On the eve of the Roddick-Federer final, I think it is the perfect time to address my feelings on tennis. I love it. What follows is a stream of conscienciousness explaination.......
Growing up, I caught the tail end of miserable Ivan Lendl's run as the number 1 player in the world. But I came of age during the resurgence of American tennis with Sampras, Agassi, Courier, and Michael Chang and became hooked. There is something awesome and slightly erotic seeing those American flags run through the brackets and dominate the other countries.
Tennis (and to a lesser extent, golf) allows us to drap ourselves in Olympic level patriotism year round. For of two weeks of summer and winter every four years, I have to learn about swimmers, gymnasts, sprinters, speedskaters, downhill skiers, and those burnout snowboarders. I have convinced myself to care about these things and while I do get the quick shot of adrenline and the warmth of patriot duty and success, part of me feels I would be having more fun watching these events in an underground gambling hall in chinatown betting like a fiend. (If you have ever seen Van Damme's masterpiece Bloodsport, you know what I am talking about.) The events last, at most, for about two minutes. There is a complete absences of strategy and nusance. After the rush, there is nothing. Prolonging my own enjoyment is my sole focus most of the time, the Olympics make this difficult.
Tennis gives you the same things the Olympic events do, but they last longer than the first time I had sex, have strategy, players make adjustments, and have built in drama in every single game. If you watched the tape-delayed (I hate NBC sports) Roddick-Fistpumping loser match yesterday, you heard Mcnroe and Carillo talking about Roddick's serve and volleys and how fistpumping loser was slicing his returns and Roddick had figured him out. I never heard anything like that during the Olympics. Outside of every single football play, the bottom of the 9th in a close game, and end of game situations in hockey/basketball......When a tennis player has a chance to break serve in a close match, there is nothing more exciting and drama-filled.
Back in the day HBO had the Wimbeldon coverage up to the semis. So after sports camp, I would head home and sit on my parents bedroom floor with some baseball book and watch 3-4 hours of coverage before travel games. Then after dinner and getting yelled at my dad for the one time I got out that day, I would watch all the recaps and highlights pick me favorites and sleepers. It became a summer tradition for 5-6 years, and was always a highlight.
I don't have all that much use for New York. I love flying in, blacking out, raging like a maniac and then flying out. But back in the early fall of 05, I was heading out to Boston (worthless town) to see Dwill play Matt Ryan (Double OT ClemPson L, classic Tommy Bowden incompetence), and as I am apt to do, sandwiched the trip with NYC bookends. I found myself with an entire Friday left to my own devices. There is an extreme lack of decent bars in Midtown Manhattan, so after I hit St. Pat's and went by Bryant park trying to spot celebs and models during fashion week I was shit-out-of-luck. But I happened upon Rockefeller Center and then had a decent size lawn set up with tremendous chairs and a huge outdoor projection screen. So I spent the afternoon with 70 of my new friends drinking $8 heinkens and watching Sharapova dispatch Justin Henin. The Open is a huge deal out there and I ended up talking tennis with strangers until Field got out of work. One of the best solo experiences of my life. Ever since, I have been telling myself that I have to get back to New York during the Open. College Football has prevented me from making the trip. Maybe I will get lucky and the Pack will play BC early in Boston or maybe someone interesting will make the trip to Piscataway. Although it maybe easier if I restart the pigskin classic and have it at the J-E-T-S new stadium every year (probably a whole new post).
Finally, Tennis, as all sport, is more interesting if you have a dog in the fight. Of course my dog, is Roddick. First, he is an American. Second, he is a savage. Third, he is awesome. Fourth, he serves like SCUD missile. Fifth, his forehand is killer. Sixth, he is American. I got so jacked up yesterday after the four set W over the fistpumping loser, that I needed some gear for Sunday against the swiss. The best I could do was snap up a Lacoste hat http://www1.macys.com/catalog/product/index.ognc?ID=322420&PseudoCat=se-xx-xx-xx.esn_results (in maroon).
So I will be up early on Sunday, hat on, flat screen on NBC, maple sausage links on the grill, jalepeno scambled egg burritos on the sideburner, getting fired up.
God bless America and American tennis.
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