What the hell is the story with Tennis? It used to be so cool. All these players like John McEnroe, Pat Cash, Boris Becker, Ivan Lendl, Stefan Edberg – all characters, all interesting. Playing with style, playing with vigour, playing around between tournaments.
Now? Straight up and down players like Federer, annoying gits like Hewitt, vanilla players like Tommy Haas, Andy Roddick, et al. I call it the cult of seriousness.
Tennis is a pretty glamourous sport. These primma donnas fly around the world, get pampered and totally spoilt by an adoring and acquiescent media pack and get awarded a couple of ten thousand bucks for losing in the third round of some tournament in some exotic location. Yeah obviously they work hard to get there and we admire their athleticism, but how about a bit of personality?
It’s got all the ingredients for “The Simple Life”; money, glamour, media attention, exotic locations, travel, lifestyle. But what the hell are they?
When I watch the tennis I’m paying for not just the game, but a story! I want to know that this guy just went bezerk for a fortnight, carousing with ten different supermodels on his yacht in Monaco (providing enough photos for the paparazzi to go nuts for a month) and then went to his exclusive Caribbean training camp where he put in the hard yards, got fit and ended up cleaning up at the Australian Open.
I want to barrack for the guy who worked hard and played hard, not the boring man that places being the world number one above all, takes himself so seriously and marriess some chick from Home and Away.
No wonder the ratings have gone down and the sport is something like the 18 most watched in the US.
Mind you, Formula One isn’t far behind – oh for the days of the Playboy Eddies: Jordan and Irvine.
FOOTY: Sport in general
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