These photos are captures from my first male vs male wrestling clip, shot at my home studio here in Toronto. This poor guy, a 23-year-old named Tom, answered an ad for wrestling partners and totally misread it. He showed up at my studio expecting to play a “heel,” or, in pro-wrestling parlance, a bullying villain who cheats like hell and uses all kinds of vicious moves intended to hurt and injure rather than only defeat an opponent. I’d specifically said in the ad that I needed wrestlers to play “jobber,” or naïve kickbag, to my “heel.”
He was disappointed, I could tell, but agreed out of interest to stick around for the session and try it out. He wouldn’t be coming back, suffice it to say. Once I’d gotten a feeling that he was beginning to resent my going out of my way to use my bare feet on him, I decided to ramp up my footwork to see if I could break him.
In the early going, I had no trouble putting him down on his stomach and then pinning him down with one knee or one foot on his back. From there I’m quick as a cat to get both my feet on a pinned opponent. Tom spent a lot of the time in the position above, me on his back, his lips kissing mat. I could feel him getting tense the third time I wrestled him down onto his stomach only to stand on him one more time. He was beginning to sense this was some kind of fetish ingredient in the “heel” spectacle. He was right, of course.
This was the point where I was most expected him to get up and quit. I’d put him down pretty hard, had him in a hammerlock and completely at my mercy, and then I reached forward with my foot and stepped on the side of his face. He was just about smouldering at this point, and there was anger behind his struggles to escape the armlock. I gently but firmly pressed his arm into his back, not pushing it farther up his back, but driving it into place against his struggles to free it. I also gave him my first non-verbal taunt–I pressed on his cheek repeatedly, stepping down with the ball of my foot and toes on his face, then easing the pressure, waiting, then stepping down again, like I was pumping a gas pedal.
Have a look at his face under my foot. He looks uncomfortable, and he is so, but most of this grimace is smothered anger. I’m beginning to not only pump my foot on his face but also smear the sole of my foot forward and up his cheek, making a scratching sound against his beard and tickling my foot. He’s as mad now as he was going to get that day. If he didn’t quit now, he would make it through anything else I decided to put him through.
You can buy the clip here.
Part 2 coming soon…