WARNING: The material contained in this article will prove offensive to anyone who doesn’t have a sense of humour or doesn’t understand why some females (namely...well, me) find rugby players, and their little shorts, so appealing.

OK I’ll admit it, I am probably the worst rugby fan ever, the kind that people love to hate. "Why?", you may be asking; well here it is... I’d much rather see Norm Maxwell get his kit off in a toffee pops advert (sorry but you don’t do it for me Carlos), than worry about a five metre scrum in the oppositions half (I doubt that’s the correct terminology!). You're probably groaning and looking for a small blunt object to bop me on the head with, but don’t hate me for being a sad female who happily trots off to a game and shows more concern with the length of the shorts on the players than the amount of tries being scored. Why? Because you would be wrong (well sorta), I enjoy my rugby as much as the next person, I know the difference between a ruck and a maul (truly!) and can scream abuse (I like to call it constructive criticism) at the ref like a good Kiwi rugbyhead...but when that field fills up with 30 sexy male bods, the hormones certainly start to flow for myself and any self respecting female.

OK by now if you haven’t already pushed the back button on your browser in disgust then I guess you must have at least a faint interest in what I have to say...

So now I will try to explain what it is that’s so appealing about rugby players (knowing me I’ll probably go off on some crazy tangent and miss the point entirely). I guess you could say it’s my Dads fault, I remember very well the first time I was woken up at three am by a bunch of lagered males sitting in the lounge watching the box (well more often that not hollering at the box) at full volume, while the All Blacks played some team in a foreign uniform. Just as I was opening my mouth to tell my Dad and his mates to shut the hell up (I was a foul mouthed child), someone scored a try and the floor boards were put through a form of sick torture as about ten 100kg men jumped up and down with excitement. Hmm, I thought about it for a while and decided I may as well give rugby a go and sat down to enjoy the second half.  Many days, nights and far to early mornings later I was completely hooked and was getting just as excited as my dad and his mates were at the prospect of watching a group of blokes kicking a ball around the paddock and causing each other grievous bodily harm. NPC, Ranfurly Shield, Bledisloe Cup, Tri-nations Cup, World Cup, and more recently the Super 12 (which I daily thank the good Lord for!!), you name it I watched it. I think I was the only kiddy in my standard 2 class who knew what a curtain raiser was.

But then I had to go and hit puberty and no longer were rugby players just rugby players but delectable pieces of man meat in their short rugby shorts, jerseys and spiffy knee high socks. OK I’ll admit it, my first rugby crush was Justin Marshall, what a spunk!!!! He had me glued to the screen and desperately flipping through every rugby magazine in creation for some quality perving action. However, throughout the years I have found myself drooling over any number of rugby players, funnily enough never straying to far from the Canterbury crowd (good old Mehrts did it for me but he’s married now isn’t he? And Mal Arnold is certainly a tasty morsel). But the ultimate in God like rugby players would have to be Norm Maxwell...Woah! Break me off a piece of that! The guy is a serious chick magnet, just ask any one of my Girlfriends, who go weak at the knees and look all flushed at the mere mention of his name. Ah yes Canterbury did a good thing when they bought him into their Super 12 and NPC teams, and thats not just because of his awesome rugby skills!! Oh by the way you may have realised I am a bit of a Canterbury Supporter!!

OK I did it, I found that tangent and hopped on the Bus, but if you get me talking about Norm Maxwell then these things happen. Besides I'm not good at structuring this kind of stuff, and have probably never written anything with a proper beginning, middle and end in my life.

A few Queries:
Surely I am not alone in my opinions about rugby players? There must be other females out there who enjoy the sight of men in rain and mud soaked rugby jerseys? Perhaps I am, but never mind, as long as New Zealand keeps churning out the delish rugby players (and New Zealand carries on playing quality footy) then I’ll keep watching!!

Bless them all indeed...and their little black shorts!