Voy Por Ustedes

Now that football is dead to me, I'll be focusing on it's distant Australian cousin Aussie Rules. My team is Geelong. I'm not sure of the rules yet, but it's sufficiently violent as to be of little consequence and as an added bonus it does not appear to have the same stench of homo-erotica about it that literally dogs Rugby Union, which is fascinating really, all things considered.

Given the nature of the interaction between the players and the scanty nature of the kits worn, there is still no suspicion Aussie Rules is simply another arm of the underground cottaging movement of the early to mid 19th century from which Rugby has its roots.

You're left in no doubt that what you're witnessing is not simply a fleet of Berties masquerading as sportsmen as you might suspect during a typical six nations Rugby Union fixture. Tight tops yes, even tighter shorts indeed, groping certainly, yet some how the sport remains pure. Remarkable!

I think the two seemingly diametrically opposed instances could only exist in Australia. Bless them, they simply don't think that deeply. Perhaps it's too hot down there. So much grappling, so much sweating, so little clothing, yet there's little doubt that these heterosexual blokes spend their post-match evenings rifling their way through the local population of cocktail waitresses at a speed and with a brutality that would make Tiger Woods envious. Fascinating really.

Labels: Awesome, Sport