It's a rare treat to see The Walkin Dude post, and even more of a pleasure to open my mailbox and find a brand new piece he's written. I asked him if I could share it here in the FH thread, and he graciously agreed! Enjoy it...I know I certainly did. 
The Creeping Menace
John Farson reporting
In the course of my fifteen-plus years covering the wrestling beat for
BLONDE! there are many visuals that have come to bring me unbridled joy. Sarah Carter via slap-out in under three minutes. Kaley Cuoco’s unrivaled Springboard Elbow Drop. Kate Upton’s Bear Hug. (It’s better than her Front Sleeper. There, I said it.) Charlize’s well, everything.
Conversely there are handful of images that can raise an almost atavistic dread, especially when trained upon my favorite flaxen-haired fighters. Famke Janssen’s Reverse Headscissors. The Toronto AHW scene during Neve Campbell’s nightmarish Reign of Terror. Gal Gadot’s ‘Golden’ Discus Lariat.
Recently there’s another phrase that’s wormed its way into those uneasy moments when sleep (or a column idea) are too long in coming. It’s one that probably won’t register with those fans who only look to red carpet premieres and weekend box-office takes for their fighting favorites, but it is indeed a threat to the Golden Hegemony we all hold so dear. The phrase is as follows:
Samara Weaving versus Troian Bellisario in a contest of submission wrestling.
I’ve covered enough of this burgeoning tyrant’s efforts in the last eighteen months for these words to raise the hackles on the back of my neck and it was a with a particularly heady blend of optimism and concern flowing through my veins that I headed to Orpheus Hall last Saturday Night to cover a match between Samara Weaving and the aforementioned menace.
Weaving, you may recall, was one of
BLONDE!’s ‘Flaxen Favorites to Watch’ in our December 2019 issue and it is with no small amount of pride that I tell you she’s gone from someone that Brunette once blithely described as ‘Not Margot Robbie’ to an exciting young talent that’s captivated fans from coast to coast with a style that combines hardnosed brawling and seemingly effortless shows of strength for devastating results.
She may be a staple of the genre cons and small indy shows now, but mark my words, in two years time Samara Weaving will be mentioned in the same breath as Kaley Cuoco and Margot Robbie, quite possibly before them. But to reach such rarified air required a stopover at the drafty old Orpheus to test her mettle against a brunette that one of my colleagues once referred to as the
the bog that walks on two legs.
Please, forgive me for being blunt. Troian Bellisario is no mere bog. She’s the Swamp of Sadness. And last Saturday night Samara Weaving played the role of poor, doomed Artax. (There are those of you who won’t appreciate or even understand that reference, but if you were there you know damned well why I chose it.)
The contest, scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit, saw the competitors sporting near identical throwback one-pieces with the only differences coming in color and neckline. A warm, sunny orange with a scooped neckline for Weaving contrasted pleasantly with the ugly thunderhead purple and high collar of Bellisario’s attire. No hand shake or other show of respect from either grappler prior to the bell. Can’t really blame Samara, she’s clearly aware of Troian’s reputation and wasn’t taking any chances.
It went 23:15 from bell to bell and for the first eleven minutes or so it was as even a contest as you could’ve hoped for. Weaving imposed terms while they were standing while Bellisario controlled things on the canvas. In that early stretch it was clear to me that Samara was the stronger of the two and obviously more aggressive, but that zeal also exposed holes in her defenses that the brunette was all too happy to exploit. Even so, Weaving showed both poise and grit when she was fighting from underneath and I began to feel that my earlier concern was unfounded.
You can imagine my dismay then when Bellisario escaped a Weaving Waistlock, dropped to all fours and slithered backward through her legs, tumbling the surprised blonde to the deck in the process. Both wrestlers made it to their feet at the same time, but Samara’s back was to her opponent which meant she never saw the Super Kick that caromed off the base of her skull.
Credit the newcomer’s tenacity, she pitched into the ropes but didn’t lose her footing. Indeed it was only a few seconds before she’d wheeled around and lunged for the treacherous brunette. Alas, this proved a dangerous mistake, as Troian hooked a leg and swept her to the deck whereupon she rolled the startled grappler onto her belly for a Half Boston Crab.
Bellisario’s technique was impressive (as evidenced by the proximity of Weaving’s clean white wrestling shoe to the back of her own head) but it proved no match for the blonde’s power as she pushed up on her hands and set out for the ropes. She’d made it all of two feet when the devious brunette shifted seamlessly into an STF. The going got considerably slower after that, as Weaving had to carry Bellisario’s smothering weight all while the taller woman wrenched away at her neck and painfully twisted leg.
Even this wasn’t enough to halt Samara’s progress however. Over the course of perhaps thirty seconds she dragged their combined weight to within arm’s length of the bottom rope. Freedom was quite literally in her grasp when Troian caught that questing wrist, drew it backward and transitioned into a Scissored Double Armbar that most fans will recognize as the Rings of Saturn, or more recently, the Brutalizer.
As a journalist (and more importantly, a fan) it is beyond heartbreaking to bear witness to a moment when a heretofore unflappable fighter suffers a decisive setback. To be clear, Samara Weaving’s will
did not break when Troian Bellisario flowed into her third unanswered hold in perhaps a minute, but the sound that escaped her lips held none of the confidence she’d shown up to that point.
