Why Don’t They Make Them ALL Swimsuit Issues?
ON THE NEWS STAND–You know, there isn’t a magazine on the stands than can go toe-to-toe with the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated. The annual issue of America’s top sports magazine takes a break from sweaty jocks in dirty fields in favour of glistening women on sandy beaches. While the bi-weekly in-depth stories about Wayne Gretzky’s hair stylist or Wade Boggs’ nose-whistling are fascinating, and exclusive interviews with Pete Rose, Cordell Stewart, and Anthony Peeler are intriguing and insightful, really, it’s the swimsuit issue filled with fascinating supermodels that gets me out of my Laz-e-Boy and into the magazine shop.
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I know the Swimsuit Edition comes out in January, but I start counting the days in early February. I just can’t wait! I want to know what exotic location this year’s shoot will be from, and I lose sleep wondering who will adorn the front cover. With so much anticipation and excitement surrounding these bikini-clad babes, you wonder why they don’t make every issue a swimsuit issue!
Well, why not? The popularity of Sports Illustrated’s annual Swimsuit Edition is
unprecedented. Sales of the shapely sex-symbol-laden issue must embarrass the ones that cover the Super Bowl, World Series, Final Four, or Stanley Cup.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love sports. The ass-groove in my recliner is the result of years of Sundays watching Favre, Elway, and Montana toss the pigskin around like John Madden does chicken wings. And I’ve spent more money on sportswear than Dan Marino ever spent on Isotoner gloves. But, I’d trade in my Eric Lindros rookie card–or possibly something of value–for a year’s subscription to the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Magazine.
Sure, Allen Iverson is a great athlete, but given a choice between reading how Allen
braids his hair or memorizing the delicious curves of supermodel Heidi Klum, I’m going with the hottie…which would be Heidi.
I don’t need to see any more pictures of Michael Jordan sweating Gatorade, or close-ups of Randy Johnson’s moon-surface cheeks. I’d be perfectly happy admiring the strategically-placed sand grains on the backside of Ms. Tyra Banks.
No offense Mr. Canseco; I’m sure your exclusive interview detailing the rampant use of steroids in the major leagues is poignant, but why would I want to read about your unnatural biceps, when I could be learning about Laetitia’s leisurely afternoons on the beaches of San Trope?
Yes, if each issue of Sports Illustrated was a swimsuit issue, I’d sign up for a subscription in a New York minute, and pour over its pages longer than it would take me to run the Boston Marathon or hotel security to tackle Eddie Belfour.
I know that swimsuit modeling isn’t “technically” a sport, but that never stopped Cindy Crawford from getting up at 5:00am to do a shoot on the shores of Montego Bay. Do you think that Gary Payton would be willing to rise at the crack of dawn to have Los Angeles photographers take snapshots of him in a leopard-skin sport-thong? I’m certain Gary would sooner trash-talk his mother than be seen in sexy swimwear.
Let’s face it. Every healthy male in North America would rather stare at the sun-bronzed backside of Claudia Schiffer than the battered and bruised body of Seattle Seahawk defensive back Chad Brown. And I can guarantee you that Elle Macpherson has sold more SI issues than Albert Belle, Albert Pujols, and Marv Albert put together. And you shouldn’t need to guess which of those is the most photogenic.
I don’t want to get my hopes up. But if SI comes out with a bi-weekly swimsuit issue, you can be sure that I’ll have my hands on it faster than Latrell Sprewell’s on a coach’s neck.
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