Sir Dark – Sidelineland

Mayhem

September 5, 2025September 17, 2025 wrestlebard1 Comment

Watching Watchfighters Rumble Match – Part 1 gives me so many vibes of being at a Wrestlefest. Actually, it specifically gives me vibes of being at Wrestlefest Canada. I swear I stayed in that hotel room! Well, I’m pretty sure it’s at the hotel I stayed at when I enjoyed attending WF Canada three summers ago. But the vibes are about a lot more than the accommodations. There’s this serendipity about the pop-up community that forms at a fest. My best analogy is to summer camp, where you look forward to getting thrown into this community of people outside of your regular life, and the proximity and shared interests and just everyone stepping outside their lives and into this chosen community creates this incredibly fun esprit de corps. The (no shit) 13 wrestlers who join Sir Dark’s rumble in WF Rumble Match – Part 1 all look like they’re having a fucking blast.

It was at Wrestlefest Canada I experienced my first of many group mat matches. The rumble has all of those elements, but bigger and more intense and with an even more out of control feel of a melee. The premise is, like a pro wrestling rumble, a new wrestler is added to the mix every so often, and wrestlers are eliminated when they submit. And that’s it. Like, that’s all the rules. So the wrestling drama depends entirely on the luck of the draw, pacing, and the fickle alliances and betrayals that play out depending on who happens to be on the mat at any given time. It’s absolute chaos AND it’s got this compelling momentum that I can’t take my eyes off of.

I’m tuned in for my favorites featured, of course. Sir Dark appears to be the mastermind of the mayhem, which, honestly, is so on brand. If you could bottle chaos, I think he’d guzzle it daily. He’s got this constant edge of unpredictability about him, I think showcased never more clearly than in his Wrestlefest Live match last February in NYC. But he’s souped up and riding the feral edge about him as this rumble starts up, but holy shit is he in there with the yin to his yang. Ethan Axel Andrews is the other wrestler to kick off the Rumble, and he’s more like a cruise missile. Their opening scrap against each other is one of the most intense of the next 20 minutes, which sort of makes sense because all their attention is on each other, and their both fresh and primed. Ethan is rolling, exploiting his size advantage for a bit when he latches on a leglock and threatens to snap the Dark one at the knee. Sir Dark screams at him with total bile and adrenaline, “Fuck off, NO!” Fuck, that guy rocks me.

Every minute (or so, the timing isn’t entirely precise), a countdown signals the arrival of a new wrestler to join the fray. In these raucous 20 minutes, favorite wrestlers of mine show up in the mix and I’m unable to stop myself from cheering at my screen. Mickey Knoxx comes in hot, flexing and strutting and wasting no time tearing into Feroce in a completely unfair double team with Demonflex. Isaac Andrews comes in looking gorgeous as fuck with his hairy chest and beard. Kayden Keller and Chase Addams turn the heat way, way up when they take each take their turns as the fresh man diving into the mix.

Just like it works at a fest, though, there are also these unexpected finds, wrestlers I don’t think I’ve ever seen before but once I do, I can’t take my eyes off of them. The fourth entrant is introduced as Mischief. He’s adorable, with this gentle giant feel about him as he strides onto the mat. And then, holy fuck, there’s nothing gentle about Mischief! The guy is grinning ear to ear the entire time, so transparently loving that uncorked chaos Sir Dark is serving up. Two things in particular about Mischief make me swoon. One is just how much delight he takes in muscle bullying a smaller opponent. No apologies. No giving a little guy a fighting chance. He just licks his lips and tucks in to the bite sized morsels with relish. The other thing that catches my eye and turns me on about Mischief is this go to move he has of buttoning an opponent up and just clamping his huge hand over the guy’s face and refusing to let the fucker breathe. He does that more than once, and it’s such a fucking BOSS move.

