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The fine art of McCourtship

June 8, 2011

What do you do when you’re four games under .500, half your bullpen’s on the disabled list, your owner is roughly as popular in LA as Don Denkinger is in St. Louis, and your attendance figures are dropping like a 12-6 curveball?

Easy—you give stuff away and go after the one demographic you hope hasn’t been reading the sports section: Teenage girls!


Dodger center fielder Matt Kemp swivels his head in meaningful slow motion as Vin Scully voice-overs “Look who’s comin’ up!” In the bleachers, two slender, long-haired white girls, old enough to have driven themselves to the stadium but young and innocent-looking enough that we trust they won’t be exchanging crotch shots with any ballplayers via Twitter after the game, cry out in delight and fan themselves for what one can only assume is the dual purpose of cooling the Kempfire of adolescent lust and drying their nails.

At the plate, Kemp grinds the ball of his manly foot into the dirt. A row of luxurious-haired blondes in Dodger garb set down their Twilight books long enough to bounce up and down in their seats, and a nearby brunette, possibly possessed by a demon or Eric Byrnes, clutches a Kemp bobblehead and points heavenward with her index fingers while her eyeballs roll back into her head.

Kemp hits a long ball. Chicks dig it! The inexplicably all-female bleacher section erupts into wholesome wildness—it’s Joe Francis meets the Jonas Brothers—though whether the collective girl-glee is the result of the Dodgers having scored a touchdown or Matt Kemp having broken up with Rihanna is unclear.

Kemp, who seems to have shaved in the middle of his home-run trot, circles the bases with a gleam in his eye. The bleacher babes know it’s meant for them, never mind that he’s also tattooed “Can you hear me now, Ned Colletti?” on his forehead. Meanwhile, the ball, which was rather clearly headed down the left-field line off the bat, magically changes course and lands amid the outstretched manicured hands of the still-screeching teens in the left-center-field bleachers. Catfight! Tears! OMG! Matty coolly tips his cap and recalculates his season totals: 17 homers, 50 RBIs, 4,396 conventionally attractive all-American teens charmed into quivering gelatinous bobbleheads.

Title: “It’s time for Dodger crushes.” Because boys crush baseballs, and girls crush on boys!


It’s the flip-side of Princess Prissypants—a reminder that girls and women, as a whole, still aren’t supposed to appreciate the game of baseball, or participate in its fan culture, at any level deeper than home runs and sex appeal. It makes me long for a regendering site that worked on YouTube videos.

The Dodgers aren’t all bad, though: With this TV spot from the same series as the one above, they prove that they are, in fact, capable of creating a sweet and non-sexist ad…..and with their win over the Phillies today, they helped the Cardinals claim the best record in baseball. OMG squeeeee!!!

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Cheap Seats permalink
    June 8, 2011 11:11 am

    I think the ad is also aimed obliquely at men. After all, if they don’t come to the ball park they can’t see (and meet, in their fantasy lives) women that look like this! No need to worry about what might be happening on the field…..

    • fearlessleader permalink*
      June 8, 2011 12:24 pm

      Great point. After all, this isn’t the heyday of WGN, when you could stay home and count on Harry Caray to show you all the well-endowed ladies in the stands.

  2. June 8, 2011 2:09 pm

    And no way could they ever in a million years possibly allude to the possibility that gay dudes might also find ballplayers sexy. It’s not only the misogyny that is a disgrace’ it’s also the heteronormativity.

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