Zombie Invasion Sportsman Contest

A Zombie Invasion is inevitable. Pop culture demands it. But what kind of athlete would have the best chance of surviving? I interview myself in an effort to find out the pros and cons of several major athlete types in an effort to determine what sport I will practice until Doomsday.

Boxers: Boxers are among the most in-shape athletes, I've heard. Footspeed and total body strength are superior, but there is no endurance level like Dead. Also, raising your meaty, buttery forearms to block a zombie attack on your face is just giving away a free meal. What, you don't butter your forearms? Get out of my gym.

Swimmers: Languid, aerobic beasts. However, even the best swimmers may not have the groundskillz necessary to evade and destroy. The best swimmers may be too lanky to maneuver in tight spaces well, and would constantly be doing weird stretches to impress us. Also, big hands and feet.

Running Backs: Explosive, agile, and elusive, running backs likely rank highest for their evasive capabilities. Zombie arm-clubs and shambling shoestring grabs would make Asante Samuelses out of the undead, without the annoying arrogance but with the unwillingness to learn how to wrap anyone up around the hips. Fucking Asante. Running backs lose serious points for their instinct for stiff-arms, which puts the gravy-basted forearm into the mouth of the creature that loves to put arms in its mouth.

Hockey Players: Incredible lower body strength and endurance. Matched short-burst capability with the ability to create tremendous weapon-swinging torque through the core allows for a balanced attack and evade combo. Pro Hockey players, while beloved, almost never went to high school and would probably start by punching a zombie in the mouth after telling their girlfriends to stop dancing with that guy. "C'mon Claire! Northern Exposure starts in an hour!"

Golfers and Tennis...ers: Any athletes from sports with dresscodes requiring collars are either in a privately owned bunker or (un)dead within 46 seconds of the invasion starting. "BUT I NEVER GOT TO KISS THE RED CLAY OF ROLAND GARROS!"

Basketball Players: If zombies could move in three dimensions, basketball players would have a leg up (OR OFF! BECAUSE OF THE BITING! GET IT?!) on other athletes. But zombies are slow, shambling creatures, and the success of Derrick Coleman ever makes me think that basketball players as a whole might not have much beyond their purported short-burst ability and penchant for handling the rock. Mmmm. Dwayne Johnson. Such buttery forearms.

Bowlers: If you insist on calling yourselves athletes, you can insist on being the first to feel yourselves torn apart by glassy-eyed PBA Tour fans who caught up to your slow-moving, corpulent, oversponsored selves. Try picking up that spare, brah.

Rowers: The useless athletic average of hockey players and swimmers. Guaranteed to make the survival party a little douchier- provided they collected themselves after watching the death of their golf and tennis friends. We simply must get lunch at Lutèce. Brains au poivre!

Biathletes: This was never a contest, I was just wasting time until crowning biathletes the uncontested winners. They have absolutely everything. Insane endurance in the harshest conditions and most severe terrain. Nerves honed to a quiet powerful focused thrum while they USE THE FUCKING RIFLE STRAPPED TO THEM. Targets the size of grapefruits (or toddler zombies' heads) destroyed in rapid succession from half a football field away with an elevated heartbeat. Zombies would not even get close to a biathlete. Oh, out of rifle rounds? That's cool, you have two spear-shaped secondary weapons at the end of your toned, margarined forearms. Ever see a zombie coast uphill at 15 mph? Yeah, me neither. AND I'VE SEEN ZOMBIE PORN. Biathletes have always been training to protect us from zombies, they merely practice in snow and at high altitude to be all that more devastating when deployed in other environments. The competitions they hold are just for fun. Afterwards, they all sleep in coffins and masturbate to the George A. Romero boxed set. Nothing but nukes can stop biathletes.

I'm buying skis and a gun and I expect to get my one phone call when they arrest me.