There are some other new-to-me wrestlers that instantly impress me. I’ve seen Feroce DeLeon on Watchfighters before, but I was not expecting just how much absolute abuse his hot body can soak up. I met Kevin Nova at that fest in Toronto a couple of years ago, and he’s buffed up and gotten super aggressive in a way that makes him fit right into this wild melee. I’ve followed Demonflex on social media for what seems like forever. We’ve had near-misses at scheduling a 1:1 for the two of us, and watching how much fun he has swimming in this chaos makes me want to make sure that meet up happens soon. Veneno is this tasty little masked scrapper who looks like he should get submitted super fast based on nothing but size, but there’s a short king under that mask who is taking on everyone and in the center of the fray at all times and holding his own like a terrier. For some reason I think I have seen Neil Rey somewhere, but I’m not placing him, but he’s fascinating to watch come in and join this big boy gang triple teaming the little guy on the mat at the time.

That little guy is the other new-to-me wrestler epiphany that caught my attention out of everything happening at once in the maelstrom. Honestly, I was worried about pretty boy B Sprite when he first showed up. I mean, this kid is pretty. Too pretty, and lithe, and lean, and he ends up in the turbulent waters right when there’s the likes of big, burly bad asses ripping into each other like Isaac and Kayden and Neil. I have to immediately reassess lovely B Sprite, though, when he doesn’t skip a beat, and half a second after stepping onto the mat he’s got a claw working on twisting Mickey’s balls off. Lovely B Sprite is fucking mean and skilled, and sure, maybe I’m just identifying with him because he goes after Mickey like he’s got blinders on.

Writing a review of the Rumble is a bit like trying to film it, I suspect. There’s just so many mini-dramas playing out, it’s impossible to see them all in one viewing. Actually, it’s impossible to see them all upon repeated viewings, because the camera misses some of the action on one side the mat while documenting the grappling on the other side of the mat. Like, I’m not sure what drove terrier-like Veneno to actually submit, because the camera and I were enthralled with watching Kayden lift Mickey by the balls, cradling the wailing Canadian across his chest, and then slamming Mickey down in a brutal gut buster. If you like clean edges and drawing within the lines, the Rumble may not be for you, because it’s super raw and spontaneous and messy. And I’m convinced every single one of those wrestlers is having an absolute blast because he loves wrestling, and he’s exhilarated by the chaotic brew Sir Dark is serving on tap.

I’m going to towel off and settle in for the Rumble part 2, now. I had no idea this was exactly the international wrestling drama I needed to take my mind off the end times!

Wrestlefest Live – 2025

February 26, 2025March 4, 2025 wrestlebard6 Comments

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!

A Few Are Familiar With Me

February 15, 2025 wrestlebard2 Comments

I’ve been flying a bit under the radar this year for Wrestlefest NYC, but I’m happy to report that I’m back to enjoy it again this weekend. It’s a bit wild how quickly events like this went from being crazy intimidating to me the first time to just cruising in and looking forward to seeing old friends. Reports are that this is likely the biggest fest by far, with more than 600 attendees having RSVPed. I know for a fact some of the RSVPs didn’t show, and there’s really no “registration” or check-in, so how many wrestlers have descended on Penn Station this weekend is unknowable. However, based on the opening kick-off party last night, I’m convinced there is a huge collection of wrestlers concentrated in just a few city blocks in downtown Manhattan right now, and it’s pretty exciting to be part of it.

The kick-off party last night was overstimulating in every way. Scooter and his tireless band of volunteer organizers put together an amazing event at a club devoted, for the evening, to just those of us here for Wrestlefest. Two floors were packed pec-to-pec with sensationally hot wrestlers in singlets, trunks, or less. The eye candy was dizzying. Bodies in all shapes and sizes were there, but one mantra kept echoing in my thoughts about absolutely everyone: “Fuck, wrestling does a body good!”

Everywhere I turned was another homoerotic wrestling celebrity sighting. Many of them I count as friends, but are nonetheless members of the pantheon that set alight the homoerotic wrestling fantasies of so many of us. Canadian Mickey Knoxx was there wearing nothing but irony (i.e., an American flag leather jacket and star-spangled ultra briefs). I also got a hug in on Bobby Carter, showing off the body that’s been setting BG East and Watchfighters on fire this year. It felt like coming home, getting sweaty hugs from Drake Marcos, Chase Addams, and Ollie Watts.

