I’ve never really been a big sports fan.

Perhaps it was that horrific night that ended my Y-Ball career. (Just an hour and a half into it.)

Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m 6’3” and 145 pounds.

Maybe I just like other creative outlets.

<coughs>

Yet, on a recent Saturday night I found myself taking in a college volleyball game.

I had heard great things about this year’s team.

“Dude – they’ve got great asses…”

“If I could win her for a match…”

“Did you see her spike that? Damn, I’d pay to be that ball.”

Someone told me they were winning, too… but I forget exactly what their record was.

Regardless, I lay on my bed helplessly wasting away a Saturday evening staring at the televised event.

It was impressive, don’t get me wrong: The home team was scoring, the away team was losing, and the fans were… well, they weren’t really there.

But hey: the team was still scoring.

The longer I stared, the longer I realized something: These girls were very attractive, very athletic, very datable, and yet annoying as all friggin’ hell.

Allow me to explain by backtracking:

Despite their homophobic appearance, male jocks seem to be very, very affectionate following any sort of scoring.

This applies on and off the field.

Ass-smacks, high-fives, bear hugs, and Lord knows what else await the winning receiver of a 56 yard TD.

They scream, yell, smack, and get on with life.

That’s football. Scoring rarely happens back to back when it comes to pigskin tossing. Yet in volleyball, scoring is an every minute occurrence. (Give or take.)

So, for the sake of energy (and spectator sanity), you think it would be possible for our female volleyball friends to reserve their obnoxious cheers for the end of their matches, as opposed to after every fucking set.

If you’ve ever been witness to a women’s volley match, you know exactly what I’m talking about:

Serve, set, spike, ball hits arms… ball hits more arms, ball hits floor.

Girls go wild.

<repeat>

They cheer, they yell, they scream, they moan… all in voices and pitches that have dogs barking for up to a third-quarters mile away.

And they keep doing it, again and again.

They cheer for the game, when the game isn’t even over yet.

It’s a case of premature triumphant muliebral climax.

(Well – it is about time they know what that feels like…)

Now, I will be the first to admit that I’m far from a seasoned veteran in sports.

The basis of my knowledge comes from the days of my high school band sitting in our football stadium on the darkest, coldest nights. These memories, combined with a little web surfing and ESPN provide me minimal knowledge of the athletic world.

Hell, I don’t even know what channel ESPN is in Muncie… let alone take the time to sit down and watch it.

I should, though… If you think about it, they really don’t show that many women’s sports, either.

Instead, network officials cut to commercial. Studies have shown that men prefer beer over estrogen-filled mid-game pep-sessions.

Those men were drinking beer at the time, though.

..and they were watching the Detroit Tigers.

It’s not that I feel women’s sports suck or are pointless.

Those phrases are best used to describe our country’s presence in Iraq.

In actuality, many of these girls are awesome people outside of their respective sport. In fact, most of the girls (softball and basketball players, especially) are great people all around.

Your mileage may very, though.

But, I think that if certain women’s sports want to really start being respected and recognized, they need to cut down on the cheerleading until after the victory.

Perhaps the locker room?

Before you start attacking me, I’ll just go ahead and admit it: You’re absolutely right; this won’t help my chances of “getting any” in the near future.

I’ve taken this into account, and, all things considered, I’m not that worried. In fact, I’m sure it’s for the better.

They probably cheer after that, too.