I realize that I’m not the only fan who swoons when gorgeous Jake Jenkins climbs through the ropes barefoot. I have previously compared my reaction to his barefoot pro wrestling matches to my recurring intrusive fantasies starring Kevin von Erich. Visually, there’s a stunning perfection to JJ, typically in particularly shiny, sensationally snug gear, breathtakingly beautiful, fit as a fucking fiddle, and hopping on the balls of his feet. He looks pretty much the same as when he steps onto the mats, though his gear isn’t always quite so shiny. But it’s a totally different Jake Jenkins who climbs into the BGE wrestling ring, than the Jake Jenkins who steps into the Gazebo, or the Matroom, or the Sun Room, or just walks onto the mats in the wide open BGE backyard. On the mats, JJ is a fierce competitor with the amateur wrestling cred, stunning speed, and arsenal of holds to more often than not claw a victory out of the hide and dignity of his opponent. In the ring, not so much.
Of course, it’s not only JJ who suffers the curse of excelling in one genre, at the expense of getting consistently demolished in another. In fact, it’s a rare wrestler who enjoys equal success and command of both the pro wrestling ring and the mats at BG East. Perhaps the most notable exception to the rule is JJ’s former buddy who he traveled from RHW to BGE’s shores with those many years ago, Austin Cooper. While Coop has plenty of ring humiliations in his catalog, he has managed to transcend the curse in his long and storied career, and his heel turn has transformed him into a total bad ass threat anywhere and everywhere. To be honest, I think it would be epic to see Coop and JJ square off against one another in the BGE ring these days, having come so far, and having evolved in skill and reputation. Of course, if that were to happen, with the current state of the curse still owning JJ, it would be a sensationally sexy and total demolition. And I’d pay premium to watch it!
I think Jake hung up his shiny briefs a while ago, though, so we only have access to matches he recorded before retirement. His most recent release was against babyface beefcake Braden Charron in Backbusters 2 earlier this Autumn. It’s from early-career JJ, before he had his gorgeous, bold pec tat. He’s poured his mouthwatering ass into metallic gold trunks. He’s taped his ankles, for no obvious reason other than to call attention to the fact that he’s barefoot and so sensationally von Erich-esque. He’s a cocky smart ass when he bounces into the ring and literally dances circles around his musclehead opponent flexing in the mirror. Maybe JJ read Braden’s reviews as a musclebound jobber. Unfortunately, JJ apparently was not reading his own reviews, or else he’d know what was in store for him.
“Looks like we’ve got a big guy over here,” Jake monologues, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet. He literally pokes Braden in the back playfully before bouncing away. “Are you too slow to keep up?” On paper, fuck yes, I’d say Jake could submit this prettyboy muscle brute in seconds. JJ could finish him five different ways in his sleep. He knows how to put on a hurt, and he could easily run circles around big Braden for ages without taking a hit… if it weren’t for that fucking curse.
Instead, Braden suddenly twists around and catches JJ across the throat with a near-decapitating clothesline. Fuck, he goes down hard. “I’ll show you how slow I am,” Braden growls, as he begins to dish out a stunning squash that seriously needs to show up in the Bestie nominations.
It’s all power moves, all the time. He catapults the barefoot beauty corner to corner to corner, pounding the living shit out of his luscious little body. Braden scoops him up in the loveliest of cradles across the bodybuilder’s huge chest, holding him there, in total control, displaying the contrast of his gym bunny beefcake physique in charge of JJ’s lithe, flexible, coverboy body. Effortlessly, he pounds Jake down into an OTK backbreaker, only to instantly scoop him back up across his chest, parade him around, and pound him back down across his knee again.
Jake’s agony is palpable. His tautly muscled body twitches and arches and flails across the mat. When Braden stretches him out in a bow-and-arrow, JJ’s beautiful bulge quivers. Braden lets the jobber climb up his bodybuilder physique like a ladder, because Jake can barely stand under his own steam from the musclebound beating he takes. When Braaden scoops Jake up in a bearhug, nearly swallowing him whole in the crevasse separating Braden’s huge pecs, JJ screams like a wounded animal. It’s so fucking sensationally pathetic. He’s absolutely and completely outclassed, not because Jake Jenkins is actually outclassed by flat-footed Braden Charron, but because of that fucking curse! He climbs into the ring, and he gets plowed under like he doesn’t have enough athleticism and wrestling experience to break apart a musclebound brute like Braden joint by joint. But not in the ring, mother fucker! Not in the ring.
I like more suspense than a squash typically offers. I like a competitive match to a lopsided bully session. I like a “little” guy with supreme athleticism over a bottle tanned bruiser pretty much any day. But fuck it all, I like seeing Jake Jenkins suck on an avalanche of humiliation and misery, twisting and screaming, sweat pouring off his writhing body, suffering like a work of art in the middle of a wrestling ring.
And barefoot. He’s got to be barefoot.
Sidelineland 