Are cheerleaders soulful human beings with wants, hopes, and dreams like everyone else?
Or are they actually nasty, stuck-up succubi with perfect hair, nice tits and nicer asses who’ll go down faster than a kettlebell in a creek bed on any meat-headed dope wearing football gear?
It’s a mystery. My own experiences with them is limited, unless you count laying a bunch of ex-cheerleaders years after the fact, eager to show how well they could still do the splits, only this time on my bulging, bombastic beef baton. During high school and college, I really didn’t see their status of being cheerleaders alone as the pinnacle of sexual achievement like most guys did. I was more into trashy-looking chicks. The rumors flew around school, however, about drug-and-alcohol-fueled weekend orgies, gang bangs, and an event in which there was actual video footage of two popular pom-pom bearers in uniform munching on each other’s tacos in someone’s front yard during a graduation party. I was reminded of this a few years back when a couple of Carolina Panthers cheerleaders were arrested for allegedly getting Sapphic in a club’s bathroom stall. Hot stuff, but not exactly shocking. Why?
Maybe it had something to do with the apparent 70s practice of cloning the cast of Charlie’s Angels, augmenting their assets, putting them in outfits which contained less cotton than an aspirin bottle, and then sticking them in Texas to become the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. They were, and to an extent still are a measuring point of hotness in all cheerleading squads.
You also had wildly popular porno flicks such as Debbie Does Dallas further burning the image of cheerleaders being enthusiastic leg-spreaders and blowjob artisans into our minds. Getting one’s girlfriend to put on a cheerleader uniform before clumsily bouncing on top of her is still popular, and the porn industry keeps cranking out videos catering to that particular fetish.
Then, sometime around the 90s I think, things started to get really balls-out competitive, and the canonical image of a cheerleader shifted from slutty sexpot to actual athlete, though whiny feminists are staunchly against that particular branding. Google a 1972 law called “Title IX” to find out how mousy, jealous women’s-studies majors got their revenge against girls infinitely hotter and more athletic than them.
These days, I doubt cheerleaders have time to live up to the long-established image of being the official cock-warmers of high school and collegiate sports. It’s now SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS. Turn on ESPN or whatever late at night some time. You might bear witness to a cheerleading competition complete with backflips and acrobatics that would have kung-fu movie producers knocking each other over to get their signatures on contracts. It’s also gotten to be dangerous as shit. It used to be that a cheerleader’s biggest hazard was catching the clap or getting knocked up by the assistant football coach. Now they have to contend with threats such as concussions, hematomas, heatstroke, broken bones, and in some cases, paralysis. For more on that, and the aforementioned ass-backwards feminist logic about cheering not being a legitimate sport, I highly recommend watching the cheerleading episode of Penn and Teller’s BULLSHIT!
Even though we’re graced with such positive modern movies as Bring It On! and its five hundred direct-to-video sequels, I still like to remember the halcyon days of cheerleading when cheerleaders made the crowd horny and wild instead of making them cringe with death-defying flips and throws gone horribly wrong. When you could tell how cold or turned-on a cheerleader was by looking at her ultra-tight shirt and whether or not she was a natural blonde by taking a sideways glance at her barely crotch-length skirt. Exploitation filmmakers not only perpetuated these sexy images, they magnified them by a thousand percent, lit them on fire, and rolled them down a hill toward the nearest drive-in.
Here’s a small sampling for you to hunt down:
THE POM POM GIRLS
This one’s a bit weird starting out. It opens with a burning effigy of a football player dangling from a rope, then immediately cuts back and forth from a beach of bikini-clad cheerleaders practicing, then to player drills on a football field. I guess only the director can explain that particular style of storytelling. This one’s a pretty standard hormone-driven high-school hijinks flick, with little to no semblance of plot in favor of stringing random scenes together around a few friends. Fear not, however, for there are fast cars, fistfights, and catfights, clueless sheriffs chasing stolen fire trucks, pissing out of windows onto innocent jump-ropers, and of course, cute nekkid chicks getting laid in decked-out cargo vans. What else do you need in a movie that was best watched at a drive-in in the back of a 1973 Ford pickup with smuggled-in Pabst Blue Ribbon? You’re not going to find groundbreaking artistic premise in any movie with the word “cheerleader” in the title. Just enjoy the low-budget goofiness of it all.