Just as exciting was meeting some new friends for the first time in person. I may, or may not, have awkwardly insisted on giving Beau Jordan a hug. I mean hell, I can’t really start my day without a strong cup of black tea and Beau’s fashion singlet morning jerk off on Blue Sky, so I feel like I know him intimately despite having never met before last night. It was Sir Dark who gave me an spontaneous hug after figuring out I’m the guy he’s chatted with on social media and who’s been swooning over his Watchfighters matches. I unabashedly fanboy-ed on Steve Mason, who managed to be disarmingly and smolderingly magnetic despite being one of the few there in street clothes.

It’s hard to describe just how overstimulated I was, hoarse from shouting over the noise, packed in tight with acres of sexy wrestlers, some of whom I only managed to admire from a distance. I’m not ashamed to say I swooned over JJ Allen’s tree trunk thighs, Lobo Gris’ magnificent ass, and Tarz Lando’s huge, hairy pecs. I clocked celebrity sightings of Matt Larsen, Rocko Mortis, Nero the Beast, Isaac Andrews, and Ben Monaco. I introduced myself to Ryan Reilly, who’s been grabbing my attention on social media lately, and discovered that’s he’s as adorably charming as he is stunningly sexy.

At one point, I caught sight of this blindly hot hunk across the way waiting for a drink at the bar. I didn’t get a good look at his face at first, distracted as I was by his hot body poured into this absolutely perfect singlet. When I did finally get a look at his face, I knew that I know him… like, know him well! But, still, it took me a good half a minute before I realized who I was eye fucking: Dio Characi. Dio traveled as part of a herd of devastatingly sexy, gorgeous young hotties in singlets, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fanboy. I blatantly interrupted his conversation with his hot, bearded companion (truly sorry, bearded hot guy), and managed to introduce myself. Now, I’ve chatted just a bit with Dio by DM before, but for some reason, I was nervous as hell. He’s almost ethereally beautiful. I mean, one of the epiphanies for me last night was that every single wrestler I’ve lusted over watching wrestle on video was even more stunningly beautiful in person by at least a magnitude of 5. But Dio was even more stunningly beautiful than he is on video by a magnitude of 12 (approximately). I honestly kept thinking that I should probably let him get back to grazing with his herd of gorgeous hotties, but no shit, his face lit up when he placed that I was “that guy” who writes about him. Turns out, he’s charming as fuck (sorry Chase), seemingly almost as delighted to be fanboyed as I was to fanboy. I had to explain to a friend who was with us who Dio was (I know, and I totally agree with you… I need to slap that friend upside the head someday for somehow NOT knowing who Dio Characi is). And I was explaining, in front of Dio, that Dio is a wrestling superstar. And Dio quietly, demurely shrugged his big, muscular shoulders and shyly corrected me: “A few are familiar with me.” Lest my poorly informed friend believe the grossest undersell of the century, I repeated more emphatically that Dio is a fucking SUPERSTAR! And I kid you not, Dio practically blushed, and again, humbly insisted, “A few are familiar with me.”

I say all this for a couple of reasons. One reason is to just fucking brag that I had a delightful, real life conversation with Dio Characi. If I die in the forecast blizzard on my way home tomorrow, I still say it was worth it. But really, my point is just what a delight it is to get to swim around in so much good will in this wrestling community of ours. I mean, sure, there are egos. There’s drama. Literally, I overheard in the deafening din of the club last night conversations about ageism and racism and body fascism. It’s not like being united by a shared delight in homoerotic wrestling breaks down all biases and barriers and makes us better human beings. However, I do suspect it might make us, on average, happier human beings – and not in just an “I’ve got mine” sort of way. I suspect a large majority of the hundreds in attendance last night shared, at least briefly, the same sense of wonder and awe that I experienced at the size and scope of the community gathered there, and the unmistakable fact that who was there was just the tip of the iceberg. It’s bold and ballsy and beautiful, and it’s something to be celebrated. What divides us doesn’t surprise me at all, and I don’t mean to minimize it, but what unites us and what seemed to infuse that loud, sweaty club full of wrestlers last night, was a shared passion and the remarkable good will that can emerge from being community together.