I know nothing about rugby. I don’t care to learn about rugby. I have never had the urge to pick up a ball and score a goal or a touchdown or a hole-in-one or whatever the hell it’s called.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy watching rugby. The reason is simple: Rugby players are hot and occasionally their junk slips out of their shorts.
The pure machismo of European rugby players and the occasional wardrobe malfunction titillates me in the same way that those racy international films Showcase ran in the mid-1990s used to: You don’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s a good alternative to scrambled porn.
For the tenth year in a row, the Dieux du Stade calendar has given us mostly nude photographs of rugby players for every month of the year (hurray!).
The pics are all unabashedly sexual but in an understated sort of way, focusing more on masculinity than nudity as the spice of eroticism.
The calendar has even spawned a few “Making of Dieux du Stade” DVDs for those who want more of the Showcase Revue experience.
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