Tag: KC Ryder

Rumble Again

wrestlebard2 Comments

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.

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

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Like Wrestlefest itself, Wrestlefest Live grew in leaps and bounds this year. I attended WF Live last year, and it was an awesome, fascinating, intense, and immensely entertaining event. Last year, the Live show had the feel of getting smuggled into a speakeasy during prohibition. We were escorted, one elevator-full of wrestling fans at a time, to the undisclosed location. Seating was limited in a sparse, Manhattan loft space on the upper floor of a high rise. It was mat wrestling in front of an intimately small but enthusiastic crowd. The matches were bigger than the setting, really, with some fantastic, high profile wrestlers from the underground scene, stars of both self-published and corporately produced homoerotic wrestling. Seated inches away from match after match of sizzling hot bodies grappling for dominance was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and when the box office opened online for the show this year, I eagerly snatched mine up hours after they went on sale, which turned out to be a good thing, since the show sold out in about 12 hours.

Wrestlefest Live this year was billed as more. More matches, a lot more wrestlers (accounting for tag teams, celebrity refs, and unannounced ring takeovers, turned out to be A LOT), but the one element that piqued my interest most was the promise of a full blown pro wrestling show in a ring. I was in suspense, wondering how they’d pull this off, knowing it was set in the same club where the kickoff party had occurred the night before (see my account of drooling over Dio Characi there). I tried to moderate my expectations, frankly. I was picturing the possibility of sort of a backyard wrestling feel, but in this case, in the backroom of Red Eye. Let me be clear, I admire the fuck out of backyard wrestling, with the young wrestling enthusiasts who improvise a pro wrestling setting on the cheap in order to live out (and record and share) their fantasies of being larger than life pro wrestlers like the ones they love watching on TV. Sometimes the “ring” is a trampoline or maybe just a few traffic cones and an unsecured rope marking the imaginary boundaries of a ring. Seriously, I’ve enjoyed watching some backyard wrestling from time to time on YouTube, when I find some hot young men going all in for the raw love of it. However, I wondered if Wrestlefest Live this year might similarly require the audience to imagine more than it literally delivered, sort of like backyard wrestling enthusiasts with the passion, if not the actual equipment and budget, of indy pro wrestling.

But, whoa. Like, WHOA! This was a legit show, the actual incarnation of unapologetic pro wrestling for a homoerotic wrestling audience that I’ve always fantasized about but never quite believed I’d get to witness. Sometime between the end of the kick-off party and the start of the show, an army of elves (who I’ve since learned were primarily made of up many of the wrestlers in the show) literally assembled a pro wrestling ring in the back room of the club. It took up about 80% of the floor space, and they packed in the 70 or 80 of us who purchased tickets into the remaining 20%. You know how eager I was for this, considering I gave up the opportunity to keep chatting up Ben Monaco, Beau Jordan, and Mickey Knoxx at the bar to elbow my way to near the front of the line as soon as the doors opened. I scored a ringside seat near the corner of the ring where the wrestlers made their entrances. I mean, everyone had an up close and incredible view, but fuck, I could literally reach out and touch the ring. When Mickey Knoxx made his ring entrance with Rocko Mortis for their tag team match, he peeled off his top and tossed it out of the ring at my feet (I haven’t asked Mickey, but I prefer to believe it was intentional). Moments later, when their opponents, Beau Jordan and pinch-hitter Seon Cruz took the ring, Beau ripped off his tear-away stripper pants and also tossed them down right in front of me (again, I tell myself it was an intentional bit of titillation especially for me). Like, fuck, I was right fucking there! When Sid Shaw and Zach Reno’s off-the-rails match spilled out of the ring, it was nearly in my lap. For a couple of seconds, Sid had a hold of my shoulder and was trying to climb over me and my buddy next to me because sensationally sexy lightweight Zach was about to thrash the living shit out of him. Fuck, I was right there, and we were ALL right there, and what played out in front of us was incredibly hot, hilarious, and gorgeous pro wrestling action.

Most of the wrestlers on the card have grown up before our eyes, turning their passions for wrestling into entertaining videos on WatchFighters. Quite a few have headlined for companies like BG East, Wrestler4Hire, and Weekend Wrestling. I suspect few of them have done anything quite like this before, pulling off a live match in front of a roaring crowd of guys turned on by wrestling. But honestly, you wouldn’t have known it. The entire show had polish about it. There was an earnestness and unblinking sell about it that was totally un-self-conscious. The slams where hard and loud. Bodies were literally catapulted off the ropes. The face plants into the turnbuckles shook the ring and hurt just to watch. The slaps and stomps popped with this spontaneous authenticity that left bright red hand prints and yellowing bruises behind. I’m mean, sure, I’m certain there were moments that I needed to suspend my disbelief, but as I look back on my memories of the event just over a week ago, I honestly don’t remember them. I just remember the stories playing out in front of us. And the hot bodies. I remember those really well.

