College Football: The Last Bastion of the Closeted Gay Man in America
Yesterday, I wrote about things that are likely to get one sent not merely to Hell, but to the special level of Hell reserved for blasphemers, mimes, and IRS agents. Today, I am going to write about things that in these parts will get one's head stomped, because the words of Philip Fulmer are Holy Writ around here, and any who dare speak against him or his boys are reckoned heretics every bit as much as those who suggest that maybe God created the Earth in five days instead of six (or seven, if you count His day off). But, as it always has been, my motto is, "If you're not offended, then you're probably not paying attention." So, with a crack of the old Chef's knuckles as he sits down to type, here we go. Get your righteous indignation ready.
This time of year, millions of people gather together to celebrate the season. No, I'm not talking about Halloween parties or day-after-Thanksgiving sales. To give you a hint, here in East Tennessee, it means hordes of people wearing orange and white, marching around in lock-step chanting, "Go Vols!" or some variant of that. Yes, I'm talking about college football, the second religion of too many Americans (or third if you count Oprah). As someone who has never understood the appeal of a game whose sole purpose seems to involve bludgeoning opponents into submission (and if I wanted to see that, I'd watch wrestling and at least get a soap opera along with the bludgeoning), I'm somewhat bemused as to how a game that combines pointless violence with nitpicky rules technicalities enjoys such a wide fan base. I originally figured it must be a sort of Warhammer for those who think that Warhammer is for pasty-faced geeks living in their parents' basements - a hobby that satisfies the same urges, but being conveniently both socially acceptable and without straining the thought processes. However, I believe I have found the true reason why so many people - most of them men - have such fervor for the sport.
You see, football (or "American football", as it's known in countries foolish enough to have the mistaken notion that a sport called "football" should actually involve kicking the ball more than a few times per game) is the last refuge of the closeted homosexual man in America.
In an age of tolerance, acceptance, and gay rights, it is good to know that some men in this country follow the age-old tradition of repressing their true feelings and getting a secret rush of happiness in their pants while watching sweaty young men wrestle each other to the ground. Football is the ultimate testosterone-laden male domination fantasy, lacking only the whips and chains and nifty dungeon decor. Who cares if the sub isn't a woman? He's still your bitch when you flatten him. And be sure to say "thank you" by slapping his ass when he gets up - he loves that.
Don't misunderstand me. If you claim to be straight and enjoy watching football, I'm not saying that you like to do the pooper polka with other men (although you might just want to reexamine your feelings if you get a little too happy when someone dances in the end zone). Watching football doesn't automatically make you a homosexual. However, getting a little too into the game could be an indicator of something you're not letting come to the light. Nor am I implying that if you are a gay man who likes football that you watch it only because it involves muscular men pounding each other. I am merely suggesting that there may be a subtle undercurrent that only some of the fans are picking up on.
“But Chef!” you cry, “What about the women fans?” Ah, yes. Those. Some of them watch mainly because their boyfriends or husbands do, and they want to feel like part of the action. I hate to tell you this, ladies, but if Chucko gets a little too close to the tube when the quarterback bends over, someday he might just be leaving you for someone with a back hairier than yours.
As for the rest of the ladies watching this tribal ritual, they'll probably mention the number-one reason they do: the butts. That's right. It's not the scoring points, and it's not the strategy. It's the fact that those pants are very, very tight. Or so I've heard, anyway. The Chef is himself flamingly heterosexual. Really.
Anyway, if that's enough to attract women away from becoming lesbians, then it could be a big draw for men still living in the closet (in a metaphorical sense - those who literally live in closets are more likely to be eunuchs). Never underestimate the power of the subconscious. Not only that, but as I said before, it's socially acceptable. Football is a perfectly “normal” hobby (unlike, say, collecting spores, molds, and fungus) that society cheers for. What better outlet for someone with repressed feelings to use?
But surely the presence of scantily-clad cheerleaders on the field could mitigate the presence of so much beefcake. Perhaps, but the real starring attractions aren't waving pompons. Ask any fan to name one famous cheerleader and they'll draw a blank (aside from the star of Debbie Does Dallas, something that they probably watched as more cover). Ask them to name their favorite quarterback and they'll hit it right off the bat (mixing my sports metaphors here, but what can you do?). You know who's really important to them. The cheerleaders are just camouflage.
But, in regards to the cheerleaders, there is, of course, always the option of being bisexual. You know what they say about bisexuality: it automatically doubles your chance of getting a date Saturday night. In this case, the game has a double draw. The best of both worlds, if you will.
At any rate, there it is. The real reason behind the pervasive, inescapable glut of men stripping nekkid and painting their bodies in their favorite team's colors. That reason is indubitably hot, blazing, repressed homosexual man-lust. Nothing else explains it.
Never mind that many college athletes - mostly football and basketball players - get a pass for committing crimes that would get an average Joe like the Chef locked away for a good long while (there's probably a joke somewhere in there about prison rape, but I'm not going there). Never mind that coaches get paid ten times what professors do. And especially never mind that institutions of higher learning become better known for their athletic programs than for academic achievements. None of that's important. What's important is the holiest of sports, one ordained by God to complement the consumption of cheap domestic beer - football.
The Chef is, as you might tell, just a little bitter, having been shove into one too many lockers by football players jealous of his stunning intellect. Perhaps if the Chef's intellect was a little more stunning, he might have run away before said football players shoved him into the locker. Doing things like asking them when they had the bolts in their necks removed does tend to tick them off just a little.
Say, that reminds me of a little joke I heard about the University of Tennessee. You know why their team color is orange, don't you? It's because you can wear it to the game on Saturday, hunting on Sunday, and picking up trash the rest of the week.
Another old favorite of mine: two Florida State football players are riding in a car. Who's driving? The answer, of course, is “The police officer.”
Now, the old Chef knows he's bound to get more than a few nasty comments because of this little nugget of wisdom. In fact, this may well be the most offensive thing that he has ever written (and considering that yesterday I wrote about starting a cult to raise money to buy the severed head of Ronald Reagan an immortal robot body so he can reign over America for all eternity (praise Capitalism!), that's saying something). However, there is an old adage that the truth hurts, and if someone's protesting that loudly, the Chef must have touched a nerve. There wouldn't be such a reaction out of people if there wasn't a grain of truth somewhere in there. The lady (or the men, in this case) doth protest too much.
At any rate, I don't think I'm going to see very many comments from Alabama fans. Most of them can't read.
See more articles from: The Chef's Article-A-Day
The Maitre d'
A Disclaimer
The Diner
"Maybe I'm just lazy, being gay. Maybe I want to have someone to watch football with, AND have sex with, without having to drive across town.
...
No, I'm just a faggot, that's all there is to it."
The Maitre d'
Wow.
(Chef: that is not a challenge for you to do better... er, worse.)
The Chef
A challenge?
Sir Silverware
The Truth
Of course, I don't watch college football. Graduating from an NCAA Division XVII school tends to do that to you.
The Chef