I vividly remember grim warnings from my high school gym teachers, who lectured us on exactly what would happen if we didn’t use them.
Best case scenario, we’d never be capable of have children. We’d twist the incorrect way, and that’s it, our reproductive organs could be mangled beyond repair.
And therefore was if we were lucky. Worse case, we’d suffer testicular trauma. There’d be ruptures, fractures, contusions, torsions; there was no end towards the horrible things that could happen to our nuts during the friendly game of pickleball.
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Nevertheless I haven’t put on a jockstrap since sentences like “I’m concered about tomorrow’s algebra test” and “I sincerely feel that dry-humping my girlfriend during the slow dance at prom looks like a meaningful relationship milestone” were a few things i seriously considered regularly.
Which is, until a pr rep for Diamond MMA compression jock and cup system-designed for just $90-sent me a complimentary set several weeks ago.
When your first thought was, “Hey, isn’t the same cup Dairy Queen uses of their Banana Splits?”, we are totally on a single page.
At first, I left it on my own desk, like a kind of perverse tip jar. I even briefly used it like a makeshift container for pens and Post-It notes.
I made a decision to strap it on for that Men’s Health Monday morning editorial meeting.
There’s something weirdly exhilarating about gonna work wearing the level of testicular protection usually restricted to MMA athletes.
Because once your balls are that ensconced, you know, without having a shadow of a doubt, how the day won’t end with you being rushed to the e . r . with internal scrotal bleeding.
Naturally, you might point out that about most days-especially when your work, like mine, involves extended periods of typing with a computer, or having conversations with calm, entirely nonviolent people who are unlikely to judo chop you from the nuts without warning.
But there I found myself, all but daring my fellow editors-with simply a smug smile-to thrust their elbows into my gonads, or grind the company end of the shoes into my giggleberries.
Not surprisingly, there was no takers.
Afterward, I got to talking with some my male coworkers about balls-hey, these topics just come up-and what, if something, we’re doing to protect them. I learned that not really a single one wears jockstraps anymore.
Not just throughout the office. Even at the gym. Or wherever they work out. They’re essentially free-balling it.
Jay Ferrari, a consistent MH contributor who has a black belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu, says the very last time he wore a jockstrap “was for pee wee football. But a jockstrap during college football or jiu jitsu? Never.”
So just why not? Why were jockstrap sale necessary in your youth, although not a lot in 2015?
When our senior high school gym coaches warned us of the testicular Armageddon that may be a consequence of letting our boys dangle unprotected, were they loaded with shit?
“Probably,” says Brian Steixner, M.D., Director in the Institute of Men’s Health at Jersey Urology Group in Atlantic City.
Dr. Steixner has treated some truly horrifying, gory male organ injuries. But with regards to testicular trauma, a minimum of among non-pro athletes, he insists it rarely happens.
Of the approximately 2,500 patients he treats annually, no more than a pair of those suffer from scrotal injury.
So how exactly does it happen? “Maybe a horse kicked them in the balls,” he says. “Or there seemed to be a vehicle accident where the steering wheel went to their nuts. Sometimes it involves farm equipment or heavy machinery. Your task involves pulling a strap and something breaks and snaps.”
Put simply, nothing that’s more likely to happen to you. (Aside from the auto accident. But even so, developing a steering wheel rammed into the balls appears like an extensive shot.)
“Modern boxer briefs virtually solves the problem,” he says. “You don’t have to wear this weird contraption containing these straps that wrap around your butt. You can wear tight-fitting underwear, because it does everything a jockstrap did, which can be keep things high and tight. That’s all you need.”
While underwear has evolved, not much has changed in jockstrap and cup technology, which first came into vogue in the late 1800s.
“A jockstrap can be a jockstrap, today because it was back then,” says Kevin Flaherty, whose great-great-great-grandfather founded one of the primary jockstrap manufacturers in the united states, the J.B. Flaherty Company, Inc., in 1898.
In past times 100-plus years, the types of materials have changed. Flaherty’s company-now Martin Inc., which produces Flarico, Bub, and Activeman products-has changed from knitted waistbands and straps into more at ease woven products.
The waistbands now have a plush back, and there isn’t a three-inch-wide piece of rough elastic. But furthermore, and some fashion colors, there hasn’t been lots of dexjpky93 inside the design.
Except, obviously, for products like the Diamond MMA. Their compression-jock-and-cup system is manufactured from polycarbonate, a durable thermoplastic material that’s found in bulletproof glass.
That may be useful should your job requires people seeking to kill you, or at a minimum severely damage your yam bag. But also for us non-MMA athletes, should we require very much ball-protecting technology?
Sure, fluke accidents happen. But that doesn’t mean you ought to walk around wearing a helmet and elbow pads. That will be insane.
“The only other time I’ve seen serious scrotal injury was from a parent,” Dr. Steixner says.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Like a dad getting kicked hard inside the nuts by among his kids. That takes place constantly.”
“It does?” I ask this although I absolutely know he’s right.
I’m a mother or father of a 4-year-old boy, and I’ve been about the receiving end of the barbarous foot or elbow. I’m well aware of what it’s like to receive a crushing ball blast from a kid not of sufficient age yet to appreciate that scrotums have a similar general effectiveness against blunt force trauma as hard-boiled eggs.
Later that night, as i go back home, I’m still wearing my Diamond MMA compression jock and cup. But unlike the professional interactions with my co-workers, I don’t discourage a violent reciprocity with my testicles.
“C’mon!” I shout at my son, who can’t believe what his daddy is asking him. “Hit me again! Really throw your whole body into it now!”
“Everything regarding this makes me uncomfortable,” she announces, this way proclamation will somehow make my son stop hurtling into my nutsack with extreme prejudice.
My son and i also just laugh, and then he is constantly deliver blow after merciless blow onto what should be my soft extremities.
“It’s okay,” I try to convey to her, after pretending for the umpteenth time that my son had caused me irreparable scrotal damage. “This is what boys do.”
Then he tries on his very own cup-the Diamond MMA people were kind enough to transmit me two-and I give his groin a pounding (although admittedly I pull my punches.)
My wife eventually walks away. She can’t accept it anymore. But my son and that i keep laughing, whilst keeping punching the other from the nuts, impressed by the loud CLUNK our knuckles make when they connect to what must be testicles.
“This is the greatest evening of living,” my son laughs, falling on the floor, clutching his ribs with laughter.
Testicular violence is certainly not to laugh at. But testicular violence where nobody gets hurt due to modern technology designed particularly for professional athletes? Well, that’s simply a reminder that we’re living in a remarkable age, unlike anything our senior high school gym teachers may have imagined.