There were competitive matches packed with impressive athleticism and wrestling technique. Babyface hero Dash Halley put those meaty pecs of his on the line against massive muscle bruiser Leon Cyrus in a best-of-5 battle that hit hard and kept us guessing to the sweaty end. My buddy Bobby Carter’s match against the institution, Lobo Gris, also started as one of those highly competitive and suspenseful battles, with pounding muscles and long, wrenching submission holds. But all of the matches showcased personalities and drama at least as much as they did stunning athleticism and technical wrestling. Both of the tag team matches were both dripping with melodrama, which is what tag team wrestling demands. When Kid Canuck and Ryan Reilly faced off against MPJ and Bruno the Beast, there was a shocking tag team partner betrayal culminating in a humiliated jobber pile of hot, sexy, demolished pretty boys. In most of the matches there was the teetering back and forth of the balance of power, with wrestlers owning the momentum and taking liberties and threatening to count their chickens before they hatched. Oh, and did I mention there was hot, hunky stripper wrestling? I feel like that deserves to be repeated.

The messiest and the most polished matches were back-to-back. My pick for messiest match was Gabe Steel taking on Drew Harper… and then Gabe taking on Dash Halley… and then Gabe taking on surprise reveal of Jonny Firestorm… and then Gabe taking on both Gabe and Drew. It was all high impact moves, with piledrivers for days. Honestly, there was so much going on I lost the thread of what the hell was exactly happening and who I was rooting for. Entertaining? Absolutely. But way, beautifully messy. The Weekend Wrestling feature of the evening was pretty much the opposite. Sadistic Sid Shaw took on Zach Reno, as I mentioned before, and it was smooth and polished to a glistening shine (just like Zach’s ass, which yes, we saw). Sid and Zach told the story of the underdog little (hot) guy refusing to be intimidated by the big, unhinged muscle brute. There was forced stripping, trunks pulled to show off two sets of hot glutes, and spanking. It was tightly told, with a couple of extensively experienced wrestlers to make every bump and spank feel spontaneous and part of a bigger story, including pulling in some ass whooping on Cole Cassidy (Weekend Wrestling Producer) which was oddly satisfying (not sure why I keyed off on seeing heartthrob hunk heel Cole get his ass kicked as much as I did).

And then there were just these unique moments that speak to the diversity of wrestlers and wrestling that populate this fabulously sexy community. Sir Dark’s match was just entirely off the hook and unlike anything else in the ring that night (in a super fun way). He was feral and bloodthirsty, out to fuck someone up so bad that he impulsively takes out the ref before a pop-up challenger can be identified from the audience. When KC Ryder steps in to be the beautiful blond babyface hero to stand against the forces of chaos uncorked by maniacal Sir Dark, the drama really got intense. Their match was ego-fueled and larger than life. It was sexy as hell and had me holding my breath in suspense and awe. Not sure if I’m conveying it, but it was just a whole different flavor to add to the buffet of Wrestlefest Live. The inaugural championship match between beefy babyface Ben Monaco and take-no-prisoners muscle heel Tarz Lando was (possibly) the the most thoroughly sweet treat for squash fans. The championship belt was decided in a super hot muscle massacre, dripping with cocky swagger and taunting trash talk and gorgeous, huge hairy pecs everywhere. The range throughout the evening was delightful, and the bench was deep.

It wasn’t perfect. There was a 20-minute delay at one point to try to troubleshoot the livestream that stopped working. There were blown moves, an occasional oversell, and even a frew more undersells. I saw Gabe Steel icing a swollen-shut eye after his match, and I’ve seen hints on social media that he may have more story to tell about things that didn’t go to plan. But as a gay fan turned on by wrestling, by sexy wrestlers and the drama and the battle for domination, it was magnificent. It was larger than life. From the rainbow ring to the ball claws and face sitting, it luxuriantly gay. It showed a ton of respect for the art and science and athleticism and beauty of professional wrestling. And it felt deeply respectful to a standing-room-only crowd of homoerotic wrestling fans. Those with credits for this sensational production included KC Ryder, Rocko Mortis, Cole Cassidy, and my cousin Scooter for what had to be a shit ton of upfront organizing and legwork, and there was another small army of guys holding the cameras and running the equipment. A quick shout out to the hot, handsome nerd-hunk ring announcer who should’ve thrown down the mic and ripped off his shirt (but didn’t). All of the celebrity refs (Chase Addams, Ethan Axel Andrews, and new-to-me muscle god Boy Radio) brought the sexy-in-stripes vibe and helped stir the pot of drama inside the ring at every turn. The Red Eye staff were uniformly delightfully hospitable and gorgeous (especially the bearded server with that hot-ass singlet serving drinks at ringside). I look forward to posting more detailed reviews once the matches go up on WatchFighters, but in the meantime, I’m combing through my hundreds of pics and videos I snapped, despite the announcement at the start of the show encouraging us to only take pics and videos “sparingly.” So not sorry!