Whatever. I get it. Girl is smoking hot. I wish I looked that good, like every minute of every day I wish I looked that good. I also kind of wish I could even play a passable game of tennis without feeling like I was going to keel over and die and hit a ball without it knocking me in the eye, much less be one of the top-ranked players in the world.
Take that, John McEnroe, with your “ladies shouldn’t play as many matches as men, women are weaker, blahblahblah.” Venus Williams and women who are even half as good at tennis as she is are outstanding. I bow to them.
Also it’s still hot in New York, yes. And Venus is a fashion designer who is into the clothes. But I honestly have to wonder if these teensy beensy clothes are necessary? What’s next? She comes out naked with a racket? All “Whoo! Look at me! I’m a naked tennis player!” That would really shock me, I admit. I’d kind of like to see her try it. I guess she could still try to set the bar lower with fabric — or in this case higher and higher up her ass — but where does it end? You only have so much body and so little material to work with.
Anyway. Venus kicked barely-clothed ass on the court again today, advancing to the U.S. Open semifinal, in spite of the need to yank at her underwear pants for the duration of the match.
And that is the story I really want to tell you, that she advanced to the semifinal again in a Grand Slam tournament. But instead? Pants, or lack thereof, that’s what’s burning up the tubes. (Yes, including this one. I get it.) But that still irks me. Venus is one of the most talented and celebrated female athletes in history. While I think it’s a foolish myth that athletes equal role models, I do think that there could be some focus on the sport over the show. You can’t tell me she doesn’t know that when she comes out minimally-clothed on her bottom half, that that is going to be the buzz.
And honestly I guess that’s her prerogative. She has the history and the celebrity at this point to do whatever she wants, and no matter what she wears she’s still going to play kickass tennis until she doesn’t anymore. I just wish, even though I’m not exactly sure why I care, that she would put some pants on while she’s doing it.
When Dustin Johnson teed off on the first hole on the last day of the U.S. Open with a three-shot lead after three days of making Pebble Beach his Pebble Bitch, most believed he’d roll to victory. In fact, I was watching the tournament with my father as he was explaining to me how Johnson won two Pro-Ams there and absolutely loved this course.
I hadn’t seen the first few days, I was doing some stuff, but had heard of old Dustin and his walk to victory. And when my father was done explaining Johnson’s meteoric rise to prominence, I said, “The Pro-Am ain’t the final day of the U.S. Open. The wheels are going to fall off. I guarantee it.”
By the sixth hole, Johnson had not only lost his lead, but dropped a full six shots back to even par. He would go on to shoot the highest round for a third round leader in 99 years.
This would open the door for Els, Love, Mickelson and Woods, all well within striking distance of the workhorse Graeme McDowell and last second qualifier, Havret. Els would even tie the lead at one point, seemingly poised to grab his third US Open.
Then they all sucked. No one could make a putt, no one could hit a shot, and the charge for which we all waited from one of the greatest players in the world would never happen. The drama was there, as they all had a chance to win, and the one who did just sucked less than everyone else.
Havret (the Frenchman who qualified by making a 50-foot putt on the last hole) would have a 15-footer to have a chance to force the playoff. He missed it. Els would have several opportunities, Love would kick himself no less than 50 times after the tournament, and Woods would tell announcers afterward something a long the lines of “It’s like I told Steve. We made three mental mistakes and it cost us the US Open.” (I thought it was interesting that Tiger was the only one graceful enough to make it a team loss.) Mickelson looked as if he wasn’t sure this was the US Open, looking practically bemused as he hacked it around the course.
It was almost as if this last Father’s Day, every dad on the course would take a day of relaxation, except for the one watching his son, first-time major winner Graeme McDowell, beat the best golfers in the world without once waivering.
Happy belated Father’s Day, Mr. McDowell. There’s not a father in the world who doesn’t envy you.
