Tennis is the only professional sport I follow, and only the Grand Slam tournaments. This is perhaps one of the reasons I’ve been able to keep any professional sports in my life–four events, broadcast on ESPN, covered by the International Herald Tribune/NYT (which is my main, sometimes only, news source). These events are also all held during lull periods in the academic year, so I can usually schedule in a few hours of TV time. All this to say, my tennis season has begun with the French Open.
I grew up on clay courts, but we rarely watched the French Open when I was a kid (was it even possible to do so in those heady years before cable TV?), so I have little enthusiasm for it now. I really consider it an appetizer for the July 4th-ish Wimbledon (which I will probably miss, being that I’ll be in Italy–and right before the World Cup), and the September U.S. Open. Both the latter tournaments were a regular part of my childhood; watching the Wimbledon finals is as much a part of my July 4th memories as fireworks.
So this is my obligatory YAY TENNIS post.
But I have one more thing to say: WTF is up with Nadal’s underwear? For three years, I’ve been forced to watch him pick his wedgies between points. I understand nervous ticks but this one is really gross. Is his ass shaped wrongly? Does he need a fashion advisor?
And while we’re on the topic, I’m sick to death of Federer’s tick of swishing his bangs up between points, especially since he’s always wearing a sweatband. Either tuck your bangs into the band, or cut them off. You’re ready for a change of haircut anyway, darling. Go short. You’ve got a pretty face. Go for it.