Attraction
by Gwen Boswell
What attracts the opposite
sex is a much researched and recorded topic, and
one conclusion is that women often find sportsmen
very attractive due to their appreciation of the
male form toned. Also, maintaining a desired
level of fitness is seen as a very positive
characteristic, due to the discipline and hard
work that comes with being slightly bulgy. Note
the word slightly here, as men that
have thigh muscles developed to an extent that
their walk resembles a baby’s gait when
wearing a soggy nappy, or, parts of their upper
torso are similar to washed pillows that have
inadvertently gone through a 1000rpm spin cycle,
are automatically excluded from the following
personal assessment of sportsmen and their rate
of appeal.
On considering the sport
that has included in its ranks the most desired
shaped men, both physically and mentally that I
personally would be attracted to, I began with
dismissing the golfers. Notwithstanding some of
them are indeed reasonably fit, I cannot respect
a man that chooses to dress like Rupert the Bear
when playing his sport. Yes, yes, I agree that
over recent years they have improved their colour
co-ordination, but this is still a brotherhood
where its men desire more than anything to have
hanging in their wardrobe a green jacket.
I was rather shocked when
surfing the sports channels of TV the other day,
to see a darts match being played. I was almost
at the point of writing to Foxtel to ascertain if
the company had taken legal advice before airing
this activity on a channel related solely to
sport. I thought there has to be a legal
definition of sport somewhere, and one would
think that it has to involve some sort of
physical movement that gets the heart rate up? (Besides that is, running around
trying to find out who has nicked your fags!). But I restrained myself and
generously added these, ahem, sportsmen to my
audit. I must say, the dart players did score
very well on their powers of concentration and
magnificent eyesight. Sadly though, their score
was drastically cut on the basis that there
appears little athleticism involved to perfect
throwing a small, pointy thing over a few metres.
Plus, I could not be doing with having carrots
every night as part of my dinner.
Two groups that were also
very quickly given the flick, were the ice hockey
players and those burly gents that play rugby.
Sure, the ice hockey players are skilful and in
great shape, but I would be a little nervous
dating a man that, when his opposing player
scores a goal, he feels a need to immediately
whack him violently over the head with a big
stick. The rugby players were dismissed on the
same type of grounds, as some of their on-field
habits are just a tad too basic for my liking
– eye gouging being one of them.
The footballers I examined
with great scrutiny and they almost came out on
top, but then I thought, could I really be with a
man that wants to be in the hairdressers more
than I do? Or insists on driving a red Ferrari
even before his mid-life crisis? What about if he
wants to pick me up from Sainsburys after I have
done the weekly shop, where will I put my
fourteen carrier bags? There would be toilet
rolls and potatoes rolling all over the place.
No, my ideal sportsman would also have to drive a
reasonably sensible car.
I therefore moved on to the
football managers, as given that they are usually
ex-players, they are generally not in too bad a
condition. They soon were given the boot (sorry....),
because I became perplexed about the amount of
gum that it seems compulsory for them to chew.
Look at all the work involved with getting that
off the garden pavers, or the regular jaunts to
the drycleaners due to it being stuck on the
inside of their sheepskin coat pockets. Plus,
there is the financial uncertainty that comes
with being associated with a football manager and
I am sure most of them would have bad nerves.
So in the end I settled for
the cricketers. When I was little, I remember
thinking it was a bit strange that many of these sportsmen
were the same shape as my dear old dad, who
enjoying a few pints on a regular basis was of
rotund stature and thus slow on his feet. It
seems those days are now long gone, and the
cricketers are muscular, athletic, brave (I am
thinking of the poor buggers that have to face
the likes of Brett Lee bowling at them in excess
of 145kph!) and their sport is truly unique. They
have to be constantly alert under extreme
conditions, including having a pint of
perspiration sloshing around inside their helmets
whilst standing at the crease. I imagine it would
be rather lovely sitting in the stands supporting
my cricketer during the long hot summers and this
support would have the added benefit of me
acquiring a large collection of fashionable hats.
I feel it is such a dignified sport too, due to
the cricketers not getting really dirty and what
other sport stops for tea?
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