MLB’s Sexiest Forearms

Forearms are the preeminent glamour muscle in this very sensual sport of ours, mainly because they are the only skin players are allowed to show under the game’s very oppressive dress code. But it’s whatever. I’m not even that mad about it. You’re not either. You know why? Because I went through the trouble of tracking down the guys with the most extensive, veiniest, most striated ham-hocks-attached-to-elbows ever to hold the handle of a bat for your viewing and reading pleasure. That’s right, baby. It’s time to bring something to this blog that’s been sorely missing — sex appeal. So sit in your room alone, lock the door, put on a robe, light some candles, maybe throw some Barry White on the speakers and prepare yourself to be aroused.

OF Mickey Mantle

Hall of Famer. Legend. American hero, according to your grandfather, who only remembers your name half the time. Honestly, Mantle’s got an unfair advantage being on this list. He played hungover and dehydrated so often that his forearm veins were probably popping harder than they would be had he not been such a drunken degenerate — you can thank Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four” for that lovely insight. But I guess you can’t argue with the stories of his forearm cannons generating mile-long tanks. Those that totally aren’t exaggerating in the slightest are to be believed entirely and without question.

OF Glenallen Hill

It goes without saying the Steroid Era (the late 80s and basically all of the 90s) produced the most impressive physiques ever to grace the field, and in all reality, this list should probably solely consist of these sentient, life-sized G.I. Joe action figures. But sorry to Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa — I’m just picking one: Glenallen Hill. He wasn’t one of the more well-known names on the infamous Mitchell Report, but goshdarnit, isn’t Glenallen just a great name? His power numbers were somewhat pedestrian considering the insane feats of his fellow roid-users, but when he got a hold of one, the results were explosive. Ask the rooftop of that one building across the street from Wrigley Field.

IF Dan Uggla

This retired hunk of meat was built like a hype-beast strength and conditioning coach you see on college football sidelines head-butting helmeted players. He put a lot of false hope in second basemen worldwide, being the only one in history to hit 30-plus dingers in five seasons straight. Additionally, he probably holds the dubious honor of being the only second basemen in history who was too yoked to scratch the middle of his back. The baseball turned invisible for him at the end of his tenure with the Atlanta Braves, but Florida Fish fans won’t soon forget his prolific power numbers and All-Star appearances in the late 2000s.

OF Matt Holiday

The now-retired Oklahoma-born country boy wrist-curled himself to a borderline HOF career, with enough postseason heroics and regular season stats to warrant at least some votes. I’d give him a soft maybe, only because he played a bunch at Coors Field where there allegedly isn’t any gravity. I mean, the home run numbers did go down after he left the Colorado Rockies, just saying. But who cares? He’s going into this list’s beef-cake Hall of Fame, and statistically speaking, this one’s more selective than the other.

IF Derek Dietrich

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See also: SP Chris Archer’s father. Dietrich looks like the kind of guy who’d shame you for eating carbs after 6 p.m. He seems like he looks in the mirror a lot between bicep curl sets at the gym. Dietrich was the MLB’s most villainous, hair-gelling, dinger-pimping alpha wolf for about a month back in 2019 for the Cincinnati Reds. Then he didn’t get a hit for like a year. No hate from me; it happens to the best of us. He left the Reds in 2020 and bounced a bit before finding himself a home in the New York Yankees’ minor league system. Barring a pretty fierce comeback, there’s a solid chance he’ll never see that amount of notoriety ever again. At least he’ll die a happy man knowing the Reds let him and fellow meatheads RHP Michael Lorenzen and OF Yasiel Puig wear those sleeveless throw-back jerseys.

And there you have it, folks. Now, for the love of all that is holy, go take a shower and give your screen a thorough wipe-down.

Cover photo courtesy of Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images