If you have the patience, here is a scene from a story I wrote (and which, to be blunt, I consider excellent) where some college guys and some dadas are watching football on a large screen tv on campus and they discuss the nature of the new, revealing football pants and the absence of jockstraps. Give it a look...
Kirk flashed him one of his winning smiles and they took off toward the Union.
In the TV room at the student union, a large flat screen was broadcasting a game between the Cowboys and the Rams. About a dozen students mostly juniors and seniors and all of them athletes, were watching and commenting. In addition, four older men were there. Skye figured they were probably the fathers of some of the jocks watching tv who had dropped them off for the start of classes next week. Though he had learned to suppress the pain as best he could, Skye couldn’t help feeling what he always did in situations where dads and sons were together: a bitter wound that started in his lower gut and pierced like a needle through his heart. He wished, not for the last time, that he had had a dad-son experience like this.
He was startled out of his musing by the comments of the older men:
“Now what Hollywood costume designer guy decided that giving the players see-through pants was a good idea? What the hell, man? You can see that guy’s jockstrap right through his pants!”
One of the athletes responded with, “I think it’s for practice mostly; when it gets really hot, you know, and you need all the air-conditioning you can get.”
A second father, bearded, athletic, and somewhat burly answered, “Well, I guess I can see that, but know what else I can see? The guy’s straps. Does he want the entire country to see his jock?”
A third dad, also big and muscled said, “Frankly, I doubt he cares. I mean, did you care when they started doing interviews in the guys’ locker room? No one seemed to give a shit if some reporter, even a woman, had shoved a mic in some players face while his teammates stripped down to shower behind the woman. It’s a different era, man.”
To Skye’s surprise, Kirk spoke up. “Well, sir, I have to agree with that. I’m on the wrestling team and in a lot of the wrestling world, it’s been pretty standard to just wear your singlet and let everyone see. Although, our coach insists we jock up. He’s not a big one for having your junk clearly outlined for everyone to see.”
The older men laughed at this. “Yeah,” said one, “I do remember the wrestlers would just pretty much show the world their dicks and balls. We football players always wore jocks; it was stupid not to, and it was just the way it was. From what I understand now and have seen on the internet, these pants have some kind of design so you don’t need a jock.”
His son spoke up: “I told you, dad. They have this built-in brief that takes the place of a jock.”
The dad answered, “Yeah, I know, but have you looked at them? Doesn’t seem like it’d hold your balls in place. If you remember, the strap I gave you was like mine and did the job, right?’
“Yessir,” grinned his son, a tall quarterback-looking player with gleaming teeth and a square jaw. “Can’t argue with that.”
“So,” continued his father, “maybe you could persuade the guys on the football team to jock up anyway. I’d like to have grandchildren some day!”
The men laughed and nodded at this. His son only said, “I’ve tried, and to be honest, about half the guys still jock up.”
“Keep it up… er, I mean….” The father caught his double entendre and all the guys laughed even more.
