The 'Daddy' of the Metrosexual, the Retrosexual, & spawner of the Spornosexual

Tag: Rugby (page 1 of 3)

Grab Ass is Over

Strewth! What’s the world of team sports coming to? Horseplay has been sent to the knacker’s yard.

Australian Football League team Melbourne Demons gave star players Jayden Hunt and Christian Petracca a stern telling off, after the former playfully grabbed the latter’s be-shorted bum during a game against Essendon last September.

It seems that Petracca was not at all offended. Quite the opposite. When Hunt removed his hand, Petracca immediately caught it and placed it back on his butt. More… matily.

Pumped Petracca

Despite the consensuality – or maybe because of it – Melbourne Football Club management didn’t like it one little bit. They pronounced it ‘inappropriate’ and put out a statement that the players had agreed it was ‘not a good look for the club’ and had promised that it ‘won’t happen again’.

I don’t think this goes far enough. Melbourne Demons should have given those naughty boys a spanking. Televised, of course.

Actually, I don’t see what the point of AFL is if players can’t matily grab one another’s arses. This is the latest of a slew of ‘scandals’ around the shocking tendency of extremely fit young men in an extremely physical, very ‘bonded’ sport such as Aussie rules football to get physical with one another. Every time they happen everyone pretends to be totally appalled that such horseplay goes on in team sports.

The very thing that has helped to turn sports stars into sporno stars, the ubiquity of HD lenses on and off the sports field, along with the proliferation of social media (and blogs like this) to share, analyse and shame a momentary gesture, has also subjected their interactions on the field to total surveillance. Hunt and Petracca obviously thought their joshing around would be hidden in the group huddle. But as is always the case these days, a telephoto lens was in just the wrong position to tell tales.

Meanwhile the corporatisation of sport as a form of show business and ‘role modelling’, not to mention the dominance of ‘toxic masculinity’ discourse, means rough behaviour by rough boys has to be shamed as ‘inappropriate’ and penitent promises never to do it again must be extracted.

Hence the entire statement Melbourne Demons management had their captain put out is almost Pythonesque in its fulsome and pompous repudiation of the brief bum-touching:

“As AFL players, we are role models and have a responsibility to showcase the right behaviours to the wider AFL community,” captain Max Gawn said.

“On this occasion, we have clearly fallen short, and we own that this is not acceptable.

“Christian and Jayden know that this was an inappropriate act, which is not in line with our expectations, or that of the competition.

“As a playing group, we understand and respect the example we need to be setting, and will continue to reinforce this going forward.”

‘We are role models’… ‘we have a responsibility to showcase the right behaviours’… ‘we have clearly fallen short’… ‘inappropriate act’… etc. etc. The roll-call of cant that the modern team sports player – and multi millionaire – is contractually obliged to mouth nowadays.

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Bootnecks are very swole but also very short

And while I’m moaning about the modern world, I should mention I only recently discovered that the very popular Royal Marine ‘Go Commando’ calendar, which featured hench bootnecks with their tops off, displaying their oiled guns, was banned a few years back by the Ministry of Defence, despite raising hundreds of thousands of pounds for charity. It was deemed to be ‘sexualising’. Apparently, this is a bad thing.

So Go Commando is now No Commando.

At least the MoD didn’t demand the bootnecks make a grovelling public apology. You can imagine how it would have gone:

‘We have a responsibility to showcase the right behaviours… we have clearly fallen short… this was inappropriate…. but it was also really fuckin’ hot.’

Drunken Sodomy

‘Beer before wine makes you feel fine, wine before beer makes you feel queer.’ 

That old drinking adage may now finally have to be officially amended to wine and beer – and anything else alcoholic – in any order, make you feel queer.

A recent study published in The Journal of Social Psychology claimed to show that heterosexuals become much more interested in the same sex when drunk. Straight men especially so – going from zero interest in a dude when sober, to almost the same level of interest as in a dame after ten drinks.

Call me old-fashioned, but isn’t this slightly redundant? Didn’t we already know this? Isn’t this, in fact, what beer was invented for? As a ‘lubricant’ for ‘male bonding’, in rugby clubs, fraternities and the British Army? 

A British paratrooper chum tells me that a popular pastime of the mauve berets is ‘naked bar’ – someone shouts ‘NAKED BAR!’ in the vicinity of alcohol and then everyone has to strip off, enjoying their favourite tipple in the altogether.

Needless to say, if I was a para I would be the one shouting ‘NAKED BAR!’ before anyone else. Probably over breakfast. I would single-handedly kill the tradition with overuse.

And then there is the old joke US sailors like to tell about Marines (and which Marines of course like to tell about sailors):

Q: What’s the difference between a straight Marine and a bisexual Marine?

A: A six-pack.

