Tennis Marathon

(BOD - Beverly Mahood)

Last night was a night of firsts.

No, not that kind of first. This lasted way longer than 37 seconds and the young lady involved actually enjoyed herself.

I went to a Dave and Buster’s and got the shit kicked out of me at a variety of arcade games by a member of the fairer sex. It was completely emasculating; although, to listen to AG and He Who Hits Bombs pretty much ‘sext’ each other in the comments section, that ship has already sailed.

Now, in my defence, I have never been one to play video games. I think they are a complete waste of time. Thus, my lack of playing time causes me to be terrible at them; especially if they require you to press more than one button at a time. You put me on the original Nintendo and I will dominate. On the other hand, I can’t even figure out how to start a game on the Xbox.

Not only did she pump me in the video arcade, but she crushed, and I mean crushed, me in a legitimate free throw shooting competition. That was tough for me to take. I don’t like losing in sports, especially to someone with two X chromosomes. The only game I was able to redeem myself on was the football throwing contest.

I dominated that event. I was like Brett Favre out there. I purposely eschewed the high percentage passes in favour of chucking up long bombs. My strategy worked too. Although, I completed less than fifty percent of my passes I managed to score two touchdowns in two minutes. Now that’s what I call a 2 minute drill.

After my beatdown was over and I was nursing my sorrows with a beer, I happened to glance up at the sports ticker. The ticker was running through the Wimbledon scores and I saw the following: 6-4, 3-6, 6-7 (7), 7-6 (3), 59-59.

What?

I thought for a second I was hallucinating. Or maybe the tears from my defeat were stinging my eyes. Two guys were tied at 59-59 in the fifth set of a Grand Slam? It was hard to process mentally.

John Isner and Nicolas Mahut have played each other for over ten hours over two days. Their fifth set, already a robust seven hours and six minutes old, would, in itself, be the longest match in tennis history.

It’s amazing that these two players are still upright after playing for such an epic length of time. To put it into perspective, in Cuba, Gretzpo and I played our tennis/squash mix for approximately two hours a day for our entire week’s vacation. And we were wrecked physically from that ordeal. I can’t imagine what Isner and Mahut are going through right now.

The happiest person in England right now has to be the guy who gets to play the winner of this marathon. There’s no way either of these guys will have anything left in the tank to continue on in the tournament.

This is the last column of the week. Early tomorrow, Gretzpo and I embark on a pilgrimage to Philadelphia to worship at the altar of Doc Halladay. The G20 isn’t going to stop me from seeing Roy up close and personal. There also may be a Rocky spoof in the works, along with a special roadtrip podcast.

See you on Monday.