Men pretending to be women in order to gain sporting advantage is not a brand-new phenomenon. Perhaps the first of these cheats to gain a public profile was William Thomas, who changed his name to Lia (why do they always choose such crappy names?) when he decided it was easier to beat girls in the swimming-pool than fellows with testicles like his own. But one sporting story from England, and which features men posing as women, is of particular interest.

The recent final of the UK women’s pool championship was contested by Harriet Haynes and Lucy Smith. Fine, rack ’em up. The problem is that both players are men. I’m not going to write “biological men” because to do so is already to play the game the new cultural wreckers want you to play. “Men” already means “biological men.” Being a man is not your “allocated birth gender”, and the phrase “biological men” is either tautological or pleonastic, as you please. It’s like saying “winged birds”. The difference between men and women is not some silly ideological frippery, it’s not a “social construct”, it goes down to the chromosomic, cellular level. The Telegraph piece linked to above calls the women beaten by these two geezers on their way to the final “female-born”. That would be women, then. Are you confused, O Telegraph hacks? To quote Joe Pesci’s character, Nicky Santoro, in Scorsese’s movie Casino, maybe if I put your head through this window it will unconfuse you. The MSM are complicit in all of this.

Back in the pool-hall, although neither dude looks like a lady, both finalists have got tits. A lot of guys get “man boobs” if they don’t watch their diets, but I suspect these hooters are pharmaceutically enhanced. But is there a biological advantage, in the context of pool, to being a bloke? Not unless there is a bar fight and the cues are brought into play in a fashion for which they were not originally designed. There is an obvious advantage in physical sports (and pool is not really any more physically demanding than darts or chess) because of the obvious difference between men and women in terms of strength, skill, and power.

Any soccer fans who saw my team, Arsenal, demolish the mighty Real Madrid last week (which almost cost Real manager Carlo Ancelotti his job) will have seen Declan Rice’s second free-kick (1:20). Watch it. To hit a football that hard, with that placement, from that distance, and to beat the world’s best goalkeeper, is not something you are going to see a woman do any time soon. Pool is another matter.

I heard someone blathering about the biological advantage a man has playing pool against a woman. Really? This guy said longer fingers give a bridging advantage, which is nonsense. I’ve seen a bloke missing half his index finger bridge up using his stump. Muscular advantage was also mentioned. Sure, in some sports, but not pool. If a gal has just had her nose broken by a guy posing as a chick smashing a volleyball into her face, or been knocked senseless by a boxer who might well be a twat but does not possess one, I take your point. But pool? Seriously? There are the “crack the pack” merchants who break by slamming the cue-ball into the pack, causing the balls to carom around the table. You might get lucky and put something down to your advantage from the break, or you might leave your opponent with two or three clear shots if you don’t, and thus able to pull away from you right at the off. Pool is just angles, spin, stun, and leaving your opponent without a clear shot. It’s not as elegantly stylish a game as snooker, nor do you need the tactical, positional intelligence required to play billiards, but I don’t see why women should be any worse at pool than men. I suspect we rule the game because we spent more time hanging around in disreputable bars when we were kids than girls did. But that is not the point, no matter how much you chalk the tip of your cue.

The point is the origin of a situation in which a man can not only put a frock on, choose a silly name, pretend to be a woman and succeed in a sport they are not very good at in the company of their own sex, but he is seen, legally and actually, as a woman. (And you had better agree, because should you commit the new thought-crime of “misgendering” someone, your job could be forfeit). A lot of women who have been humiliated or injured or both in sporting events by chicks with dicks might be surprised to learn who is responsible for their plight. It’s not men, it’s women, and more specifically feminist women.

