Sox prove good sports primping for 'Queer Eye'

June 04, 2005|Globe Staff

So there are a still a few things left you might not know about the Red Sox. Like the fact that Kevin Millar picks his nails. And Johnny Damon is no stranger to the paraffin wax hand treatment. And Jason Varitek has bunions.

And that the reigning World Champions -- five of them, at least -- are fabulously good sports, as they face the cuddles and coos of the Fab Five on ''Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."

Even in this era of the metrosexual, this is not the pro-sports stereotype. Much has already been made, sight-unseen, of the ''Queer Eye" season premiere, which airs Tuesday on Bravo and features the typical back and brow waxes, pedicures and innuendo.

On WEEI, sports-talk agitators John Dennis and Gerry Callahan have been working to drum up outrage about the cross-promotions -- the Fab Five are scheduled to throw out the first pitch tomorrow -- and goaded reliever Mike Timlin into joining in. (He said, on the air, that gays are ''not living correctly.")

We haven't heard much from the participating Sox: Millar, Damon, Varitek, Tim Wakefield, and Doug Mirabelli, who spent some time in March getting primped and pruned at their Spring Training ballpark. But if Tuesday's episode is any indication, their suggestion might be to lighten up. From their head-shaving days of 2003 to Damon's current see-my-skivvies ads for Puma, these particular Sox have seldom been afraid of poking fun at themselves. This ''Queer Eye" stuff is just a little more . . . explicit.

''Who said gay was bad?" Millar says at one point, swathed in a white bathrobe, sinking his feet into a tub of water laced with rose petals. ''I am now gay!"

In spirit, at least, for an hour or two. Filmed in Fort Myers, Fla., the episode takes pains to remind us that these players are straight. The point of the makeovers, we're told, is to please their wives, two of whom are pregnant, all of whom agree their husbands need less hair. And to raise money for a Florida Little League team whose ball field was destroyed by a hurricane.

Both worthy causes, obviously. But another advance is the way the show plays with old stereotypes of sports machismo. There's something deliciously modern about watching Mirabelli, hand extended delicately for a manicure, razzing Millar about his hair. And about the mix of fear and pride on Wakefield's face when Carson Kressley sits on his lap, pats him encouragingly on the shoulder, and says, ''You're so good; you're so comfortable!"

That has always been the best conceit of ''Queer Eye": the way it acknowledges its straight protagonists' unease, then watches them evolve. Most episodes end with their deep appreciation for the Fab Five's humanity and practical tips.

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