That ‘ten drinks’ standard the study came up with probably only applies to civilians

Let’s not forget that for hundreds of years, before the current fashion for blaming hair whorls, ring-fingers and amniotic fluids, drunkenness was regarded as one of the chief causes of sodomy. It’s certainly way more fun.

I of course have been conducting my own selfless researches in this area for decades. Though in truth I’ve been somewhat hampered by the fact that I’m far too gay to invite a drunken straight man home with me. He might throw up or piss the bed. Or snore. 

Anyway, how good is the drunken, unrehearsed, un-douched sex likely to be? Even without the hangover and guilt. Much better just to flirt drunkenly before heading home separately. Having sweet dreams of what might have been.

I can also vouch for the fact that beer can make a raging queer more bisexual too. Or at least, more likely to snog women. Indeed, I have experienced heterophobic discrimination as a result of my drunken sluttiness. Many moons ago I was barred from gaining entry to Love Muscle, a famous gay club in South London because I shared a taxi there with a random, but pretty woman, and we’d started snogging. (The bouncers were unpersuaded of my gayness, even though I was topless.)

It would be interesting however if someone repeated the study, this time secretly giving the guys alcohol-free drinks packaged as alcoholic and seeing if they still feel queer after downing them. This would help answer the age-old question of whether the suppressive effect of alcohol on inhibitions is more physiological or psychological – giving straight guys permission to entertain not-so-straight thoughts. 

Oh boy, was I drunk last night!’

Or, as the Romans used to put it: in vino, veritas.

This post originally appeared on Mark Simpson’s Patreon page.

I Don’t Bite – Unless You Ask Me To!

England rugby captain Dylan Hartley was spotted bonding on the touchline with Jonathan Joseph at the England v Scotland match last weekend, Hartley playfully teasing Joseph’s pretty mouth. They’re both highly edible. Even more so sandwiched together.

The touching scene put me in mind of this documentary some years ago about the arresting (rom)antics of a Lancashire amateur rugby club and their pride in their well-endowed captain.

And also the time I attended the Army & Navy rugby match at Twickenham and saw more flirtatious male affection and tenderness on the terraces in five minutes than I did in three hours at an international gay rugby tournament.

Though admittedly I may not have been looking as hard.

h/t Ruckus Rugby & Rupert S

Lucozade Ad Warns How Beards Make Everyone Look The Same

Even if they are wearing numbered, different-coloured shirts.

Well, can you come up with a better explanation what the rugger-buggery is going on in this slightly creepy latex-laden ad for Lucozade Sport ‘Strictly for the Home Nations Only’?

Pegged to the 2015 Rugby World Cup in Twickenham and starring big buff bearded England captain Chris Robshaw and chums, I’ve watched it several times and it still makes no sense to me. Maybe it’s because I don’t follow rugby. Or maybe it’s because I’m not an advertising creative who pretends to follow rugby.

The alternative explanations seem kinda kinky-gimpy. Are we meant to wonder what really went down in the back of that minivan when those norty Wallaby wannabes were cornered in the underground car park? By those strapping England lads wearing muscle-tees and expressionless faces? All that bad acting should definitely carry a Triga warning.

Yes, of course, the ‘straight’ subliminal commercial message here, hedged around with misfiring humour, is that if you drink Lucozade Sport, a sugary ‘recovery drink’, you will look like Robshaw. This is generally the way the supplements industry works – some ads more explicitly than others. But I’m not sure that ‘acceptable’ message isn’t drowned out here by more disturbing/confusing ones. Masculinity as male impersonation – a Mission Impossible. (This, after all, is what team sports fans are doing when they wear a replica shirt.)

I admit I’m biased: the recent fashion for styled-beard-with-styled-hair looks to me like a hairy onesie, a mullet mask. One that I imagine wearers peeling off at the end of the day, breathing a sigh of relief, applying lots of wet wipes to their face and neck – and leaving it to soak in a bucket by the bed.

Mind you, I still totally would ‘wear’ Robshaw.

PS This web ad below from the same campaign is also v confusing – but who cares?

Invictus – Smells Like Team Sporno

This bombastic ad for Paco Rabanne’s new fragrance for men ‘Invictus’, released this Summer, stars Aussie rugger bugger Nick Youngquest, his muscles, his tatts, his beard, and most of all his obliques. (They’re the diagonal lines above those track pants with the really worn waist elastic – pointing to his, ahem, priceless package.)

Youngquest

The world’s paparazzi bathe him in money-shot white flashes as he strolls through a stadium showing off his oiled, winning body with a rather self-satisfied grin. Not that we hold it against Nick, of course. We wish we could hold it against him.

The whole ad with its Olympian motifs seems to be referencing the ‘Gods of the Stadium’, ‘Gods of Football‘ sporno vibe – which Nick also appeared in a few years back.

Also with his arms in the air, inviting our attentions:

nick-youngquest