Name the game
9 September 2013 § Leave a comment
An abrupt venture from the sacred to the profane.
After enjoying the Djoković-Wawrinka and Nadal-Gasquet matches, which remained, to our relief, in the realm of tennis, we have plunged into confusion. Surely Serena Williams and Victoria Azarenka cannot be playing the same dignified game—a game of refined vigour—a game marked by a blend of quick strategy, pure athleticism, and mental endurance.
No, it must be something else. A few possibilities:
1) Child birthing contest; or, how to discard the fruit of all of your Lamaze classes and exhibit irrational breathing and far too much yelling. Such terrifying primal yawps make the yelling of the men seem tame and quiet. This is more the fault of Azarenka, who emits sounds somehow reminiscent of both sirens and screams of pain. Serena evokes more of a fight-or-flight response or, actually, just a flight response. My theory is that she surreptitiously had surgery to replace all of her human muscles with horse muscles and that she must be the one to reform with strict justice and stricter brute force the stop-and-frisk policy mess. I am extremely scared of her, and her occasional presence in New York is the reason I am not moving there.
2) Passive-aggressive protest of fashion week; or, how to ensure that most of America will see the lining rather than the outside of your tennis skirt. This is more of Serena’s (longtime) problem. The least she could do is wear a skirt with an interesting lining material instead of the same colour, complemented by—something else we are not supposed to see—her grey stretchy shorts underneath. The wind also ensures that we view this colour combination as frequently as possible. At least Serena does not seem to mind.
Further comments are impossible, since the past bit of time has been occupied by writing rather than by actually watching the match.