Polo is the Actual Worst

First of all, to state the obvious: only assholes play polo.

There aren’t exceptions to this. You’re not going to find some hardscrabble polo wizard who sleeps in the barn to save enough money to fund his dream while shoeing horses on the side. Nobody went to college on a scholarship after being discovered playing back alley polo in the Bronx by a grizzled old polo pro turned recruiter with a heart of gold.

It will be the very last sport on Earth to get the Netflix “Drive to Survive” treatment because it will only make you harbor more hate for everyone involved and anyone who wants to feel that way on purpose already has like four shows worth of Kardashians to enjoy.

They will find a way to make a charming docuseries about crypto billionaires who hunt humans for sport before they manage an inspiring tale about polo. Nicolas Cage and Rob Lowe have both starred in feature films you’ve never heard of about Ivy League rowing and each made the subject matter 1,000 times more accessible than mallet golfing horse soccer.

Fuck all of these people and the horses they (literally) rode in on, is what we’re saying.

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These shirts, though!

They’re still called polo shirts, which isn’t ideal, but the good news is that by simply removing the tiny picture of a horse-riding asshole traditionally positioned above the left nipple, we’re able to sell these bad boys at five for $39.99 instead of $90 bucks a piece.

Fun fact: The logo is typically positioned above the left, or inboard, nipple to accommodate the natural riding motion of horseback polo. This reduces chafing against the outboard nipple during mallet swinging. All of this would of course be reversed if riding southpaw, or goofy-hoof as they call it west of the Thames. [Editor’s Note: Citation fucking needed.]

Anyway, far from having a little horse man or some sort of fancy crest (which is somehow almost worse), the shirts in today’s deal have no logo at all. You get the flatteringly tapered short sleeves and the business casual lifehack of a collar, with none of the aristocratic baggage that decades of Ralph Lauren marketing have taught us to accept as normal.

Try to find a similar deal somewhere else and they’ll throw you out on the sidewalk like some sort of peasant.

Now let’s get you set up with some shirts. We can all wear them together the next time the McRib becomes available and complete the appropriation of this look once and for all.