But beware! Most teams discourage fraternizing between employees (see your team’s “Don’t Shit Where You Eat” educational pamphlet, located in the lobby of your practice facility). Technically, you and your team’s cheerleaders are both employed by the team, which makes dating a risky endeavor. This might seem odd, since you train in separate areas. And you never actually work together. Nevertheless, cheerleaders are off-limits. Sure, it’s tempting to offer them a bump of coke to let them suck you raw. But you should refrain. You don’t want to break up with someone who also has an ID pass to the locker room.
If you must flirt with cheerleaders, be selective. Most cheerleading squads have a similar makeup. There’s the head cheerleader. She’s the one shrieking directions to all the other girls and looks ten years too old to be a cheerleader. Avoid this woman. You don’t want to know how she got to the top of the cheerleading “pyramid,” so to speak. Lots of passive-aggressive behavior involved.
Try to aim for the freshest faces on the squad. They’re the ones who exhibit genuine enthusiasm and have yet to realize that being a professional cheerleader does not make one a celebrity. Go ahead and give them a quick smile from the bench. If they smile back, you may be in for a solid season and a half of high-quality eye-banging, give or take (the average cheerleader squad turnover rate is four months). This in itself can be quite fun. You can even involve them in your showboating mime routines. Chad Johnson once faked proposing to Cincinnati Ben-Gal (yes, that’s the name of the Bengals cheerleaders) Daphne in a 2005 game against the Colts. You know he totally hit that later on.
You may also find yourself flirting with a lesbian cheerleader. To this, I would again caution you. In February 2006, witnesses said two members of the Carolina Panthers cheerleading squad were having smoking hot girl sex in a Tampa nightclub bathroom. Sounds arousing, right? I suggest not exploring the story any further. The picture in your mind is so much hotter than what the Smoking Gun dug up.
How to make love like a pro.
Now that you’re a pro, you’ll find that expectations in the bedroom are as high as the ones you encounter on the field. Like fans, women will enter into congress with you expecting to be positively dazzled. They’ll have plenty of preconceived notions of what bedroom relations with you will be like: a stunning display of sexual acrobatics that leaves no position or orifice unexplored, with trumpets blaring and Chinese firecrackers bursting in the background, and maybe Phil Rizzuto appearing in a cameo. That’s a big fantasy to live up to, given the general difficulty of simply maintaining an erection. So I suggest getting your female counterpart drunk. I mean, totally fucking blotto. If she can’t remember anything, then she can’t remember that banging you was about as special as having Ramen noodles for dinner.
But let’s say you’re going out with a girl who isn’t all that into drinking. First off: what a tightass. Second, you need a plan to ensure that you’re performing some serious penile sorcery when the clock strikes mating time. The key is variety. I’ve gathered positions and techniques inspired by some of the biggest names in sports to get your ladyfriend screaming like a Tom Jones audience member. And now, I present them to you in this handy and somewhat titillating study guide. As Abraham Simpson said, think of me when you’re having the best sex of your life.
THE YAO MING. First, place an ironing board on a chair or a sofa. Then, using heavy twine, lash the structure together to make a crude scaffold. Place your partner atop the structure and have at it, doling out gracious compliments as you go.
THE BILL PARCELLS. Lift gunt. Insert yourself. Release gunt. Repeat as necessary.
THE KOBE BRYANT. Bend partner over couch or credenza. Finish. Flee Colorado.
THE BRIAN BOSWORTH. Sit your woman down on the bed. Tell her she’s in for the ride of her life. Dim the lights. Turn up The Best of Otis Redding. Retire to the bathroom and return in your finest silk robe. Pop open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Fall asleep.
THE MARK FIDRYCH. Have mind-blowing sex the first time out and terrible sex every time thereafter.
THE DAN MARINO. Take your partner to dinner at the finest Japanese restaurant in town. Ask for the omakase dinner. Shock your ladyfriend by being conversant in Japanese with waitstaff. Take her to a four-star Broadway show. Establish an incredible rapport. Talk about your dreams. Share an embarrassing story or two. Make her laugh a surprising amount. Take her home. Tell her you had a really great evening. Lean in for a kiss. Get the door slammed in your face. Repeat for seventeen more dates.
THE ANDRE AGASSI. Make love to your woman on a bed, on the carpet, on the bathroom tile, and on a beach. Declare yourself a master of all fucking surfaces.
THE KEN GRIFFEY JR. Bring your woman to the very precipice of an earth-shattering, lip-quivering orgasm. Pull up with a cramp. Blame the hotel room massage staff. Try again at the Waldorf-Astoria with the exact same results.
THE ALEX RODRIGUEZ. Ask her if she orgasmed. Continue wondering what you did wrong.