Man Post: Unmanly Team Photos

It has been a long, long, lonnnnng time since the last Man Post here at The Point. In fact, I think the last one was within a year or two of the Tennessee King’s first creation of the Internets. Sadly, too much “real life” has come crashing down around me … such as Wednesday’s fantasy football draft, which, frankly, took a long time and is very important, okay? … and I’ve not been able to keep up.

That said, much as The Weekly Must-Have Tune of the Week must make an occasional return, so must Man Post. And here we are. Face to face. A couple of silver spoons.

Wait, no! Sorry … Silver Spoons theme song … NOT VERY MANLY.

Speaking of “NOT VERY MANLY,” I present to you Awful Team Photos -– The Definitive Collection.  You youngsters … and you fathers raising sons … please, please don’t let this be you or any male you love. At 16 or 18 or 20, you, yes you, Strapping Young Athlete, will be thusly tempted. You will think, “Man, I look GOOD.” And you will think, “I look so good that other people should see me looking this good.” And, if such an opportunity presents itself, you will be tempted … horribly, terribly tempted … to think “I look so good, that my friends and I should oil up our rock-hard bods and pose together, with big chains around our necks, around an orange Lamborghini.”

You will be wrong, of course. Because you are, though good-looking, young and foolish.

And then someday you will … tragically, because it could’ve been avoided … show up in The Definitive Collection. And no matter how wonderful you may be as a person, we will laugh at you. Uproariously. For the rest of your life.

[Ed. note: Some of these guys are showing a little too much for comfort, so proceed at your own risk, and keep the eye bleach handy. Consider this one PG-13 at least. And don't blame Allen -- I dared him to post it. --GRD]


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Allen, thanks to your dare (and Gina's parenthetical editorial hint), I now know that Costco sells eye bleach by the barrel. Fully prepared, I gave each photo a careful look and discovered *not one* marching band member in any of them. And feeling convicted that restorative justice is far superior to retribution, I will condignly refuse to point out any similarities between any persons in the photos and someone at the back of the last PFM Christmastime pic.
I submitted this the Friday before vacation ... and after vacation I forgot to come back and answer everyone. My apologies. Jason: Ricks Cafe? Um ... wait there while I do a quick Google search. Ellen: FISHINGONTHEPIER????? Look, you clearly have good taste by virtue of the fact that you are visiting The Point. But ... FISHINGONTHEPIER???? Alan: Awesome story!! I love that! And ... AND ... you'd have spoiled the whole thing if you'd "oiled up" afterward and posed around the nearest Model T hot rod with your pals. Lee: Something more serious? Did you SEE those photos?? Don't you realize how desperate my mission is to save others from such a fate? Or .... ORRRrrrr ... are you trying to keep me from looking too closely at those photos?? Yes, yes ... your comment is quite suspicious. Might one of the young men in those photos ... be YOU???????!!!!!!!
Allen, this is good and you're always a hoot, particularly welcome after such a long absence. However, I was hoping for a somewhat more serious and worldview-oriented "war between the sexes" topic, lightened with your patented sardonic humor, like the other Man Posts. Something along the lines of how frequently Point female bloggers would deserve a whuppin' if they lived in *some* countries. And how ironic it is that the same religion that punishes women for wearing pants has no problem with men wearing skirts. (Insert dig about "It's good to be king - even prince" or something like that.) Hmm - but you're almost certainly right, maybe that topic's too edgy, and 40 lashes can't be made funny no matter how hard you try. // A pity that there isn't a law requiring pants for team photos...
Ok - I accept the photo site as a postmodern rip on the time-honored tradition of team photos as a step towards manhood. That dates all the way back to the neo-classical revival of the Greek idea of sports and education in the early 1800's. But hey! Don't throw out the baby with the wash water. By the time I was in Sr. High School I was no longer playing football in pads, and the only yearbook team photo I appeared in was on the tennis team. However, I was still playing tackle football - sans pads and cleats - every Saturday morning. Highpoint of that season was one Saturday after an easy Friday night varsity game when most of the official varsity jocks challenged us (Key Club) to a game of no-pads. Much of the school was there to witness the slaughter. Long story short: word went out for months afterward that "the jocks won the game but the Key-clubbers won the war." It sorta ended when I delivered a jolt to the varsity starting quarterback that sent him to the hospital for seven stitches, something that infuriated our football coach but won this 16-year-old the admiration of the girls in school for the rest of my high school career. It was definitely a rite of passage that moved me towards manhood before the harsh snows of winter, a basic primal need felt by every adolescent boy. So much for football team photos, modern or postmodern - an important ingredient in survival of the species but do not always tell the whole story!
Ha ha ha ha ha! Thanks for the laugh. But what do I do I actually, um, .... ahem, - liked - *cough*cough* one of them? (such as Fishing on the Pier)
Jocks being stupid? I gasp in shock. Next you'll tell me that there is gambling going on at Ricks Cafe, I suppose.

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