From the bowels of “BOING”

So whilst working on my writing portfolio, I found some of the original “Boings” from high school, during my sports editor days on the Maroon & Gold.

This was by far my favorite sports column I ever wrote. Up until college, I think this may have been the greatest thing I ever wrote.

Originally published March 13, 2003, here you go:

 

BOING

I read it for the articles, I swear

In 1964, Sports Illustrated attained that coveted position which previously was achieved only by the gods.

In the Bermuda Triangle of the sports calendar known as February: the interval between football and baseball, where the NBA is down the long stretch and March Madness is still a month away, sports fans become tired. But in ’64, Sports Illustrated gave men (and possibly women) a glimmer of hope; a reason to look in the mailbox; essentially, a true incentive to be a sports fan in February.

And thus a magazine tradition was born. An issue with so much anticipation in the years following its birth, it quickly acquired the one-name status for a single issue that no other publication could rival.

The Swimsuit Edition.

And while it has obviously evolved with leaps and bounds from that rookie issue 39 years ago, it is now a seasoned veteran with no hopes of retiring.

1n 1976, we discovered twins, as Yvette and Yvonne Sylvander graced that now-classic edition. Soon after, we witnessed as Sports Illustrated put the pedal to the metal and gave us everything we could want in the 80’s: Christie Brinkley, Elle Macpherson, and the models that were ushering us into a new age of hotness – featuring Heidi Klum, Kathy Ireland, and the first African American woman to grace the cover: Tyra Banks.

Yet, we’re not perverts.

For those hardcore sports fans, big, hairy, muscular men have been on our TV screens, in our magazines, and ultimately, on our minds for eleven months out of the year. All we thought about from March Madness through the World Series and onto the Super Bowl was male sports. Sure, the Anna Kournikova highlights were a must whenever Sports Center aired, but not until recently did women’s sports make it big.

So a certain magazine dawned a special issue to show us what else was out there. At first, these were new faces to us, only to be seen in women’s magazines. Yet as time went on, these women became our friends, our lovers and lives. Sure, only in our heads, but it still gave us that flicker of hope, that Shallow Hal instinct, that perhaps we might very well attain such beauty. Then Sports Illustrated messed with our one-track minds even further, taking it even further, and making the 3-D issue, where the models seemed to be crawling towards us. Getting our “hopes” up.

Damn them.

Our fathers, our father’s fathers, and now us. It’s a tradition. From that one day when you came home before your parents, decided to get the mail, you were forever changed by what you saw.

That was the last February you ever walked home. For one glorious day every February, you were the fastest man alive, beating your dad to the mailbox.

Thank you, sports Illustrated.