Your Definitive Will Leitch Parody

As you may know, Will Leitch, editor of Deadspin and spiritual godfather to this site, releases his brand spankin’ new book tomorrow (Buy it here). Well, we couldn’t let this occasion pass by without letting the man himself pay us a visit to make a Super Bowl prediction and tell you, the reader, exactly why you should pony up $16.47 for his latest effort. The floor is yours, Leitch.

To be frank, we find this whole book promotion business rather embarrassing. We mean, jeez, we want you to buy our new book (which we wrote all by ourself), but we don’t actually want to LOOK like we’re trying to sell it to you. That just isn’t how we were raised as a child. We were raised to be a young man of good standing, and to hide behind of very thin veneer of politeness so that our unseemly actions don’t seem so unseemly. We’re a unique person like that.

We suppose we should direct you now to some of the highlights of the book. For example, there is our one-on-one conversation with John Rocker. Then there was the time we (and by we, we mean us and AJ Daulerio) played football against Andre Rison and Kordell Stewart. Then there is our favorite section, the section where we felt so isolated and lonely as a singular Cardinals fan in New York during the World Series, only to end up bonding with a group of Cards fans at the only St. Louis fan bar in town. We really felt like we were part of a group that night. We didn’t feel so alone and by ourself that night. It really touched us as a person.

What you may not know about that section of the book is that there were over 15,000 words edited out by our friend David Hirshey. You see, after the game, we went home to our apartment (where we live alone). Then, we donned a Rick Ankiel jersey, grabbed a bottle of Jergens lotion, pulled the covers way up over our head, and masturbated ourselves bone dry while trying to ignore the fact that we were masturbating. We kept score while doing so.

Then, we stayed up until 6AM writing separate articles for Penthouse, New York, The New York Times, GQ, Spin, Muscle & Fitness, Lears, Screw, House Beautiful, Esquire, Bob’s Hardware Store’s Monthly Employee Newsletter, Parade, Country Living, Cooking Light, and Thrasher. Then we live glogged a 4AM session of British Parliament for The Guardian. We were so tired! So we did it again the next night. Boy, we sure wish we could sleep! Between all that writing and having other people write all the Deadspin posts, we’re swamped!

Can you believe we root for the Buzzsaw? We must be CRAZY!

We suppose we should also mention the part of the book that talks about the whole Peter King-KSK thing. This was a perfect opportunity for us to mildly defend the objectionable actions of bloggers without actually BEING the bloggers who did something objectionable. That way, we come off smelling like a rose. It’s an ingenious strategy we devised.

For example, take our commenters. Heavens to Betsy, they sure can get blue! We sometimes think they can go too far (but we’re only saying that to cover our ass). We’d certainly never say something so ribald! Far better to let them do it! Then we can say well WE didn’t say it! It was those kooky commenters! They’re so untamed! We can’t believe they said Simmons’ wife would get more excitement from fucking a dog than her husband! We would never even think that! And, if we did, much better to egg on people to say it for us!

So we hope you enjoy the book. Hopefully, it will be nominated for the DS Hall of Fame. Or our Sports Human of the Year Award. Or our Word of the Year Award. Or our Deadspin Meme Tournament. Or our We Need An Excuse To Rehash Barbaro Jokes Award. One thing you should know about the book is that, after three months, it redesigns itself into a new format in which each page is broken down into 17 other pages. Denton tells us this is the way of the future. We didn’t like it at first. But we’ve grown comfortable with it, and we think you will too. We’d object to these changes but, jeez, we’d hate to have to actually assert ourselves.

As for our Super Bowl pick, we hate this sort of thing. Picking games means we have to have a definitive sports opinion. And that’s just too old media. But we’ll pick it anyway, just to make a point of how pointless it is. We enjoy having cake and eating it, too.

Patriots 36, Giants 10

Again, we know nothing. Or our name isn’t William F. Leitch.