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SI's
Swimsuit Issue After
Reading The Whole Magazine (stop snickering), George By George Stahl My assignment this week: Read Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit issue. Sure, snicker all you want, but I mean it. I had to read SI’s Swimsuit issue. And I’m not talking about the “Heidi / Swimsuit By Zimmermann ($125) ...” either. I’m talking about those four or five mostly full pages of text that no one reads and that adolescents and adolescent-minded men pass quicker than a 70-year-old going 30 mph on the highway. So why did I get picked for this nasty job? Well, my wife is out of town this week and I ... Now see, there you go snickering again. That ain’t right. Honey, I hope you’re having a great time in Minnesota - I’m sure there’s lot to do in Minneapolis in February. What I was going to say is that with my wife out of town, I have more free time to read and review the stories. And my impression of those stories? You ain’t missing much. After an initial smack of excitement and interest, the stories became tiresome, chauvinistic and dull. Not unlike the swimsuit magazine itself. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy looking at beautiful women as much as the next guy, but perfectly sculptured women in skimpy bathing suits (or in no suits as is the case in some pictures this year) have as much to do with sports as the Clintons’ marriage has to do with love. Besides I look at a beautiful woman every day. Honey, so how's the weather in Minny-sota? Now, I’m not one those Moral Majority fellas who feel the Swimsuit issue should be abolished because it is akin to prostitution - although it certainly could entertain Falcon Eugene Robinson for less than $40 an hour. Rather, I simply accept the annual issue for what it is - a huge moneymaking bandwagon for Sports Illustrated and its parent company, Time-Warner.
Money - now that has much to do with sports. So, in a sense, you could say that the Swimsuit issue has nothing to do with sports but yet everything to do with sports. Didn’t Lombardi say that once? But what I always find incredulous are the responses that are printed in SI weeks after the issue. Letters to the editor like “I was shocked to find this in Little Johnny’s mailbox. Cancel our subscription immediately, you vile exploiters of flesh.” What? Did these people not realize that the issue was coming? It’s not like Sports Illustrated tries to keep it a secret. Time-Warner sells millions of dollars worth of calendars, videos and posters based on this one issue, which it heavily promotes year-round. This issue should be as much of a surprise each year as Groundhog’s Day, which is another item that fascinates millions for no earthly reason. Yet, every year, SI’s Swimsuit issue ignites a response quicker than Lawrence Taylor at a football writers dinner. But why? In this age of http's and www's, pictures of naked women are a mouse-click away. Plus, there are many magazines that show more revealing shots of women than this 204-page mislabeled Victoria’s Secret catalog. This year, though, I expect some intense negative responses because SI may have painted itself into a corner. Literally. The magazine photographed nude models with bathing suits painted on them by the same person who colored in Demi Moore for those notorious Vanity Fair colors. Admittedly, the effect is kind of neat because it appears at first glance that the models are wearing a swimsuit. You really have to look at the pictures carefully in order to appreciate the artwork. You’re snickering again. Unfortunately, though, the pictures are like one of those Magic Eye puzzles. The more you stare, the more you see what’s really underneath. And I’m sure many people aren’t going to appreciate that trick. However, to Sports Illustrated, it doesn’t matter because it already has accomplished the toughest trick - making its now highly profitable Swimsuit issue an accepted part of the annual American sports scene. Oh yeah, as for the articles (funny, how it seems like they are always forgotten), E.M. Swift’s story on yacht racing with 1998 cover model Heidi Klum was certainly the most enjoyable. Swift nicely reported on the fun and the pain he had participating in the sailing pro-am. Austin Murphy’s story on the body painting started out well and includes the best line of the magazine. After seeing one of the models up close in a bathing suit, Murphy writes that he found himself “recalling the parting advice of my wife, Laura: ‘Try not to make too big an ass of yourself.’” Unfortunately, he does, as the piece slowly begins to sound like it was written by Beavis and/or Butt-Head. Franz Lidz’s look at Bomba Callwood and his rockin’ bar in the Caribbean bored me, and I learned little new in William Nack’s profile of billionaire Richard Branson, who owned the island where SI shot the issue. In total, 25 pages of text were in this 204-page issue. Of course, it took me about seven hours to read and review those 25 pages. Hey, you're snickering again! Back
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