When I played youth baseball in the early 1990s, there was a guy on my ball club who liked to intimidate the players on his side of the field nearly as much as strike fear in the hearts of opposing pitchers.
Even among teen-aged jocks, who project the alpha tendencies of great apes, some stand out for their need to put their machismo on display. This guy was our King Kong. Seemingly every time one of his own teammates struck out, popped out or hit a weak tapper to the pitcher, he'd bellow, "Lift your skirt, Alice!"
None of the guys wanted to be feminized. There were parents and siblings, and occasionally girlfriends or would-be girlfriends, in the stands. But you know who hated it most? The mothers of the other players.