Like our vaunted varsity athletes, I choose to put my body through hell on a weekly basis for the sake of sport. I’ve got to keep my liver sharp by way of draining bottles upon bottles of Wild Turkey 101 and chasing them with MGD. Somehow, for reasons that escape me, this fierce commitment to intemperance has yet to earn me a free ride, unlike the spoiled kids sporting the Nike Swoops and script logos. Personally, I think winning a case race with Bud Heavy takes more skill and endurance than some bullshit, 100 meter freestyle, but let’s take a look at the five types of real athletes you’re guaranteed to see gallivanting around campus.
5. The juiced-out gymnast
We’re kicking off this list with the most intimidating of the five. She out-lifts you. Hell, she’ll even correct your form. Her hands are tougher than steer hide and she has the delts of a zuit suit jacket. You know she could kick your ass. Yet, something about that chalky, white-knuckled grip makes you grind your teeth. The flag’s at half mast already.
4. The club wrestler who uses your gym exclusively
I realize club wrestlers may not have access to the million-dollar facilities haunted by top-flight footballers. But this guy is 6′ 1″, leaner than ground turkey, and goddammit he knows it. He’ll spend hours walking the mats of the campus’ most frequented gym and you know he goes back to his suite immediately afterwards to stroke himself to the thought of someone asking how he cuts down to his middle-school-emo-girl weight class every winter. As far as he’s concerned, the less fabric over his torso, the better. We see you, Bruno. Now, are you done with the 35s?
3. TIE: The lone lineman, The WR posse
Most D-I schools keep their footballers pretty well insulated. Most don’t have to eat the same peasant food that will plague your body for five and a half years. They don’t live in the same sweltering, tin can dorms you once called home. Considering how many guys are on the roster, it’s astonishing how few you see with any regularity. With that being said, you may cross paths with one of two types of football players:
At times, you’ll find yourself a few paces behind a tall, fat kid in spandex and wonder if he even owns a fucking mirror. That is, until you see the high-70s jersey number embroidered next to the United luggage tag that proves he traveled to some shitty, 6 – 6 bowl game in South Buttfuck, Kentucky. Were you expecting Jake Long?
Other times, you’ll be in queue at the campus Burger King, waiting to piss away roughly 35 of a pledge’s 4,000 dining hall points when you’ll see 14 tall heads o’ dreadlocks, loudly heading towards the pickup window. You recognize them right away as the school’s pass-catchers and realize they’re all eating the same shit as you. Does the team even have 14 receivers on the roster? How does one eat a number three with two sides of chicken fries four days a week, yet maintain a 4.5 second 40 time? Either way, it’s impressive.
2. The emaciated jogger
You assume he’s part of some irrelevant varsity team, seeing as no guy runs shirtless in boy shorts around campus for fun (though your new member educator begs to differ). Maybe he’s part of a cruel research study. Did the allies just liberate Poland? Is he mere yards ahead of a pursuing SS officer and his snarling German Shepard? He might be tennis, though he’s probably cross country. The poor man hasn’t eaten a carb in 17 years. God forbid if a moped were to hit this gaunt fuck, lest he be reduced to a pile of bone dust and mangled flesh.
1. The Frisbee assholes
They ain’t playing canjam and you’re pretty sure your school doesn’t have a disk golf squad. However, on the first 50+ degree day of spring, the cargo-clad dildos will surely be out occupying the majority of the campus’ most conspicuous green space, hoping to relive the glory days of being mediocre JV baseball players, one errant disk throw at a time. There’s no objective to their game, aside from putting their incredibly average athleticism on display. Worse yet, one guy will continually lay out like he’s Hunter motherfucking Pence, yet never haul in a pass. And you hope that ass ninja pays for his try-hard ways via a broken wrist.
Then, there’s the guy who only shoots threes during intramurals. Fuck that guy..
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