The Human Whoopee Cushion seems mildly perturbed that Sports Illustrated’s Steve Rushin has been named National Sportswriter of the Year by the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association. And indeed, who amongst us isn’t disappointed that the award didn’t go to a guy that combs On The DL for his most traffic-boosting features?
On the laff-riot meter, Rushin can be counted on for a funny gag every 2 or 3 issues. Not the highest of batting averages, admittedly, but far better than the Al Leiter of sports blogging.
Rushin also proves that the best way to win a national sportswriter of the year award is never actually have an opinion, but be a big fan of jokes about Viagra and sand traps.
If only the voters had consisted of bright minds like Warren St. John and Vincent Mallozzi, some overdue recognition could’ve gone to say, a big fan of jokes about Peyton Manning being queer.
Still, as preposterous as it may seem, the Human Whoopie Cushion calling anyone out who can actually string a sentence together, I’m grateful it happened in this instance. The likelihood of Leitch getting his ass kicked by Rebecca Lobo just increased exponentially.