About four weeks into this little Web experience, I put up a marginally-plaintive wail about ever since I started paying actual dollars for the magazine, my prediction for Playboy’s Playmate of the Year had inexplicably failed to come to pass: Barbara Edwards had somehow beaten out Tracy Vaccaro for PMOY 1984, I got 1985’s wrong as well, and eventually I had a losing streak to rival Susan Lucci’s: thirteen in a row.
Lucci’s streak ended after eighteen, though; mine didn’t. Actual Playmates would email me with gentle chides. (They’re not going to be hateful about it, especially to someone who said in effect “You should have won.”) So it’s thirteen years later, and thirteen more incorrect predictions: I am now 0 for 26. (The complete list is here.) I’m starting to feel like the ’62 Mets: “When one of them hits a single to you,” said Casey Stengel to his outfield, “throw the ball to third. That way we can hold them to a double.”
Bonus Contemporary Relevancy Points: For 2002 I picked Shannon Moakler over Dalene Kurtis, which might possibly have gotten me thrown off Stacy McCain’s blogroll if I had ever been on it in the first place.