The woman's team is like being a dude growing up with a hot sister. She's hot, lots of dudes are hot for her. She's popular. It's not that you dislike her, but there is a very real phenomenon that the light isn't shined on your accomplishments as brightly as it should be - or, alternatively, that your accomplishments don't seem quite as impressive when stood next to Ms. Beautiful. At Christmas, she sachets into the living room, interrupting your story about how you aced your calculus AP exam and broke school high jump record in the same day, and the focus shifts to her as your retelling of that time you noodled a thirty pound catfish trails off.
I don't hate my sister. I don't even resent her. I do sometimes wish she would move to Fiji and go off grid for a couple years.
Ultimately, however, I recognize fully that our joint appearances together have not caused me to get my d--k repeatedly stuck in the blender.