I vividly remember grim warnings from my high school graduation gym teachers, who lectured us on what exactly 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.
And this was when we were lucky. Worse case, we’d suffer testicular trauma. There’d be ruptures, fractures, contusions, torsions; there is no end towards the horrible stuff that could afflict our nuts in 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 considered regularly.
That is certainly, until a publicity rep for Diamond MMA compression jock and cup system-designed for just $90-sent me a complimentary set a couple of weeks ago.
In case your first thought was, “Hey, isn’t the same cup Dairy Queen uses for their Banana Splits?”, we are totally on the same page.
At the beginning, I left it on my own desk, like a sort of perverse tip jar. I even briefly used it as being a makeshift container for pens and Post-It notes.
I made a decision to strap it on for your Men’s Health Monday morning editorial meeting.
There’s something weirdly exhilarating about planning to work wearing the type of testicular protection usually reserved for MMA athletes.
Because once your balls are that ensconced, you already know, with out a shadow of your doubt, that this day won’t end together with you being rushed towards the emergency room with internal scrotal bleeding.
Of course, you could potentially point out that about most days-particularly if your work, like mine, involves long periods of typing over a computer, or having conversations with calm, entirely nonviolent those people who are unlikely to judo chop you within the nuts out of nowhere.
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 organization end of their shoes into my giggleberries.
Unsurprisingly, there were no takers.
Afterward, I purchased to talking to some my male coworkers about balls-hey, these topics just show up-and what, if anything, we’re doing to protect them. I found that not really a single one of them wears jockstraps anymore.
Not simply around the office. Even in the club. Or wherever they work out. They’re essentially free-balling it.
Jay Ferrari, an ordinary MH contributor that has a black belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu, says the final 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 jockstraps for sale necessary in our youth, but not so much in 2015?
When our secondary school gym coaches warned us from the testicular Armageddon that can be a consequence of letting our boys dangle unprotected, were they packed 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 when it comes to testicular trauma, at least among non-pro athletes, he insists it rarely happens.
From the approximately 2,500 patients he treats each year, only about a couple of those suffer from scrotal injury.
So how exactly does it happen? “Maybe a horse kicked them from the balls,” he says. “Or there was a vehicle accident where steering wheel went to their nuts. Sometimes it is related to farm equipment or heavy machinery. Your work involves pulling a strap and something breaks and snaps.”
In other words, nothing that’s more likely to eventually you. (Apart from the auto accident. But even so, developing a controls rammed into the balls looks like a long shot.)
“Modern boxer briefs virtually solves the issue,” he says. “You don’t have to wear this weird contraption containing these straps that wrap around your butt. Try on some tight-fitting underwear, as it does everything a jockstrap did, which happens to be keep things high and tight. That’s all you need.”
While underwear has changed, very little has changed in jockstrap and cup technology, which first came into vogue through the late 1800s.
“A jockstrap is a jockstrap, today since 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.
Previously 100-plus years, the types of materials have changed. Flaherty’s company-now Martin Inc., which produces Flarico, Bub, and Activeman products-has evolved from knitted waistbands and straps into much more comfortable woven products.
The waistbands now have a plush back, where there isn’t a three-inch-wide component of rough elastic. But adding to that, plus some fashion colors, there hasn’t been lots of dexjpky93 inside the design.
Except, of course, for items like the Diamond MMA. Their compression-jock-and-cup system is made of polycarbonate, a durable thermoplastic material that’s employed in bulletproof glass.
That may be useful in case your job requires people attempting to kill you, or otherwise severely damage your yam bag. However, for us non-MMA athletes, will we actually need very 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 coming from a parent,” Dr. Steixner says.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Like a dad getting kicked hard in the nuts by one of his kids. That takes place on a regular basis.”
“It does?” I ask this despite the fact that 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 any barbarous foot or elbow. I’m well aware of what it’s want to receive a crushing ball blast coming from a kid not of sufficient age yet to comprehend that scrotums have similar general potential to deal with 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 whole body involved with it this period!”
“Everything concerning this makes me uncomfortable,” she announces, similar to this proclamation will somehow make my son stop hurtling into my nutsack with extreme prejudice.
My son and that i just laugh, and he continues to deliver blow after merciless blow onto what needs to be my soft extremities.
“It’s okay,” I make an effort to convey to her, after pretending for the umpteenth time that my son had caused me irreparable scrotal damage. “This is what boys do.”
He then tries on his very own cup-the Diamond MMA people were kind enough to send me two-and i also give his groin a pounding (although admittedly I pull my punches.)
My spouse eventually walks away. She can’t carry it anymore. But my son and so i keep laughing, while keeping punching the other in the nuts, impressed by the loud CLUNK our knuckles make when they connect to what should be testicles.
“This is the greatest night of my entire life,” my son laughs, falling to the floor, clutching his ribs with laughter.
Testicular violence is nothing to laugh at. But testicular violence where nobody gets hurt due to modern technology designed specially for professional athletes? Well, that’s merely a reminder that we’re surviving in a remarkable age, unlike anything our high school graduation gym teachers may have imagined.