This is “ESPN: The Magazine.” I read it on the way to visit Virginia Tech over the weekend. It had some cool articles in it, but my little brother reclaimed it before I could really get through the whole thing.

I went straight to the meat, though, and read three of the cover stories. Here’s how it played out.

The issue has Alexander Ovechkin on the cover, the ugliest man in sports. I say that because he’s lost one tooth that we know of, also because at least two girls I know have huge crushes on him, and I don’t get it.

In any case, he’s the Caps’ saving grace, and therefore mine. (He’s amazing! I love him.) And the article is pretty fun, lots of play with comparisons to the presidential campaign. Some of them are pretty stupid though:

“Ovechkin could carry himself like some hockier-than-thou arugula-eater, but when he was asked for an autograph by a fan named Phil, he signed it ‘To Fill.’”

So there’s that. The photo spread is especially good, with Laich, Backstrom, and Green (I think, I don’t have it in front of me) as secret service guys, and Boudreau stepping on to Marine 1.

Here’s my favorite part of the piece:

Every leader needs a climactic story point that illustrates his character. For John McCain, it’s his time in a POW camp; for Barack Obama, it’s his speech at the 2004 Democratic Convention. For Ovechkin, it’s a game in Pittsburgh last season when he took a skate to the leg and left the Igloo with a six-inch gash. None of the Caps would have blamed him for returning to DC to heal, but Ovechkin traveled with the team to Ottawa and played two nights later, scoring four goals and an assist in an 8-6 win. “Every time he moved, the stitches opened,” says Boudreau. “And he played through it.” Fans may remember the ass-over-teakettle goal he netted in a 6-1 win over Phoenix in 2006, but Caps officials cherish that cold night in Ottawa when their leader proved he could be counted on when needed most.

We’re taking the Cup this season.

Other stories I had time to read were less successful.

One writer followed USF pass-rusher George Selvie around for the day, going bite for bite with his 7,000 calorie-a-day diet. It was an OK read, but the profile lacked heart and could have been funnier. Still, it had some good parts.

“I’ll go get you a burger,” Twana offers, smiling. Then she corrects herself. “I’ll go get y’all burgers.” Oh, that ain’t right. Sweating again, I burp, bend over and cough. “You all right?” Selvie asks. I make a noise of affirmation. He’s not so sure. “You look like one of those offensive linemen right before they throw up.”

Gluttony can be pretty funny (like when Kenny vs. Spenny does it), but I feel like the writer never bought in on this piece. He could have taken it further.

I only read one more article. It answered a question I’ve been asking everyone within earshot: “Why isn’t world’s strongest man the most popular thing ever?”

From Steve MacDonald, America’s strongest man:

“They didn’t even print a line in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette when I won,” he says. Figures, since the 80 or so professional strongmen walking America’s streets disguise themselves as something else. Derek Poundstone, America’s Strongest Man of 2007, is a Connecticut cop. Jason Kristal, 2008’s titleholder, works at a California nutritional-supplement company. “Strongmen in Eastern Europe are national celebrities,” MacDonald says. “Here…”

Strong man competitions have small cash prizes, and steroids are an unspoken rule. When not competing, MacDonald owns a bar in Pittsburgh, where he’s just a regular, if strong, guy.

This article had a lot more heart, it’s a good read.

Overall, though, the magazine was just OK. I didn’t have a lot of time to get deep into it, but from flipping through it and reading those articles, I’m not rushing out to buy a subscription, either. Unless they keep putting Ovie on the cover.