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Pompoms at football games: why feminine is not the new masculine
09/27/06
by Clay

Why do Southern men feel comfortable cheering with glorified pompons at SEC football games? Seriously. Especially considering most Southern men race in the opposite direction when it comes to anything remotely feminine. For example, your average Southern man would rather wrestle a syphilitic cougar than hug another man, yet come Saturday, toss us a multi-colored pompon and we'll shake it in time to music. This makes zero sense.

A sampling of pompoms.

According to diligent research consisting of telephone calls to friends who root for teams or graduated from other conferences, men from the Big Ten, Big 12 and Pac-10 don't cheer with pompons in the stands. Yep, not even the Pac-10 guys who wear turtlenecks and attend poetry slams for fun shake pompons in the crowd. Only men from the SEC -- land of the stoic upper lip, mandatory gun ownership, late night drunken trips to Krystal and the wearing of camouflage gear at all times -- shake the equivalent of colorful ribbons at football games.

Notice the discarded pompoms. OK, this photo isn't relevant, but I assume no one wants me to take it down.

Right now, several of you are in the process of drafting me an e-mail that will begin something like this, "Clay, you're an idiot. They aren't pompons, they are shakers." Please, before you send me this e-mail, pause and reread your sentence. Look at the argument you're about to make. Can you really distinguish between shakers and pompons? By the same strained logic, if Barbie were called an action figure, this could make your Malibu Barbie Beach House the equivalent of Castle Grayskull. Nope, I don't play that game.

A shaker, or a pompom?

Let's compare pompons and shakers. Pompons have multi-colored threads and are used to cheer; shakers have multi-colored threads and are used to cheer. Both make a readily discernible shaking sound when moved. The only real distinction between the two is that shakers have a longer handle to grip. This is not an argument you want to make. For all intents and purposes, pompons and shakers are the same.

Even her hat has shakers on it.

Right now, men all over the South are absolutely blown away. I know, trust me, I've been there too. Until three weeks ago, I thought nothing of cheering with pompons. Absolutely nothing. It seemed perfectly normal. Then my friend Kelly, a University of Michigan grad, called from an Alabama house party where he was watching the Crimson Tide play and said, "What's the deal with Southern guys cheering during football games with pompons?" The question just floored me. I had no answer. For about a minute, I kept opening my mouth trying to think of a retort that would save my Southern brethren from ridicule. But I couldn't think of any excuse or justification at all. That's because there isn't one. Deadly Hippos Canon No. 643: Being a man and cheering with pompons is shameful. Period.

Things are about to get worse. Southern men ridicule Southern male cheerleaders to no end. Pick any section of any SEC football stadium on a Saturday and I guarantee you a male cheerleader is getting made fun of by someone. Yet we do this while standing in the crowd shaking pompons in time to band music. This is despite the fact that I've never seen a Southern male cheerleader ever hold a pompon. In fact, Southern male cheerleaders are generally looking up hot women's skirts while men with pompons are making fun of them from the crowd. This is the rough equivalent of ridiculing Brad Pitt while he's making out with Angelina Jolie and you are in the process of rubbing lotion into Star Jones' stretch marks. It makes no sense.

Right now, you're probably feeling like you want to blame someone. That's OK; it's normal. You're probably wondering:

• How your dad could have inaugurated you into pompon cheering as if there were nothing wrong with it at all.
• How you've never thought it was odd that some guy behind you is gently caressing your head with his pompon while he shakes it in time to your school's fight song.
• Why you've never questioned how a grown man would squeal and tussle with a sorority girl over a free pompon being distributed into a crowded stadium.

Trust me, we're all experiencing the same emotions. For me, my pompon epiphany was every bit as jarring as back in the first grade when Roy Fokker died in Robotech. Up until that time, Roy Fokker was the leader of the Skull Squadron and could do no wrong. I didn't think cartoon characters could ever die. Fokker was gallant, dashing, had an interracial relationship with a hottie named Claudia Grant and he blew up alien spaceships. Then one day, he got shot and died. I cried and I cried. But then, with acceptance, I became a stronger man. So too with the demise of my own pompon. I treated my pompon like Old Yeller was treated. No one else could put it down. I owed the pompon that much.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with looking (at the pompoms).

Here's what I want you to do. I want you to find your favorite pompon and I want you to carry it outside where the two of you can be alone. I want you to caress its multi-colored strings one last time. Give it a nice thread straightening for all the rhythmic shakes the two of you have shared. Then I want you to lift it above your head and give it a nice one-two shake. Pretend your school's fight song is playing. Shed a tear if you must. Shake until your triceps begin to burn (if necessary). Then, I want you to gently lower the pompon to the ground and take out a bunch of matches. Then, light one and watch that pompon burn. As the multi-colored threads turn to smoke, repeat after me: "Pompon? What pompon?" It's only by way of denial that we can reclaim what we've already lost. Then go shoot something.