Western women are beginning to realize that their first-wave feminist predecessors were not terribly careful what they wished for. First-wave feminism is responsible for birthing (not a metaphor of which they would approve) something called standpoint epistemology, and this has enabled what we know today as “woke” ideology. Now, when we use the term “woke”, we are using what Jonathan Bowden called “intellectual shorthand.” “Left” and “right”, said Bowden, condense far more complicated relations than the simple words invoke, but we know what we mean when we use them. So too “woke.” But when you unpack it, woke has a guiding philosophy. Every ideology has a guiding philosophy, whether it likes it or not, and whether its adherents have read word one of white Western philosophy or not. White philosophy is way bigger than those whites who decry it because David Hume’s granddad owned slaves or Immanuel Kant said something hurty about blacks. The philosophy – I hesitate to dignify it with that title – behind woke is standpoint epistemology.

I wrote about standpoint epistemology here at Counter Currents last year, and the piece can be read as an adjunct to this. I’ll just quote briefly from that piece (although I have slightly revised the original):

Standpoint epistemology has had something of a journey, travelling from Marxism to militant feminism before its current incarnation. The phrase ‘standpoint epistemology’ raises forebodings just by its construction. Epistemology deals not with the truth per se but the conditions that must be met before something can be considered to be true. It has interpersonality woven into it. A standpoint is just that, a point at which one stands, regardless of where others might be standing. Truth without another party collapses into solipsism which is a dangerous position.

Do you know, incidentally, that the Italians have a specific word for cheating in football? Barare. Any Italian readers or speakers are welcome to prove me wrong. They are taught this as kids on the training-ground. Go down in the penalty area even though no one has touched you, and the ref might get it wrong and award your side a penalty (although that has been somewhat mitigated by the new VAR – video assistant referee – technology). Football fans in England used to call a German player called Jurgen Klinsmann “the U-Boat” (an unterwasser boot, or submarine) because whenever he got into the penalty area it was “dive, dive, dive.” One old football trainer of mine said to us before a game, “If one of theirs kicks you off the ball, and the ref doesn’t see it, get straight up. Ignore the c***. Then, when ref’s not looking, half an hour later, kick the c*** back.” Pardon my language, but that’s just the way it was. But the old journeyman trainer (who I impressed in my first game by scoring a cracker) was not teaching us to cheat, just to impose ourselves physically.

“Transgender men” who engage in women’s sports are cheats, simple as that. One of the things Trump is attempting to put into place is the banning of this absurd mockery of sport, and for that he should be applauded to the very echo. Cheating in sport is as low as a snake’s belly (unless it’s cards, in which case you are probably watching either a Western or The Sting). South African cricketer Hansie Cronje (who fixed matches for money), black sprinter Ben Johnson (who took drugs enabling him to outrun his competitors), and the 1919 Chicago White Sox baseball team (who threw World Series games because they were paid to do so by a professional gambling syndicate), were not sportsmen but cheats. When Cronje died in a plane crash in 2002, a lot of people in the cricketing world had but one thought composed of one word: Good.

A good friend of mine in Virginia has a granddaughter who is an incredible swimmer. I saw her swim when she was 14, and she ploughed through the water, embarrassing the other girls in the heats. College swim coaches were queuing up to get her into their school, and there was talk of Olympic prospects. She doesn’t swim anymore, except for fun. What’s the point? Why perfect this wonderful aquatic ability if some bloke in a bikini is going to beat you into second place every time? American swimmer Riley Gaines has been very vocal about this, and was singled out with approval by Trump for her defiance. This is the real tragedy of the farcical – and thoroughly epistemological – situation the modern world has been forced into by people clearly suffering from psychosis. All the “equality for women” stuff tends to fade away a bit once woke comes to town, even when some chick gets her eye-socket fractured in a judo bout against a bloke who has changed his name to Sarah, or some fat bastard with a cock destroys all the women in a female power-lifting competition. Woke is going to kill a woman one day in a sporting contest, and no one will care because, you know, everything for the cause, right? A dazed and concussed female volleyball player is just collateral damage. It disgusts me.

So, ladies. If you have just been demolished in a sporting contest by a “woman” who is actually packing meat and two vegetables between their legs, don’t come whining to us. You and your sisters started it.

https://counter-currents.com/2025/04/rack-em-up-feminism-and-hubris