Starfucker Sunday: Jock Jams, Part 5

The nineties, the fifth of the six decades in this ungodly long Ken Burns-like study of Sports Illustrated covers, were pretty terrible overall. Almost entirely action shots of far-away football players and basketball players with their tongues hanging out, there were few weeks where one had the opportunity to longingly gaze at a decent-looking sports star while sitting in one’s dentist’s waiting room. Plus, like Muhammad Ali before him, Michael Jordan was on the cover like every damn week (49 times in his career, actually.) While I don’t think Michael Jordan’s particularly unattractive, my penis also has trouble getting aroused thinking about someone who once starred in a movie with a bunch of Looney Tunes. That said, here’s the ten SI covers from the nineties that I have pinned to my imaginary locker door:

Sometimes bushy eyebrows get me hot. So do steely, determined gazes. Also, makeup!

Greg Lemond made a shitload of covers, even though nobody actually cares about the Tour De France. This is the best one. The positioning makes it easy to think about his ass, and how tight yet penetrable it must be.

I think this cover is supposed to be funny, but I kind of just want this guy to fuck the living daylights out of me. Even though he has kind of crazy Marilyn Manson eyes and bears more than a passing resemblance to Malcolm In The Middle. Maybe it’s because it’s easy to imagine he’s making that face because an SI intern is sucking him off. Or because basketball uniforms provide a nice opportunity for gratuitous displays of sexy armpit hair. Either way. This dude’s slammin’.

And speaking of blowjob fantasies, there’s something oddly sexy about a quarterback walking around in a pair of sweatpants, like his wang might just spring to life is he accidentally gets too close to the center’s ass during practice, or a cheerleader walks by, or something. Like I said, I actually used to jack off to Joe Montana circa this era, so this cover kind of brings back some dirty memories for me.

An odd choice, I know, but he’s got handsome eyes and, honestly, there wasn’t a lot of quality material to choose from….

I chose this cover for several reasons. Like when do you ever see baseball players with their shirts off? (Well, except for that one Darryl Strawberry one from 1987….) Also, I’d pay a lot of money to get gangbanged by the whole Ripken family. That might be vulgar, but Good Lord are they a fine breed of men. Billy, Cal the Elder, and this guy? I don’t know which one I’d take if I got the chance. Anyway, Cal the Younger’s got really blue eyes, but I picked this cover over any of the ones that show them off. Mostly because he’s half naked in this one, but also because, in a way, it’s kind of charming how badly this cover dated–I mean seriously, isn’t there something about it that just screams Cal Ripken Jr Listens To Dogs Eye View And Likes It?

“And if you see Johnny Football Hero in the hall, tell him he played a great game! Tell him you liked his article in the newspaper!!” Emmitt Smith, showing it all off in some short shorts, and the Mannings, another family worth having incest fantasies about. Seriously, Peyton Manning was a fox and a half–still is, actually.

Surprisingly, the best SI boxing cover of the nineties is of this fool, taken a week before he bit off Evander’s ear. How sad that it’s the best boxing cover of the whole decade and he doesn’t even have his shirt off….

The best of the many, many, many, many Michael Jordan/Chicago Bulls covers of the nineties. Incidentally, the one NBA player I ever thought was especially hot in the nineties was John Stockton Utah, but he only made the cover once and it was kind of a dumb picture, which is why it’s not on the list. But I thought he deserved a mention anyway, since I used to think about him pretty much daily when I spanked it.

And here’s the best of the non-manly covers, including the best of the kajillion Jordan covers, from when he was named Sportsman of the Year in 1991. I have no idea what the magazine was thinking, but I kind of love it. Also, a paranoid craze I actually remember, a swimsuit issue that looks like a Parliament ad, Phil Knight’s bad acid trip, Mary Pierce coming to an after-school special near you, Tyra Banks being less overwhelming than usual, and not one but four “meaningful” special reports that are all too stupid to mention.