Sex Scenes Will Boost Sports Ratings

We’re at a crossroads, whether we know it or not. These are the days but before the NBA had begun to allow slam dunks or three-point shots. These are the days before steroids created a spike in home run hitting. Let’s look towards the future, and let’s be honest with ourselves. What will be the single most revolutionizing development in televised sports during 21st century?

Sex scenes, that’s what. The incorporation of sex acts into sports broadcasts. Sure, maybe it sounds a little over-the-top at first, but I’m not wrong about this. And no, I’m not just talking about cheerleaders showing a little more skin. I’m talking about football players and cheerleaders copulating on the sidelines. I’m talking about QBs getting frisky while taking snaps. Let’s be realistic here—sex needs to be worked in to the very fabric of our national pastimes. We’re talking about a revolution.

Honestly, is there anything that a little bit a sex can’t improve? Some of us might not have the fondest memories the Clinton sex scandals, but the resulting eruption sure gave Americans something to watch on TV! You watched it, so did I, and a lot of media folks made a killing because we did. Any anemic action adventure movie can, with the inclusion a few high-octane sex scenes, be redeemed. Sexual content can’t turn crap into gold, but it can turn crap into a passable media product. It’s pretty much a formula for success, and with good reason, given the centrality of sex in our lives. Whenever the entertainment and advertising industries tap into our collective libido, they tend to be rewarded. What’s the last sitcom, reality show, or TV drama that you watched that dared to broadcast sans “hot chick?”

But this brings us to our sports problem. What happens when a primetime sporting event turns out to be low-action? What happens after an early KO, or a basketball mismatch, or a limp-dicked duel between two soft-tossing groundball pitchers? We go to a commercial break and we try to get pumped about how many blades there are on the new Gillette razor, but it’s just not enough. TV execs have to face the reality that here is no contingency plan in place for times when March Madness is rather Calm and Orderly, or when all those race cars just go around in circles for hours without a single wipeout.

Sex, as usual, is the answer. Yes—goalpost-humping, penalty-box-punishing, receiving fellatio-whilst-hanging-from-the-rim SEX with backboard-shattering-orgasms!

Just imagine the possibilities.

Our rookie starter coasts early on, pitching three innings of no-hit ball before running into trouble in the fourth, loading up the bases on a couple of singles and a walk. When his first pitch to the next batter bounces across the plate, our veteran catcher approaches the mound to soothe the rattled rook.

The stadium lights dim. Boys II Men plays over the sound system at a low volume. A JumboTron close-up allows the fans to see our catcher expertly smoothing a crease in the rook’s jersey crease with a mitted hand. The telescope microphones broadcast through the sound system as well, and they make the whispers audible to all, the ragged breathing as the mitt moves lower, the sharp inhalation when it mitt meets cup. When the catcher finally begins to kiss his pitcher’s neck, the rookie’s knees begin to buckle; he grabs the catcher’s elbow guards and holds on for all he’s worth. The play-by-play announcer says it best: “It’s going to be a wild ride, folks!”

Commercial break? Who’s switching over to the Food Network and see if there are any good recipes on? Well, not me.

Unless, of course, I’m homophobic. But hey, Americans have been increasing accepting of gay content in the entertainment media over the last couple decades, and there’s nobody who can’t appreciate a little man-on-man MLB action on some level if they really open themselves up to it. But maybe more importantly-- who’s to say the catcher can’t be a woman? Who’s to say the catcher’s chest protector won’t be barely-concealing a honking pair of perky silicon-enhanced breasts? Who’s to say the shin guards won’t be fishnets? Who’s to say that that hunk of chaw in her cheek isn’t a secret chocolate syrup capsule that she’ll later burst when she gets into a bit of a dust-kicking “squabble” with the tawny little sprite who’s squatting behind home plate the in the skimpy umpire’s uniform? I mean, women athletes have been gradually winning societal acceptance for years, and eventually they’ll be playing side-by-side with men; the male monopoly on professional sports will eventually be broken. There just hasn’t been much of a market for women’s sports yet, but injecting a heaping load of sex into the picture is sure to change that. No, I don’t feel good about women having to exploit their sexuality in order to make it in the pros, but my not feeling good about it isn’t going to stop it from happening if there’s a buck to be made by the powers-that-be.

And god, is there ever!

Why reserve all the sexual content for commercials and the half-time shows? With little effort, we take sports and turn them into dependable primetime products. Featuring sex, violence and product advertisements spliced in between, televised sports can become our one-stop source for everything that appeals to modern American audiences— a Mecca of entertainment. Think about how popular ESPN already is, sans sex. All it will take is a little push, and we’ll be at the dawn of whole new world, damn it.

Which is not to say everyone will be ready for it. Expect there to be neigh Sayers-- mostly purists, prudes, and others, which I’ve divided up into four main categories, listed below.

1. Athletic Priests and Nuns

2. Ambitious Parents of Ugly Children

3. Surprisingly Small-Penised Basketball Players

4. NFL Quarterbacks With Erectile Dysfunction

There’ll be quite a few kinks to work out for Little Leaguers and High School athletics, but heck, it’s not like we can really shelter these kids from sex in the media anyway. They can play by the old fashioned rules until they hit age 18, sure. But after that, they’d better plan on putting out or sitting out. Opposing this will be like trying to swim up Niagara Falls, man. It’s coming.

There’s no point in trying to avoid it. Television executives will start pushing soon enough. League commissioners are bound to start thinking outside of the box. Sports Illustrated will to ditch their swimsuit edition and start making the athletes pose for photo shoots wearing nothing but body paint. This is for all those people out there who wish that those hockey fights would end the way that everybody really wants them to. This is for all those people who think that the US Olympic bobsled team, packed into that little bobsled together, would be a whole lot more interesting if they were all naked and making out. Maybe, say, covered in massage oil? Warming oil, since it’s probably pretty cold around all that ice? Hey, this is the wave of the future!

Maybe you’re not convinced. Maybe you’re worried about television coverage that puts those yet-to-be-discovered nether regions of David Ortiz squarely in your living room. Well, don’t be. You’ll get used to it.

And in time, you’ll demand more.