First let me apologize to anybody out there who is sick of me posting images of the Border Patrol beating up on Mexican wrestlers. I know I’ve featured these same Bad Boys before in my Crossing Borders article, and in Overwhelming Attack, but their cruelty and arrogance does something inside my head that is hard to explain — I can’t get enough of them. And I sure can’t get enough of Shaun Ricker shirtless in his jeans.
Here is the Border Patrol strutting around ringside in their fancy clothing, on the microphone asking for everyone’s “Green Cards” (even though they’re in Mexico.) The angry fans toss their beers on the Amercians’ clothing — oh well, I guess everyone will need to strip shirtless like Ricker, whose body is just glistening now that it’s wet.
Even though they represent law and order, the Border Patrol wreak havoc in the arena, illegally attacking a popular Luchador, then stripping shirtless for some cocky balled-fist poses backstage before their match.
The Border Patrol consists of Shaun Ricker, the ripped muscle-stud with the full beard and huge biceps; “Old School” Oliver John, the bald Bruce Willis looking daddy who seems like he could chew nails; and Derek Sanders, the prettiest member of the team who, in these photos, is pressing his chest up against Oliver John’s hard body.
In sharp contrast to the arrogant Americans, the more humble Mexican wrestlers flaunt their patriotism, pump up the crowd, and encourage their fellow Mexicans to support them and love them. In other words, they lay down a solid Baby-Face foundation for the Border Patrol to smash into smithereens…
Now it’s time to rassle — which is my favorite time of the day. Before the match gets underway, can I just take a moment to admire the vision of Oliver John shirtless in his tights. Phwoar, he just drips with masculinity and testosterone, and his legs appear especially swole and powerful in those black leggings!
The many unfair advantages that the Gringos possess (having the law on their side, those giant muscles, and their unbreakable homo-social bonds) inspires the Mexican fans to hate and fear them. The Mexican Baby-Faces also do a great job early in the match to appear a bit out-matched, out-muscled, and out-wrestled. This creates tension in the minds of the fans — the possibility that their masked heroes will be defeated, humiliated, possibly even raped by the stronger, faster, more ferocious American invaders.
If you asked me a few years ago to dream up the perfect asshole Bad Guy Tag Team to go south and torment the Mexican wrestlers and fans, and if I was clever enough, I would have dreamed of the Border Patrol. Perfect!
The Baby-Faces take their beatings and keep fighting back, just the sort of spirit and determination that gets the fans hot.
And the Border Patrol are a solid Heel team, consistently raising the brutality and pausing now and then to dick around with the audience and keep riled up.
Oliver John knows how to really get in the heads of the Mexican viewers. He blatantly commits the Cardinal Sin of Lucha Libre by trying to rip of his opponent’s mask.
For a Mexican wrestler to attempt to unmask his competitor is outrageous enough, but when a Gringo takes this liberty, it feels even more insulting, as if he’s taking a piss on the Pyramid of Teotihuacan or something…
The fans are blessed with something to feel happy about and cheer for when their hero rallies his strength and uses his powerful legs to dominate the buff Border Patrol agent. Oliver John is whipped around like a ragdoll, totally out-wrestled.
And Oliver John plays along willingly, selling the power and agility of his masked opponent (yet another reason to dig John…)
The leader of the Border Patrol finds himself in his opponent’s patented Camel Clutch finishing hold and is forced to submit. The Mexican wrestlers win the first fall!
Damn, look at that powerful body being twisted the wrong way… So the Border Patrol finds themselves down One Fall to Zero. (Call me a meanie, but I sure hope the Heels can rally and utterly destroy the fan favorites, at least for a little while — make the fans utterly collapse in frustration and outrage. That’s the kind of wrestling I really love…)
Oliver John shirtless in his tights–“Phwoar” is right!
(The stocky Luchador in the green and black isn’t bad, either!)