The Species of Sports Bro

Where do they come from? How do they sustain themselves? Is that a Blues Traveler poster?

These are the questions bro-ologists seek to answer—the quandaries they parse as they pick through footage of bros in the wild and captivity. 

Perhaps the most interesting of man's tribes, bros have a culture all their own, complete with a self-governed moral code and social hierarchy. They are not an extant offshoot of the human race, but if one were to study them as such, you'd quickly see a great variety of sub-species within the bro community. 

Today we'll be looking at the different kinds of sports bro—a class of male that enjoys athletic events, Fireball whiskey and a "hands-on" sporting experience.

These are the different species of sports bro.

"Dude, I could've freaking [hit that shot, made that pass, outran that pro athlete...]."

If you've heard these words before, you were dealing with a Brolympian—an individual who becomes Bro Jackson after four shots of Rumplemintz and starts thinking they could "hang" with professional athletes on the field.

Habitat: The past, Never Neverland.

Conservation Status: Threatened.

Brolympians have short life spans, as they are often shot down before they can finish their second sentence.

Living in a state of euphoria, Victory Bro is a species of brosephyus with an intricate language based entirely on movement.

Victory Bros communicate through high fives, Superman chest rips and interpretive dance. Like the Bird of Paradise, they transform into a gyrating, Chaka Khan-ing whirlwind the moment victory is at hand. 

Habitat: Victory Lane, EastBay.com.

Conservation Status: Not Threatened.

You can find Victory Bros at any sporting event, although few specimens are as pure and wonderful as Baylor Bro.

The most volatile and unpredictable of brosephs, the Rambro is a war-like species bent on the ruining of athletic contests.

A malignant parasite, Rambros use mimicry and guile to Trojan Horse their way into packs of other, more innocuous bros. They keep their true nature revealed until they've reached the stadium, at which time anyone and everyone becomes their target. 

Old people? Stand the [bleep] up. Female fans of the other team? Get the [bleep] out of here. This is the Rambro code, their battle plan, and it will not cease until an authority figure places a knee in their back.

Habitat: The upper balcony, the drunk tank, in somebody's face.

Conservation Status: Threatened.

You don't always run into Rambro, but when you do, you've experienced enough forever. 

Sun's out, guns out. Sky's out, thighs out.

The Brolar Bear was born without the faculty for embarrassment. His disregard for cold weather is only matched by his inability to process shame. Any misgivings he might harbor about popping the top at Soldier Field are easily remedied by a salvo of strategically placed tall boys.

Shirtless Bros always travel in packs, their hands rarely dropping below shoulder height. Many adorn their naked upper body with runes or symbols denoting their native tribes. While generally harmless, sub freezing temperatures can render their nipples capable of carving a pot roast. 

Habitat: Lambeau Field, Solider Field, Skyrim.

Conservation Status: Plentiful.

Unlike their furry cousins in the Arctic Circle, the Brolar Bear is making a big comeback in modern sports.

You'll know a Zom-bro when you see one.

They're the bros who were up at 4 a.m. on game day, blasting Beastie Boys and drinking as if wolves with guns were at the doors.

They are not bad people, merely overzealous. They mean well, but by the time the game is over they've developed a Walking Dead gangster lean and close their eyes constantly for miniature coma-naps. Shhh...they're dreaming of pizza.

Habitat: Semiconsciousness, facedown in Section E26. 

Conservation Status: Moderate.

There will always be extremely intoxicated bros at sporting events, although security personnel is working harder than ever to keep pilfered alcohol out of the stadium. There are workarounds, however.

He came, he saw and he didn't conquer. He didn't even come close.

Much like his cousin, the Brolar Bear, the Field Stormer Bro is all about exhibition. He gauges the scene, tweets his intentions and makes a break for it when the coast is clear. 

Many fans storm the field, but few do it with the panache—the pageantry—of the Fielder Stormer Bro, who is generally derobed or garbed in a cape. Where other field rushers surrender peacefully, the Field Stormer Bro goes down in a glaze of arm tackles and separated shoulders. He is always arrested.

Habitat: Holding cell, in our hearts forever.

Conservation Status: Endangered.

The number of Field Stormer Bros actually making it on national television is falling, as networks have begun cutting away from the field in order to discourage the practice. 

He's large and not really in charge.

Brose Canseco is one of the largest species of bros known to man. They are complete wildcards (and sometimes Wildcats) who generally make it their life's mission to be in the middle of any and all rowdiness.

If someone suggests burning a couch after the National Championship game, matches practically fall out of Brose Canseco's sleeves. He's about the party as much as he's about the athletics, and he bows to no stadium usher or authority figure. Even if it means taking a stroll into a wall of pepper balls.

Habitat: Posted up at the bar, back of the cruiser.

Conservation Status: Endangered. 

You don't find too many dyed in the wool Brose Cansecos out there anymore, but the good news is they're next to impossible to kill.

"I call them my 'hater blockerz.'"

Habitat: Court side seats they'll never appreciate.

Conservation Status: Pest.

The National Bro Conservation Association allows fans to terminate any and all indoors sunglasses bros on sight with complete impunity. 

He did it. He made it to the big leagues.

The Brofessional is a rare breed of bro whose physical gifts and focus helped him break on through to level of professional athlete. Granted, most Brofessionals excel in sports featuring drink carts and club houses.

This isn't to say bros can't run, gun and Wang Chung. See: Rob Gronkowski, Sage Kostenburg, Patrick Kane, Johnny Manziel. 

Habitat: In the end zone, atop the winner's podium, the Red Bull Guesthouse.

Conservation Status: Threatened.

Bros continue to trickle into professional athletics, but tend to be the target of extra media scrutiny for not staying inside and playing X Box every Saturday night.

Warning: Video contains NSFW language.

Constantly running his mouth, the Bro Pesci is the verbal assassin of the brosephyus genus of male sports fans.

Armed with nothing but a piercing voice and list of moderately clever quips, this bro can bring down large prey with a few well-placed remarks.*

*The Bro Pesci does not make signs. 

Habitat: Directly behind the away team bench, around the stadium tunnel. 

Conservation Status: Abundant.

Featuring a unique, allegiance shifting hide, the Bromeleon can transform from a Redskins fan to a Seattle Seahawks fan over the course of several minutes.

Their closets are filled with an assortment of jerseys and flat brims from various—and many times conflicting—franchises. "Bro, I like more than one team" is their mating call. This is their leader.

Habitat: Lids, Chinese jersey seller websites. 

Conservation Status: More abundant than you'd like.