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Sports fans everywhere know Gary Glitter’s bumbling guitar riff from “Rock and Roll Part 2,” culminating in a “Hey Go [insert team name] Go.” And when 2 Unlimited asks, “y’all ready for this?” in their hip-hop/jazzercise classic “Get Ready for This,” sports stadiums erupt in affirmation.  

Maybe you heard those tracks for the first time sitting courtside, at a Belgian techno party, or via an electrifying mashup of five-second snippets during TV commercials, which did numbers in an era of actual album sales. Even with those signposts of yore marking the path, it feels a little shocking to realize Jock Jams Vol. 1—released in July 1995—has turned 30, flirty, and certifiably vintage. 

The compilation arose at a particular point in American media, born from a collaboration between ESPN and independent hip-hop record label Tommy Boy Records. While the songs now seem ubiquitously tied to the institution of American sports, this was a unique and novel effort in the ’90s. 

Hip-hop groups like Naughty by Nature and K7 were still a part of the East Coast underground. Italo house legends Black Box crossed the European rave scene with American hip-hop to make “Strike It Up” (a work of timeless perfection). Additionally, including innuendos like those found in K7’s “Come Baby Come” was a risky move for a growing sports media empire like ESPN, who was still trying to convince the general public that the 24-hour news cycle could be applied to sports, too.

In ESPN’s oral history of the birth of Jock Jams, 69 Boyz producer Jay “Ski” McGowan offered the network a way to deal with any fallout from the raunchier tracks on the album. “Hey, if anyone from ESPN asks about 69 Boyz, just say the guys were all born in 1969, and "Tootsee Roll" is a candy and a fun dance and just leave it at that,” McGowan said. 

Thirty years later, the sports media industry has collapsed and regrown into an entirely new regime. There’s less risk taking, less regionalism, and less cool. It’s hard to imagine ESPN taking a break from their regularly scheduled programming of Former Player Everybody Hates Yelling at a Guy Who Doesn’t Seem To Watch Sports and a Woman Trying to Get Them Both to Move On. Imagining mash-ups of independent dance and hip-hop artists to make workout music for suburban children is decidedly off the table.

The experience of doing jumping jacks to “Pump Up the Jam” by Technotronic in gym class was either a teamwork hype machine, inspiring us to get in a few extra reps, or at the very least a collective groan. It’s not easily replaced by the workout playlist Spotify’s algorithm is trying to sell—come on, Ed Sheeran is not hyphy!

Being a sports fan now is less about tragically attaching your feelings to your local team's Herculean efforts on the court or field, and more about NBA offseason grades. The post-modern fan discusses Damian Lillard’s $42 million contract with the Trail Blazers as a business decision and asks how Jeremy Grant’s player-option will impact the Blazers’ salary cap. 

We aren’t imagining ourselves as the players executing physical feats; we now identify more with the nerds managing the team. 

While the track list on Jock Jams flows between wedding reception bangers, goofy skits, and dance routine staples, perhaps the only song on the compilation that has evolved along with American culture is the Village People’s “YMCA.” 

Originally written as an obvious double entendre ode to the beauty of homoeroticism in athletics, the lyrics of “YMCA” were seen by many to depict working-class, gay men receiving safety net services at a community-based sports complex.

“YMCA” has since become the favorite rally song of President Donald Trump, drawing complaints from the gay community. In 2024, Victor Willis—co-author of the song and the Village People member who dressed like a police officer—revamped his longtime assertion that the song wasn’t written to be a gay anthem. For decades, Willis had acknowledged the dual meaning of the lyrics, but in December, Willis alleged he would sue “each and every news organization” that called YMCA a gay anthem. He added that he didn’t mind “that gays think of the song as their anthem.”

Approximately a month later Willis performed the song at several inauguration events, receiving rebuke from the group’s former members. Willis’ willingness to sell out his gay fans to encourage the success of a song, fully spreads the ironic splendor of Trump pumping his tiny fists to “YMCA.” 

Torn from notions of homoerotic athleticism, the song’s lyrics can only describe services that most American YMCAs no longer provide. It holds no meaning other than as a payday for its surviving lyricist. The man behind its music, Jacques Morali, died in 1991 of AIDS-related illness.

Looking back on Jock Jams Vol. 1, we wonder what mix of genres could make the youth of today seize upon dusty barbells for renewed and vigorous reps. Facing crumbling infrastructure and cuts to bills written to create blue collar jobs and a new, greener world—thanks to the nerds in charge—what mash-up could inspire feats of strength on the court or in society? In a world run by nerds, we need jocks and we need jams.