History has been made...

I have never been much of a tennis fan, but I can certainly appreciate the conditioning and athleticism that is necessary to play. Even though some of the scoring system seems strange to me (why, in a game, do you go from zero ('love') to 15, to 30, to 40 and then win, instead of 1,2,3,4?), I understand that one must win a game by two points. One must win six games (also by 2) to win a set, and three out of five sets to win the match. If a set is tied at six, there is a tiebreaker to see who wins.

Except in the final set at Wimbledon, where players can keep playing until someone wins by two. Such is currently the case...

John Isner and Nicolas Mahut were tied at two sets each Tuesday, when play was suspended by darkness. So, they returned Wednesday to finish the last set. 7 hours and 6 minutes later, play was suspended again, WITH NO WINNER. Tied 59-59!!!

To watch this is truly mesmerising - a final SET alone that broke the record for the longest MATCH in tennis history (the entire match time is over 10 hours)!!! All kinds of other records were broken as well - too many to mention here. And I can honestly say that I can't wait to tune into ESPN to watch this tomorrow to see how it all turns out.

But try to think of JUST STANDING continuously for over 7 hours, with only periodic 1-minute breaks ever 10-15 minutes. Halfway through I would need a nap. Or to go to the bathroom. Or to eat.

If you have a chance to watch the ending (hopefully) Thursday, try to do so - or at least read about it in depth somewhere. You see, neither of these guys will win Wimbledon this year, as one has to eventually lose THIS match and the winner would exceed expectations just by waking up in time for the next match. But, the heart and perseverance that each has shown the past two days should serve as an example to everyone about determination and will and about never giving up.

We all have our favorite players or favorite teams that we root for. And even though I believe that athletes should not be role models, I am willing to amend that thought, as these two men are the exception. Because on top of the marathon match, the records, and all the physical drain, both have been complete sportsmen - no chest-thumping or trash-talking, just two guys giving it their all, with respect for the opponent.

For that reason most of all, this will go down a palatable example of the old adage...its not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.

I'm trying to get on board, but...

(Before I begin, I apologize for the month-long hiatus, and thank you to all of you who have requested the blog revival).

The every-other-day adrenaline rushes provided by the Blackhawks are but memories now, so I find myself searching for something to satisfy my sports jones. I've tried the Sox and Cubs, but both are mired in mediocrity and the pace of the game (compared to the hockey I am used to) can be generously described as laborious.

So, I decided to try something new to me...World Cup Soccer.

I had previously dismissed the sport as boring, knowing that most games have very few goals and that ties are acceptable and commonplace. But after watching a few matches, I have a new appreciation for this event.

The World Cup seems to parallel the Olympics, as most players take a break from playing for their professional teams and are united in playing for their country once every four years. And the enthusiasm of the fans supporting their countries is undeniably frenzied and inspirational. But there are a couple of characteristics that don't make sense to me...

First of all, the drama and over-acting that is on display during any given match is more than you would find on "The Jersey Shore" and "The Real Housewives of Orange County" combined. I mean really...the flailing and grimacing that occurs nearly every time someone falls to the ground is embarrassing. Lose seven teeth during the course of the game and then come back and play in the same game, and then you might be able to complain a little about the guy that pushed you down or kicked you in your padded shin guard. Play the game, prima donnas.

Also, I think that some of these guys have taken a few too many off the noggin. I mean, I like to watch the players trash-talk and complain to the refs. My amusement comes from knowing that German players more than likely don't understand what Serbian players are saying, and both can complain all they want to the Spanish ref, who doesn't understand either of them. My experience is that trash-talk and complaining work best when the message can be understood by the recipient, but these guys don't seem to care. It doesn't matter to me, as I just watch and give my own narrative, a la "Mystery Science Theater 3000".

But as much as I may want to try and embrace this event, the annoying buzzing of vuvuzelas makes watching difficult. Vuvuzelas are the plastic horns that are blown for the duration of the game by the fans, making it sound like a bee attack. How do they do that for 90 minutes straight? Worse yet, I have begun to hear these around the neighborhood. The pain and discomfort that these annoyances bring to the broadcast are similar to the vocal stylings provided by Hawk Harrelson during Sox games. So, I'll watch both with the sound off.

Let it be known that I have tried something new, but I just don't think that I'll become a follower. There's only so much audible pain that a man can take. I'll just catch a live baseball game or two, wait patiently for the football/hockey season to start again and hope that I don't run across someone blowing a vuvuzela out on the street.

If I do, I may be forced to turn it into a sitting pogo stick for them, and then have to endure complaining in a language I don't understand.