If a movie were ever to make a case that cheerleaders were sluttier than a gang of cougar badge-bunnies at a policeman’s ball, this is it. Mucho T&A and sexual escapades abound in this fun little 1972 sex comedy centered around a rookie high-school cheerleader (played by the absolutely jailbait-looking Stephanie Fondue in her only film role) trying to lose her virginity with the help of her squad mates. Said squad mates are usually found getting laid in car washes, engaging in lesbian trysts with their coach on exercise bicycles, or screwing the entire opposing team in order to wear them out before the big game. Pay special attention to Stephanie’s initiation scene, which involves her having to shower in the boys’ locker room and almost getting gang-raped by the football team, all with hilarious music in the background! The girls range from mediocre to really cute in this one, and some of them moonlighted as porn stars when not pursuing the legitimate art of drive-in exploitation cinema. It’s always refreshing to see thespians branching out into other areas of artistic endeavor, even when those endeavors probably paid fifty bucks and a half-off coupon at J. C. Penney. The cheering in this one is pretty half-assed, but who gives a shit when there’s this much screwing going on?
REVENGE OF THE CHEERLEADERS
Titties! Bush! Organized dance numbers! David Hasselhoff! Aloha High is the school you always wanted to attend, but had to settle for one full of awkward preppies with secret gay desires and misunderstood psychopaths that wore all black ensembles in 100-degree weather. Most high-school movies feature cheerleaders as the upper crust of school society, but in this one they’re regarded as a bunch of skanks by the more Stepford-esque snobs, while everyone else in school sees them as pretty cool party chicks. This is another fun flick where the cheerleaders try to keep their school from being demolished by a stereotypically evil rich white guy. Notable in this one is drive-in queen Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith, looking pregnant as hell, as well as a young and stoned-out-of-his-mind David Hasselhoff playing a basketball player named “Boner.” The cheerleaders prove to be serious innovators of mischief in this movie, as they use weed instead of oregano in the school lunch spaghetti sauce, which culminates in an awesome food fight, and one cheerleader uses her panties to wake up Boner from a drug-induced stupor during the big game. Fantastic! This movie is available in the same box set as The Cheerleaders, and another called The Swinging Cheerleaders, which I didn’t review because it was a bit too seriously themed for this article.
CHEERLEADERS BEACH PARTY
Here’s a departure from the usual backdrop of high school, taking place at a college where the entire cast looks like they were held back ten years and forced to repeat senior year each time. But gosh-darnit, that doesn’t stop them from trying to cash in on the 70s’ cheerleading craze in this somewhat lame little flick penned by part-time classic porn auteur Chuck Vincent. You would think that a movie with the words “cheerleaders” and “beach” in the title would translate into some serious fun, but ol’ Chuck somehow makes it into a snoozefest, with terrible dialogue and a whole bunch of boring situations. There’s even a four-girl shower scene that turns out to be the most non-erotic clip of its kind ever. How in the world do you fuck up THAT scenario? The only seemingly cool scene in this movie is where three of the cheerleading squad tries to fuck the same guy in a tent, and even that’s a bit lame because of the shitty lines the actors had to read. What a fuckin’ letdown this flick was. I really expected more from this one just from looking at the movie poster, but as we all know, advertisers tend to lie like nuns under oath at a pedophilia trial. Not really recommended unless you REALLY dig movies about cheerleaders to an obsessive degree.
Fundamentalist small-town Christians everywhere must have been completely horrified to find that Satan not only wants to take your soul, he also plays favorites in high-school sports! Blasphemous! Veteran exploitation director Greydon Clark made this weird little piece of celluloid about a cheerleading squad that runs afoul of local Satanists during a road trip. These aren’t your usual Satards, however. They walk among the normal citizens of the community, but in the deep of the woods away from prying eyes, they’re a Satanic coven of witches looking for a fresh virgin to sacrifice to Ol’ Scratch himself!
Even the creepy old janitor is in on the devil worship! Eventually they’re captured and then laugh in the crusty old heathens’ faces when they want virgins. HA! Good luck finding one of those in 1976, jerks! One of the cheerleaders turns out to unwittingly have vast amounts of Satanic power dwelling in her, and what does she do with it? She helps her team win the big game. If you were to strip the titty scenes, it could be a made-for-TV type deal. It was rated PG, which is a shame, but it’s still an interesting watch. The girls are hot, and the premise is somewhat original. Give it a look if you can find it.
Bearing all of this in mind, give a cheerleader a pat on the back and a thumbs-up when you see one. Or alternately, spit in her face and kick her dog. Hell, do all of that in sequence and see if she gives you a BJ. You have nothing to lose but your freedom.