Still, the blonde fought on.
With both arms in Bellisario’s clutches she spent the next forty-five seconds wriggling through a half circle that finally, blessedly, allowed her to drape her right ankle atop the bottom rope. The referee immediately called for the break (as he should) and the brunette honored it, only to scramble to her feet and immediately land a quick Leg Drop across the back of Weaving’s undefended head! Such an infraction should’ve resulted in disqualification or at least a stern warning, unfortunately the official didn’t even waggle a finger as Troian dragged her flagging flaxen adversary out into the deep waters of center ring.
Once there it was more of the same.
Bellisario hooked Weaving in a deep Abdominal Stretch, then made a point to repeatedly slap, rake and gouge at Samara’s midsection, the blonde’s sunny one-piece doing nothing to dissuade that devastating claw. And still Weaving would not concede, in fact Bellisario looked flustered and downright petulant when the Aussie resumed her trudge to the ropes. Of course such a show of gutsy resilience is an affront to all brunettes, so it should come as no surprise that Bellisario quickly slung a leg over the side of Samara’s head and bore down with all her weight to transform the Abdominal Stretch into an agonizing Octopus.
I’m not ashamed to admit that by this point I was on my feet cheering with the rest of the crowd, nor am I ashamed to admit that I voiced something entirely unprintable when the ebon-haired savage passed on simply immobilizing Samara’s right arm (which was once again edging closer to the sanctuary of the strands) in favor of
raaaaaaaaaaaaking it with her nails.
That, I believe, was when Weaving lost the will to fight.
Certainly her wailing was far more pitiable and infinitely less defiant from that point on, not that anyone could blame her considering Bellisario scored her from wrist to bicep at least a dozen times. Nor did she offer any meaningful protest when Troian abruptly relinquished the Octopus for a Standing Headscissors that just as quickly gave way to a Piledriver that drove the blonde’s skull into the worn canvas with a sickening thud.
If I’m being honest, the match was over then and there. The starfished sprawl of golden Australian wreckage had nothing in common with the vivacious heart-stopper that’d strutted down the aisle twenty minutes prior. Unfortunately for Samara the match was billed as submission wrestling and Troian Bellisario would not be denied.
What came next? Simple. She stretched Samara Weaving without mercy.
It started like an STF, with Troian claiming Samara’s left foot just to turn her onto her stomach. With that lower leg firmly in her possession the brunette scissored the exposed limb between her calves and dropped down and across Weaving’s back at a sharp angle presumably designed to exacerbate the already painful torque on her trapped leg. From there it diverged from the traditional STF as Bellisario slid her right arm across the back of Samara’s neck just to shove her right arm out of the way. With that done Bellisario’s right arm snaked beneath Weaving’s right bicep and across her chest and neck to ultimately meet her left hand in an S-clasp against the other side of her helpless opponent’s face. Things went from bad to worse as soon as Troian rolled over onto her left side, a shift that wrenched Weaving’s spine up and across the curve of her tormenter’s left flank while also putting immense strain on her neck and pinioned left leg.
If it sounds hard to describe, I assure you it’s that much harder to watch, especially when it’s one of your favorites being bent into a hellacious curve for ten endless seconds before she whimpers a semiconscious concession to the referee.
The bell sounded.
The match was over.
Any competitor of reasonable moral fiber would’ve taken her victory lap and left the ring, but ‘Dark Hair, Dark Heart’ isn’t just bulletin board material here at
BLONDE! dear readers, it’s a warning to expect the worst from the raven-haired opposition.
The worst was exactly what Bellisario dished out when she released the hold and shoveled Samara onto her back. Kneeling above the conquered crown of her foe, Bellisario inched forward, then sat down with every bit of her weight atop Weaving’s defenseless features.
It was an affront and Samara reacted accordingly, thrashing and wriggling in a valiant effort to escape the unnecessary humiliation. But some nights valiant wasn’t enough, and last Saturday proved the perfect example. Offering those assembled that hateful smirk seen only on the face of a victorious brunette, Bellisario took possession of Weaving’s wrists and proceeded to BEAT her forearms against the canvas until the thrashing gave way to squirming. Soon that gave way to muffled pleading, poor Samara at least temporarily divested of her pride in a doomed effort to escape the haughty, smothering buttocks of her foe.
Escape only came in unconsciousness, itself a long time in coming, at least as far as all good people are concerned. Bellisario left the ring without further incident, as if adding such an odious blemish on the record of a promising blonde wrestler wasn’t enough.
After that the card continued and if we’re judging solely by Main Events it ended on a high note because Blake Lively submitted the always troublesome Kendall Jenner with a truly impressive Figure Eight Leglock.
But I implore you, dear readers.
Do not forget the torment and embarrassment heaped upon Samara Weaving in the middle of the card.
Do not forget the threat posed by Troian Bellisario and her seemingly endless array of human knots.
Just like another deadly (and ultimately overlooked) threat,
she creeps. Saturday it was one of my favorites.
Next week it might be one of yours.
The threat is real. Troian Bellisario must be stopped.