I come from a tennis family. I received my first tennis racket and tennis whites from my cousins when I was 4 years old. Every summer, I lived and breathed playing tennis, whether it was taking my racket to a public park in New York City and hitting a bright yellow ball against a graffiti-ed wall or backhanding a volley with my dad on the court at our country house in upstate New York. Knowing this, it will come as no surprise that some of my favorite summer memories involve watching tennis on TV (or the Telly as my family called it) with the whole fam damily. In particular the US Open was must-see tennis TV in our household. During this time, my dad and cousins would serve up the scotch, or the Tom Collins, and I would sip on my own special drink, a tonic water with a slice of lemon. All of us would munch on an assortment of gourmet crackers and cheeses, olives and crudite’ with the understanding that we would speak only during commercial breaks. When I got to high school I would joke that “Intennis” would be an acceptable term to use for our intensity when it came to watching any of the Grand Slams.When I got the chance at 15 to go with my mother to England for the summer, you bet your sweet arse I took the train out to Wimbledon all by myself so I could stand at center court and watch some of the greatest of the greats play ball. Sipping a Pims cup, eating strawberries and cream. Ahhhh this was the life!
Despite my own interest in tennis, my sons really hadn’t developed the same affection for watching it on TV, however after summer camp last year, my kids came back with a renewed interest in tennis. And I was of course very happy about it. So over the weekend the kids and I were watching the US Open Women’s Singles Semi Final between Serena Williams and Kim Clijsters Since my family is not as “intennis” about watching, we do talk during the matches. We discussed how Kim is a new mom, how she took a year off from playing and is now coming back and doing so well. I am quite proud of my sons that they recognize women in sports as being equally impressive as men being on the court, field or diamond. My children understand the great equalizer is as much about athletic prowess as it is about sportsmanship (sportspersonship?), so you can well imagine my kids were surprised to see Serena Williams lose her shit on the court, not once, but twice.
When Serena lost the first set to Kim, she threw her own racket down and broke it. Okay, well this isn’t anything new. I remember watching John McEnroe do the same thing in 1981 at Wimbledon. And the response from the officials to Serena’s outburst was to lob her a warning and play continued which historically is how such tantrums have been handled. I explained this to my sons as they wondered why she wasn’t just told to leave the game if she couldn’t play nice. But then came the “foot fault“ called on Serena.
My children and I watched as Serena cursed out the lineswoman, not once, but twice. While the audio of her tirade wasn’t able to be heard, I would be kidding myself if I didn’t think my 9 year old and my 13 year old missed lip-reading the word “fucking” being said by Serena repeatedly. It didn’t go unnoticed by me, but I waited to say anything until I heard an audible confirmation from the two of them that they had figured it out. “Mom, did you see what she just said?” Confirmation complete. We all watched as Serena challenged the lineswoman, the Chair, Donna Kelso the Grand Slam Supervisor and Brian Earley the US Open Referee. Visions of John McEnroe danced in my head. I remember watching him tantrum on the court many times, it was afer all what he was known for, just as Jimmy Connors was known to have a potty mouth. So as I watched what was unfolding, I was trying to think how my own parents addressed the bad behavior I sometimes saw when I watched Jimmy and John. And you know what? They didn’t say a thing to me about it. Nope, they didn’t use it as a teachable moment, they did not discuss the replay. I know. Sounds horrible doesn’t it as we look through today’s lens of overly intense parenting practices? But I assure you, I’m on it.
Basically it comes down to this, if you are teaching your kids right from wrong, they know it and can see it for themselves. Nothing tops personal experience and direct observation. So, it was with this in mind that I said nothing to my sons about what they think they lip-read or what they saw Serena do. We did discuss a little bit about ”roid rage” and wondered together if that was what we were seeing in Serena, but at the same time hoped it was not the case. I listened as they both talked to each other about how even when under pressure, you just can’t say and do whatever it is you feel like doing. Both of the kids brought up that Serena wasn’t respectful to the lineswoman and the sport in general.
When it was announced on Sportscenter that Serena had been fined $10,000 for unsportsmanshipconduct and another $500 dollars for racket abuse my sons reinforced my decision to not overparent them in the moment as they both chimed in simultaneously, “She deserved that.” And that my friends, is a double grand slam in the parenting department. In lieu of a trophy, I’ll just grab a tonic water and a slice lemon for old times sake.
Heather B.: The flight attendants totally knew what we were all doing. As they did...
GoonSquadSarah: I love this so much, Heather. I think there is something wrong with me...
VeggieTart: I'm going to politely disagree with you on one point: Yes, Ovie's hit...
flutter: Exactly what Trix said....
Tricia Honea: This is so sad. I hope that he will be remembered for his grand career...