Women’s basketball is weird because the players virtually never dunk, and when they do, it’s a big deal. Women’s softball is weird because they pitch underhand and the ball is bigger. Women’s golf is weird because the ladies get to tee off closer to the greens. Women’s hockey isn’t weird — it’s a downright hoot, but for all the wrong reasons.
Yet here I stand before the court of women’s rights, hereby repenting my chauvinistic views on women’s sports. Before last weekend, I just didn’t find women’s sports interesting.
Then I watched Maria Sharapova play tennis in her white outfit. On Saturday she beat Serena Williams 6-1, 6-4 to capture her first Wimbledon title, at the age of 17.
The jailbait factor notwithstanding, last week I publicly announced on my blog that Maria Sharapova is a “suitable candidate to carry my child.” (For those who will remind me of her age, I factor in that it will take me at least until her 18th birthday to become famous enough to meet her.)
Of course, my Maria is not the exception — women’s tennis is littered with babes, even if you take Anna Kournikova out of the mix (and you should). Some of the backhanding beauties include the United States’ own Ashley Harkleroad, Serbia’s Jelena Dokic, Slovakia’s Daniela Hantuchova and a slew of other females whose names qualify as bad Scrabble hands.
It hit me in the head like a brick tied to an anvil and superglued to a sledgehammer — I need to start following women’s sports. It is for the obvious reason that some of the athletes are bound to be hot, such as the gorgeous Olympic softball pitcher Jennie Finch and Seattle Storm (WNBA) guard Sue Bird.
Of course, the theory that women’s sports has more sex appeal than competitive value is not a new concept.
ESPN.com’s variety section, Page 2, celebrates the world’s most desirable jockettes with their annual Hottest Female Athlete contest, which is decided solely by fan voting. Previous winners include Kournikova, Finch and soccer player Heather Mitts — (I s’pose I’ll go there) whom I’d personally like to get my mitts on.
Sports fanatics ought to be allotting time to follow women’s games for one reason alone — checkin’ out the hotties. If the women out there think this stance is sexist, then think about why you follow men’s sports. Perhaps you have a thing for Derek Jeter, Tom Brady, one of the A-Rods (Alex Rodriguez or Andy Roddick) or David Beckham?
Yeah, like you broads watch football to appreciate run blocking and not the tight pants.
My mom had a crush on Atlanta Braves pitcher John Smoltz, but rumor has it she just claimed to have one in order to frustrate me as I watched the Braves growing up.
Of course, none of these women are attainable — they will all date celebrities whose droppings will sell on eBay for more than whatever is in your bank account. That’s the norm with male athletes — Lance Armstrong is dating Sheryl Crow, Roddick is hooked up with Mandy Moore and Tiger Woods somehow bagged Swedish model Elin Nordegren. (At this point in the column, I will not — repeat, not — make a crude joke as to what Tiger now considers to be the 19th hole.)
These weird women’s sports are not to be viewed by men the same way they adore men’s sports — baseball for its stellar defense and amazing home runs, basketball for its gravity-defying dunks, and football for its spine-shattering tackles — but to dare to dream that perhaps these sporty señoritas just might fall in love with our smiles at an after-game party that we crash.
Of course, Finch is engaged and Kournikova is married to someone for now, but who are the attainable athletes?
Why, our local college chicks.
Indeed, the local Falcon girls’ teams are by no means unapproachable. One of my friends is dating basketball player (and loyal reader) Kelly Kapferer. Last year I lived on the 5th floor of Offenhauer East along with many of the women’s soccer players. I even used to date the former backup goalie of the women’s club hockey team (slogan: “We’re falling over less and less each game!”).
I’m sure the same goes for any college (exceptions: University of Connecticut basketball team, University of Hawaii bikini carwash team).
Being a women’s sports groupie might not be such a bad thing. It might beat spending three hours a week picking out a tight end for my fantasy football team. I probably won’t date any of them, for nerds don’t often breed with jocks, plus they might be afraid I would make fun of them in this column.
That and my girl Maria might get jealous.
Feminists and sports fans alike can contact Matt at [email protected].
