Love

I would never have categorized myself as a sports lover. Cheese lover? Sure. Movie lover? Definitely. Diabolical space cop? Yes! But not a sports lover. No, to me, the best thing about sports has always been the snacks. Nachos, hot dogs, popcorn, pizza--that's the stuff. Give me processed cheese out of a pump or give me death. I guess some people also enjoy the camaraderie that is created among spectators while watching a live sporting event--everyone huddled together under a fleece blanket on a cold October night, cheeks and noses rosy from the cold, waiting to see if Johnny Quicksly will get a touchdown, win the game, and bring pride back to the town... But who needs camaraderie when you've got a frozen chocolate covered banana?

It wasn't until I read Andre Agassi's autobiography "Open" that I fell in love with the non-food aspects of a sport. There's something magical about the combination of speed, strength, power, and mental and physical agility a player must possess in order to be truly great at tennis. Plus, sometimes the players get really mad and throw their racquets. That's always pretty satisfying to see because extreme, soul-shattering frustration is something we've all dealt with in life. I mean, once when I was in 8th grade I got so mad that I knocked over my bookshelf. I can't remember what I was so mad about, but I do remember the feeling I had right after I knocked over my bookshelf. It was a God DAMN IT, now I've gotta clean up all my books kind of a feeling. It made me wish I had another bookshelf to knock over.

But really, you've gotta hand it to tennis players. They're all alone out there on the court--no teammates to blame if they double fault or hit the ball out of bounds at match point. It's just the sun, the wind, the court, and the opponent--beautiful in its simplicity, like modern-day gladiator combat, but with less blood and tigers. Watching tennis, on TV or live, my heart pounds, the blood rushes through my veins, and I feel like I'm sure the spectators of gladiatorial games felt back in the day--intensely interested, rooting for the good guy, and waiting for changeover so I can go get one of those delicious frozen lemonades.

Tennis is one of the most emotional and personal sports, if you ask me. I mean, in basketball, if you miss a free throw, it's sad and all, but there's not a word for it--like oh, "he free fell" or something. In tennis, if a player is serving and his opponent wins that game, they say the opponent "broke serve" or "broke" the player. You hear it all the time, John McEnroe as commentator saying, "Oh man, he just broke him again! He is not having an easy time of it out there today." I mean, 'he broke him'? That's harsh. Plus, sometimes the players taunt one another. They do little celebrations when they win an important point--they do a fist pump, they scream, they jump, they smirk. Sometimes they point at each other! Taunting is probably one of my favorite things in life, so I'm glad it's a big part of tennis. But it just goes to show how mentally bad-ass tennis players are--they're stealthy, they're smart, and they're out for blood. They think through every point, they draw their opponent up to the net only to slam the ball back to baseline and out of reach. They're like assassins, waiting for the perfect moment to step out of the shadows and make their move.

Tennis is like love--sometimes it's exhilarating, sometimes it's crushing, and sometimes you're just wading through, trying to make it to match point. But even when you lose, you keep going back for more. I know I'm in it for the long haul, and this time the processed cheese is just gravy.