I vividly remember grim warnings from my high school graduation gym teachers, who lectured us on exactly what would happen if we didn’t put them on.
Best case scenario, we’d never have the ability to have children. We’d twist a bad way, and that’s it, our reproductive organs could be mangled beyond repair.
Which was if we were lucky. Worse case, we’d suffer testicular trauma. There’d be ruptures, fractures, contusions, torsions; there seemed to be no end to the horrible things which could happen to our nuts during a friendly bet on pickleball.
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However I haven’t place on a jockstrap since sentences like “I’m concered about tomorrow’s algebra test” and “I sincerely assume that dry-humping my girlfriend in a slow dance at prom looks like a meaningful relationship milestone” were issues i thought about regularly.
That is, until a pr rep for Diamond MMA compression jock and cup system-designed for just $90-sent us a complimentary set a couple weeks ago.
When your first thought was, “Hey, isn’t that the same cup Dairy Queen uses of their Banana Splits?”, then we are totally on a single page.
At the beginning, I left it in my desk, like a kind of perverse tip jar. I even briefly tried it as being a makeshift container for pens and Post-It notes.
I Then chosen to strap it on to the Men’s Health Monday morning editorial meeting.
There’s something weirdly exhilarating about likely to work wearing the level of testicular protection usually reserved for MMA athletes.
Because once your balls are that ensconced, you already know, without having a shadow of your doubt, that this day won’t end along with you being rushed towards the emergency room with internal scrotal bleeding.
Needless to say, you might state that about most days-particularly when your work, like mine, involves extended periods of typing on a computer, or having conversations with calm, entirely nonviolent people who are unlikely to judo chop you within the nuts unexpectedly.
But there I had been, all but daring my fellow editors-with nothing more than a smug smile-to thrust their elbows into my gonads, or grind the company end in their shoes into my giggleberries.
Unsurprisingly, there have been no takers.
Afterward, I bought to speaking with some my male coworkers about balls-hey, these topics just show up-and what, if anything, we’re doing to guard them. I learned that not really a single one of these wears jockstraps anymore.
Not simply across the office. Even at the gym. Or wherever they exercise. They’re essentially free-balling it.
Jay Ferrari, a regular MH contributor who may have 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 mens jockstrap necessary in our youth, yet not so much in 2015?
When our senior high school gym coaches warned us from 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 of your Institute of Men’s Health at Jersey Urology Group in Atlantic City.
Dr. Steixner has treated some truly horrifying, gory male organ injuries. But in relation to testicular trauma, no less than among non-pro athletes, he insists it rarely happens.
From the approximately 2,500 patients he treats each and every year, no more than 2 of those suffer from scrotal injury.
How can it happen? “Maybe a horse kicked them from the balls,” he says. “Or there was an automobile accident the location where the steering wheel went inside their nuts. It sometimes has to do with farm equipment or heavy machinery. Your job involves pulling a strap as well as something breaks and snaps.”
In other words, nothing that’s prone to occur to you. (Apart from the auto accident. But even then, having a steering wheel rammed to your balls may seem like an extensive shot.)
“Modern boxer briefs basically solves the issue,” he says. “You don’t must wear this weird contraption that has these straps that wrap around your butt. You can use tight-fitting underwear, because it does everything a jockstrap did, which happens to be keep things high and tight. That’s all you need.”
While underwear has evolved, not a whole lot has evolved in jockstrap and cup technology, which first came into vogue throughout the late 1800s.
“A jockstrap can be a jockstrap, today because it was in the past,” says Kevin Flaherty, whose great-great-great-grandfather founded the first jockstrap manufacturers in america, the J.B. Flaherty Company, Inc., in 1898.
In the past 100-plus years, the type of material have changed. Flaherty’s company-now Martin Inc., which produces Flarico, Bub, and Activeman products-has changed from knitted waistbands and straps into much more comfortable woven products.
The waistbands will have a plush back, and there isn’t a three-inch-wide bit of rough elastic. But adding to that, plus some fashion colors, there hasn’t been plenty of dexjpky93 within the design.
Except, naturally, for items like the Diamond MMA. Their compression-jock-and-cup product is manufactured from polycarbonate, a durable thermoplastic material that’s used in bulletproof glass.
Which might be useful if your job requires people trying to kill you, or at a minimum severely damage your yam bag. But also for us non-MMA athletes, can we really need very much ball-protecting technology?
Sure, fluke accidents happen. But that doesn’t mean you must walk around wearing a helmet and elbow pads. That would 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 one of his kids. That happens at all times.”
“It does?” I ask this though I absolutely know he’s right.
I’m a parent or gaurdian of a 4-year-old boy, and I’ve been around the receiving end of a barbarous foot or elbow. I’m well aware of what it’s love to obtain a crushing ball blast from your kid not old enough yet to appreciate that scrotums have the identical general effectiveness against blunt force trauma as hard-boiled eggs.
Later that night, after i return 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 entire body with it this time!”
“Everything regarding this makes me uncomfortable,” she announces, such as this proclamation will somehow make my son stop hurtling into my nutsack with extreme prejudice.
My son and so i just laugh, and that he consistently deliver blow after merciless blow onto what needs to be my soft extremities.
“It’s okay,” I attempt to illustrate to her, after pretending for that umpteenth time that my son had caused me irreparable scrotal damage. “This is just what boys do.”
He then tries on his very own cup-the Diamond MMA everyone was kind enough to send out me two-and that i give his groin a pounding (although admittedly I pull my punches.)
My lovely wife eventually walks away. She can’t take it anymore. But my son and that i keep laughing, whilst keeping punching the other within the nuts, amazed at the loud CLUNK our knuckles make every time they interact with what must be testicles.
“This is the greatest night of living,” my son laughs, falling into the floor, clutching his ribs with laughter.
Testicular violence is certainly not to laugh at. But testicular violence in which nobody gets hurt as a result of modern technology designed specially for professional athletes? Well, that’s merely a reminder that we’re living in a remarkable age, unlike anything our senior high school gym teachers may have imagined.