Maybe it’s just me, but I always enjoy the classic “Hollywood Blonds” tag team gimmick. For some reason, I am triggered by the appearance of two grown men, husky and powerfully built, who have bleached their long hair a matching yellow (almost white) color. Then they would enter the ring wearing matching outfits — in this case, baby blue bodysuits with white stars — and I’d be swooning over them. I suppose my reaction was caused by their flamboyant and very blatant Gender Bending. Their transgressive performance is meant to offend the homophobic audience, but it also gave this horny young fanboy a hard-on.
The Blonds’ opponents in this January 1978 match are a pair of masculine, no nonsense Good Guys — Tony Garea and a young (but already hairy-chested) Larry Zbyszko.
After the Blonds strip down to their matching singlets — which remind me of old ladies’ bathing suits — the rasslin’ finally begins.
Garea owns the Blonds for the first few minutes, but don’t worry, this match is 99% Heel Offense (would I be blogging about it if it weren’t?) You can watch Part 1 and Part 2 of this match on YouTube.
Garea is stunned by this classic move — his skull rattled by the force of the Heel’s foot stomping loudly on the mat.
Even as a youngster, I thought this move seemed fake — like it wouldn’t really hurt you much. Yet Garea is destroyed by it, as if he was just shot in the head! The fact that this wimpy attack had such a devastating effect on Garea would sissify and emasculate Garea in my thoughts, making him seem completely weak and vulnerable to the softest blows — his utter powerlessness making the entire scenario seem more exciting.
Earlier I referred to the Blond’s singlets as ladies bathing suits, so you probably think I wish they’d wear something else. On the contrary — I really dig those sexy effeminate leotards! One aspect of sleazy 1970’s Rasslin’ that I miss the most is the wearing of these butcher style singlets.
Pro wrestling singlets are snug on their beefy frames, both covering and revealing their nudity. The spandex is cut high at the hips, unlike the modest amateur singlets that extend to mid-thigh. Those bright colors fully expose their bulges and cracks, every inch of their husky bodies on display.
So I’m a big fan of their kinky costumes — I wish I had one to wear around the house when nobody is around!
And the fact that both of these dudes agreed to wear these revealing, emasculating Cock-Slings, in matching colors, just adds to our suspicions that they’re a couple of queers.
I can just imagine what these homos would do to each other in the privacy of their hotel room, while still wearing their tight Sissy-Suits! And just imagine if they lured Tony Garea into their room with them… (And those fantasies, inspired by the scenes of punishment and suffering in the ring, are why I love wrestling.)
Tony Garea was a Tag Team specialist for much of his career — meaning he understood the psychology and sex appeal of the Face-in-Peril gimmick and played it well.
Due to his handsome appearance (and submissive attitude?), Garea almost always portrayed the FIP — the damsel in distress — in whatever Tag Team he joined. He sells gloriously for these two sissies as his strong, masculine partner watches in disgust and frustration.
These chubby blond bitches (wearing their mothers’ bathing suits) are not masculine, hairy-chested Real Men, and yet they easily dominate Garea! This just further humiliates Garea and makes him seem more powerless than if he were punished by some big ugly Road Warriors instead of a couple of queers.
Some naughty cheating occurs in the Heel corner as the devious Blonds blatantly ignore the rules. Bitches can be so cruel, amIright?
The “Pretty-Boy” just reaches in and takes ownership of Garea. He gropes our hero’s neck and chest, bending his body over the top rope and entangling his arms to disable him. Poor Garea is at their mercy, and my jeans would be so tented at this point, I’d have to run to my room and lock the door.
This was the climax of the match for me — Garea restrained by one Blond as the other reaches into his trunks and slugs him in the gut.
These vicious cheaters — can’t anyone teach them to fight fair like men?! (I hope not — the unfair abuse by these flamboyant rule-breakers is what made pro wrestling sleazy, sexy, and arousing.)
Eventually Garea is rescued by his partner, but the Blonds no-sell the rescuer’s fire and PROCEED TO KICK HIS ASS TOO!
What is happening? Why are the Sissy Heels flipping the script and assaulting the manly Fan Favorites rather than laying down obediently and accepting the superiority of the Real Men??
Zbyszko was presented as the strong man of his team, eager to get in the ring and unleash his power to save his weaker partner.
But instead we see him brutalized in the corner, a series of fists and elbows draining his strength. This is good stuff — the Good Guys are being owned!
In the end, Garea pops off a stiff Drop-kick and the Good Guys win the match.
If the two effeminate blonds had hugged each other like this, the audience would’ve lynched them. But it’s OK for Garea and Zbyszko to embrace because they’re clearly straight and they won the match so they’ve earned it.
Tony Garea’s a recent discovery for me, and exploring the realms of punishment inflicted on that hot body (the kind of old school male body that has everything in the right place and in sufficient quantity, but doesn’t overdo it) has been a source of mind-blowing pleasure. If he suffered as half of a tag team, he maybe suffered twice as much as the sole focus of the sadistic tactics of outre heels like Evans and Sharpe. Focus, that’s the point. Whose body is the focus here, both for the cheating villains and for us, the audience? Permission is another point. What’s being staged here gives us permission and even encouragement to look as long (and hard) as we want.