myself if I’d grown into myself under different social conditions – if I’d had access to spaces where what I was really passionate about was validated, rather than all those things that it was always assumed I should be passionate about, but really wasn’t (sports, cars, girls, etc.). I mean, I know that there are plenty of gay wrestlers into those other things in addition to wrestling, but just talking about myself here, I wonder if I’d have a whole different impression of myself and the way I navigate the world if, much earlier in life, I’d even known that spaces like Wrestlefest could exist in my world. I’ve written before about noticing my sense of self changing since getting involved in meet-up wrestling. I feel more attractive. More assertive Stronger and more capable in general. And last night at the Wrestlefest Kick-Off Party, it also occurred to me that I’m happy to be swimming in this sea of wrestlers of all shapes and sizes wearing anything everything from thongs and jock straps to trunks to ass-less singlets to street clothes. And, did I mention that fucking sexy mesh singlet that Beau Jordan wore?

Another thing I’ve learned about myself is that I never can remember to take pics at these shoulder-to-shoulder hot wrestler mixers. I just can’t bring myself to put a screen between me and the thrilling experience of being there and shouting over the din with friends and checking out this gorgeous assembly of wrestlers. I put out feelers to a few of those gorgeous wrestlers who did take pics, and I want to thank Barrett and Sir Dark for letting me drop them here to try to illustrate, just a little, the joy and drama and wave upon wave of wrestler eye candy that, it turns out, is my happy place.