I'm not a big televised sports fan. And I'm definitely not a night owl--I've lost track of how many movies (movies everyone assures me are fantastic, must-see sorts of movies) that I've fallen asleep in front of--if I sit still after 8:34 p.m. I'm very likely to be asleep within minutes. Yet, there I was last Thursday night at sometime obscenely close to midnight when I realized I was not only awake, I was enthralled by a televised sporting event.
Actually, tennis has always been my one televised sport weakness--that and the US Men's Olympic gymnastic team in 1984 (dang, they were hot!!!). The first match I really remember seeing was Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe playing the Wimbledon finals sometime in the early '80s. I was rooting for Jimmy, who seemed so much more mature and refined than John (and you know how important maturity is in a man--especially to a 12-year-old). For both the tennis addiction and the men's gymnastic team lust we have my grandparents to thank--I was staying with them both summers and they got three TV channels with their roof antenna (and those they got only when weather didn't interfere). (I also sat through good portions of the Iran-Contra hearings for the very same reason--though I'm happy to say no lust or lifelong interest in televised Congressional hearings developed from that exposure.)
Anyway, Thursday night, around 10:15, I was aimlessly flipping through channels (we have more than three, but a lot of times it just seems like more channels on which there's nothing at all worth watching) and Son-Two comes in to the living room to say, "Agassi's playing."
So Agassi's playing and it's his last U.S. Open and I ended up not just awake, but enthralled until the middle of the friggin' night watching him beat Marcos Baghdatis. It was one of the best matches I've ever seen--not that I can tell you much about the technical aspects of the sport, just that there was so much heart on both sides of the court that it was inspirational to watch.
And of course, I was right there, Saturday afternoon when Agassi lost to Benjamin Becker--who I actually feel kind of bad for since the first thing they asked him was not how great it was to win, but how it felt to beat Agassi in his final game. Dang, that's cold.
Agassi definitely brought something pretty rare to the sport and he will definitely be missed, but there's some real up-and-comers out there who I'll be keeping an eye on. And, I hear my old buddy Jimmy Connors (who turned 54 a few days ago) is coaching Andy Roddick, so I'll keep watching if only to catch a glimpse of Jimmy in the stands...'cuz you know you never forget your first love.
Masked Mom's One-Word Review: Riveting.
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