I vividly remember grim warnings from my secondary school gym teachers, who lectured us on exactly what would happen if we didn’t wear them.
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 would be mangled beyond repair.
And that 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 items that could occur to our nuts during a friendly game of pickleball.
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Having Said That I haven’t placed on a jockstrap since sentences like “I’m concered about tomorrow’s algebra test” and “I sincerely assume that dry-humping my girlfriend throughout a slow dance at prom looks like a meaningful relationship milestone” were issues i seriously considered regularly.
Which is, until a public relations rep for Diamond MMA compression jock and cup system-accessible for just $90-sent me a complimentary set a couple weeks ago.
When your first thought was, “Hey, isn’t that the same cup Dairy Queen ways to use their Banana Splits?”, then we are totally about the same page.
Initially, I left it on my desk, like a sort of perverse tip jar. I even briefly tried it as being a makeshift container for pens and Post-It notes.
I decided to strap it on to the Men’s Health Monday morning editorial meeting.
There’s something weirdly exhilarating about going to work wearing the type of testicular protection usually reserved for MMA athletes.
Because when your balls are that ensconced, you know, without a shadow of your doubt, that the day won’t end along being rushed to the e . r . with internal scrotal bleeding.
Obviously, you might say that about most days-particularly if your work, like mine, involves long periods of typing on a computer, or having conversations with calm, entirely nonviolent individuals who are unlikely to judo chop you within the nuts unexpectedly.
But there I used to be, all but daring my fellow editors-with simply a smug smile-to thrust their elbows into my gonads, or grind the company end with their shoes into my giggleberries.
Not surprisingly, there were 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 safeguard them. I found that not just a single one of those wears jockstraps anymore.
Not merely across the office. Even at the health club. Or wherever they workout. They’re essentially free-balling it.
Jay Ferrari, an ordinary MH contributor that 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 why not? Why were jockstraps necessary in our youth, although not a lot in 2015?
When our secondary school gym coaches warned us in the testicular Armageddon which could originate from letting our boys dangle unprotected, were they loaded with shit?
“Probably,” says Brian Steixner, M.D., Director from 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.
In the approximately 2,500 patients he treats every year, no more than 2 of those are susceptible to scrotal injury.
How can it happen? “Maybe a horse kicked them in the balls,” he says. “Or there seemed to be an automobile accident the location where the controls went inside their nuts. Often it is related to farm equipment or heavy machinery. Your work involves pulling a strap as well as something breaks and snaps.”
To put it differently, nothing that’s prone to happen to you. (Except for the auto accident. But even so, developing a steering wheel rammed in your balls may seem like a lengthy shot.)
“Modern boxer briefs basically solves the trouble,” he says. “You don’t must wear this weird contraption which includes these straps that wrap around your butt. You can put on tight-fitting underwear, mainly because it does everything a jockstrap did, that is keep things high and tight. That’s all you need.”
While underwear has evolved, very little has changed in jockstrap and cup technology, which first came into vogue throughout the late 1800s.
“A jockstrap is actually a jockstrap, today mainly because it was in the past,” 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 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 evolved from knitted waistbands and straps into more comfortable woven products.
The waistbands will have a plush back, and then there isn’t a three-inch-wide part of rough elastic. But in addition to that, and some fashion colors, there hasn’t been a great deal of dexjpky93 from the design.
Except, needless to say, for products like the Diamond MMA. Their compression-jock-and-cup system is made of polycarbonate, a durable thermoplastic material that’s employed in bulletproof glass.
Which might be useful when your job requires people seeking to kill you, or at least severely damage your yam bag. But for us non-MMA athletes, do we absolutely need that much ball-protecting technology?
Sure, fluke accidents happen. But that doesn’t mean you need to walk around wearing a helmet and elbow pads. That could 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 within the nuts by one among his kids. That takes place constantly.”
“It does?” I ask this though I absolutely know he’s right.
I’m a parent or gaurdian of any 4-year-old boy, and I’ve been in the receiving end of the barbarous foot or elbow. I’m knowledgeable of what it’s like to be given a crushing ball blast from a kid not of sufficient age yet to comprehend that scrotums have the identical general resistance to blunt force trauma as hard-boiled eggs.
Later that night, as 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 concerning 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 just laugh, and then he will continue to deliver blow after merciless blow onto what ought to be my soft extremities.
“It’s okay,” I try and illustrate to her, after pretending for your umpteenth time that my son had caused me irreparable scrotal damage. “This is just what boys do.”
He then tries on his own cup-the Diamond MMA everyone was kind enough to send out me two-and so i give his groin a pounding (although admittedly I pull my punches.)
My wife eventually walks away. She can’t take it anymore. But my son and i also keep laughing, and keep punching each other in the nuts, amazed at the loud CLUNK our knuckles make every time they connect to what must be testicles.
“This is the greatest evening of my life,” my son laughs, falling into the floor, clutching his ribs with laughter.
Testicular violence is nothing to laugh at. But testicular violence in which nobody gets hurt because of modern technology designed specifically for professional athletes? Well, that’s only a reminder that we’re surviving in a remarkable age, unlike anything our secondary school gym teachers could possibly have imagined.