The question of which
sport is better, football or football, is one that never seems to be
resolved. As globalization and technology continue to boost
intercontinental communication, the urgency of settling this precarious
matter once and for all becomes evermore apparent. Realizing that a
showdown is inevitable, Ruthless Reviews has decided to stage the
ultimate online duel between the two sports. An advocate for each sport
will make his case, point by point. Weapons and time of day, you ask? Words at dawn –
and may the best sport win. On to the first battle.

If you’ve clicked on this
article out of a passion for football – be it the American or the world
kind – you’re about to get an unpleasant surprise. Through all those
years and years of eating chips and drinking beer in front of the
screen with your buddies, there’s something they forgot to tell you:
You like other boys.

It’s true. Effeminate little Bruce down the street whom you used to
beat up after his knitting class on Thursdays turned out to be the real
man between you and him. He knew who he was and took his beatings like
a man, while you hid your shameful desires behind a love for the oldest
male bonding ritual out there: Sports.

While it’s a public secret that all female athletes are lesbians
(except Russian hammer throwers, who skipped the tom-boy phase and went
straight to being hetero men, moustache and everything), homosexuality
among male athletes and the billions of on-looking men around the world
has remained the last, big fortress of Freudian repression in our
otherwise emancipated minds.

So you thought you
could slap your mates on the back, celebrate scores with hugs and watch
sweaty, muscular men do their thing on TV — several times a week, for
years on end — without anybody calling your bluff? We’re sorry, but
your little charade is over.

We’re here to burn your pathetic Potemkin village to the ground, so
get your strawberry lemonade and that pink thong from the back of the
bottom drawer, because you’re coming out today, and football is coming
out with you.

World football
refuses to play second fiddle to any sport in terms of homosexuality.
Cristiano Ronaldo may occasionally glance enviously at the tight pants
in the NFL, but he wouldn’t be caught dead with a silver helmet or tooth

The overall aim, the very point of both sports is the physical
unification of sweaty men; Goals are but a necessary detour towards the
real goal: The celebratory pile. What I will contend here is that the
difference lies in the manner in which players will allow themselves to
touch each other. As we shall see, these differences are rooted in the
basic cultural heritage specific to the US and Europe respectively.


Fundamentally, America’s puritan past forces NFL players to adopt a
macho facade when the urge to cuddle arises: A touch-down is the cue
for the linemen to get their fat asses moving towards the goal for some
chest-humping and helmet-crashing with that slender, smooth-skinned
running back who seems to possess a strange magnetism in the post-game
sauna sessions. No hugging here, no kissing, no tussling that inviting
afro: That’s a no-no. The perhaps greatest sorrow of the NFL player is
the taboo of the submissive male. The aforementioned moves make it
crystal clear: All males display aggressive, alpha male behavior
instead of establishing a hierarchy that would facilitate a healthy
man-man relationship.


Not so in world football. Here, the cutesy little wingers dribble
enticingly along the sideline, spelling out the words “come and get me,
big boy” with every graceful move, much like a peacock flaunting its
tail in a drag show as old as life itself. The central defenders, at
the mercy of hormonal drugs and instinct, heed the call and go in for
the tackle. Whether they make it or not is of no real importance; The
dribbler will fall to the ground, roll around, scream and generally
make little doubt about his status as molestee. Having gone through
this ritual, the scene is now set for consummation: A hand reaches out
from above, the winger is pulled to his feet, asses are patted, hair is
tussled and affable smiles exchanged.

Similarly, celebrations after goals are not hindered by shoulder
pads or helmets; The pile of players is a skin buffet where only
experience and speed determines whether you are blessed with a crotch
in your face (the crown jewel) or will have to settle for armpits. We
are left, then, with the question of whether homosexuality is better
expressed closeted or out in the open. American football vs. world
football fagdom is a choice between foreplay and actual, unbridled

My personal verdict? I don’t know much about gay, but I know what I like. And I likes me some unabashed ball-fondling.



Not surprisingly,
considering that he comes from a country that reluctantly outlawed
kiddie porn sometime in July, Niels fails to grasp the real appeal of
Puritanism. Sex is better when it’s wrong and ritualistically denied.
In heterosexual terms, insofar as one can understand them, you might
ask a girl that you’re plugging if she’s a whore. You want her to say,
“Yes, I’m a fucking whore. ” You don’t want her to say, “No, I am an
adult woman possessing a perfectly normal and healthy sexuality. A
little to your left please.”

In the same vein, where’s the allure in Europe’s gay community
romping freely about a grassy field with fiercely competing hairdos?
No, it’s far more titillating to have teams named The Bears, The
Packers and The Browns and pretend that nothing could be more normal.
Or to watch the Raiders vs. The Vikings: two teams named for nautical
plunderers of booty and to pretend that we are interested in the
cheerleaders. It’s like watching an episode of “Sex and the City” with
a loving partner and a glass of syrah versus a furtive trip to a rest
stop after your secretly despised wife has fallen asleep. There’s no
doubt which one is more exciting.

Each play in American
football begins with the quarterback and center simulating, not only
anal sex, but the subsequent birthing of a butt baby. Yes, there are
tight ends and wide receivers running ‘up & outs’ and ‘hail marys’
against defensive packages. But even football terminology that lacks
any clearly identifiable sexual connotation sounds gay, like ‘button
hook’ and ‘deep cross.’ Players are in constant and close physical
contact. But that’s just plain gay. The NFL is kinky gay, which is why
the players go through the entire performance wearing chastity belts,
in the form of athletic supporters. The frustration, building through
hours of competition and agonizing commercial breaks, must be nearly
unbearable. No wonder “Romo” was such an asshole, his only flicker
affirmation in life coming in rare encounters with native speakers of


In the rest of the world all they really do is wear shorts and
tickle each other’s coin purses. It’s festive, color coordinated,
antiquing gay. American football is hankie code, fist sized glory hole,
“your dungeon or mine?” gay. It’s a blow out.



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