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I’ll Let You Bump, Just So Long As I Get to Spike

You wanna know what’s unfair? I’ll tell you what’s unfair.

I play volleyball. I’m not bad at it; I’m not great, but I do okay. I’m good enough that it’s actually interesting for me to watch volleyball on TV, to see what the really good players do, and pick up pointers, that sort of thing.

You know, in the same way that watching golf or skiing isn’t interesting. I’ve tried those those things — I’m not good. I’ve never been good. And I’m never going to be good.

I’m more likely to physically hurt myself playing those things than improving to the point where I could talk about the sport without some measure of personal shame and embarrassment. So I sure as hell don’t want to watch some smart-ass goober on television making me look like a brainless jackass by being infuriatingly good at one of those stupid sports. I’m just too far removed from real ‘talent’ to make it worth my time.

But volleyball is different. I don’t do the right thing often enough on the court, but I occasionally know what the right thing is. So I genuinely like watching volleyball, as a sport.

So what’s unfair about that?

Well, volleyball’s not on the tube too often. Once in a while, they’ll show a college match, but that’s about it for the indoor game. If there’s any interest out there, it’s in the general vicinity of beach volleyball. And why not, right? What could be better than watching ripped, tanned, and nearly-naked members of whichever sex you’re attracted to getting sweaty and sandy and patting each others’ asses?

Nothing, if you’re in the mood for softcore porn. (Which I usually am, of course, but that’s not the point. Stick with me here.)

See, the problem is that I — and, it seems, only I — actually want to watch beach volleyball for the sport it is, and not the pants-tenting adolescent wet dream fantasy that it… well, also is, frankly. And all of that sweaty-girls-in-teeny-bikinis really gets in the way of trying to analyze each point on its strategic merits and athletic execution. Honestly, how can I be expected to take away anything about the game of volleyball from these matches when there are bikini wedgies and bare hips and nipples poking through Spandex all over the place? It’s all very conflicting.

But that’s not the unfair part. That’s just reality. And honestly, I’ve managed to cope with balancing my two, erm, ‘interests‘ in watching women’s beach volleyball. During the points, it’s all business. In between, before and after — and especially during the post-match celebrating — there’s time for a little ogling. I’ve done a lot of work, and honed my mental skills with years of practice, until I can finally, barely, manage to concentrate on volleyball when I’m supposed to.

At least, I could. That’s where the ‘unfair’ part comes in.

You see, I’ve started paying more attention to beach ball recently, and I’ve found the bios of the USA’s top beach players. The more astute among you will note a disturbing trend. Namely, the women players are starting to develop porn star names. Have a look — Misty May? Holly McPeak? Oh, come on!

Look, it’s all I can frigging do to keep my mind on the game as it is, with all the scantily-clad frolicking going on out there. But if I know, in the back of my mind, that one of the women is named ‘Holly Mc-frigging-Peak’?! Forget it! I’m done. With a name like that, the corny porno music could start at any time — if just one pizza guy were to wander onto the court, it’d be all over. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate on the game with that hanging over my head?

Hey, don’t laugh, you man-watchers out there — you’ve got the same issues, you know. Dax Holdren? Now there’s a porno character’s name, if I’ve ever heard one. (Not a porn actor’s name, though — that would be ‘Dicks Holdren’.) And don’t even get me started on Kevin Wong.

Anyway, that’s my latest problem, and it’s not damned fair. Plus, it’s getting worse — I’m certain of it. Sure, right now, only two of eight US beach ladies have porn names… but do you really think it’ll end there? We all know who the pimply-faced, heavy-breathing target demographic of these telecasts really are. It’s only a matter of time before we’re sending ‘Christi Crotchless’ and ‘Sandy Nipples’ to the Summer Olympics. Can naked volleyball be far behind?

Say… actually, that’s not a bad idea. Hey, it’s not fair, but that would be hot. Who am I to stand in the way of progress?