Grunts
Tennis isn't the prime topic around these parts, But Seattle-bound Jared chimes in with his take on the women's Wimbledon finals. Not that I'm anti-tennis. I was going to watch the Andy Roddick match when I rolled out of bed this morning, but DirecTV is being DirecTV again and the signal is spotty. Anyway, Dave's World is all about giving the people what they want, plus, SBJ went to Bucknell, and when your team knocks off Kansas, you earn the right to talk about whatever you want, whether it is beating Kansas, or Wimbledon:
So I'm watching the women's Wimbledon final. NBC says it's live, but
ESPN.com already has a huge headline up. Both Davenport and Williams are in
the picture, so I managed to close my browser before seeing who won. So
all right. A couple random thoughts. One, why can't I like either of
the Williams sisters? Unclear. They're great players, but neither carry
a personality or aura about them that is appealing. But I can't place
it. Is it cockiness? Is it an "I'm better than everybody else, and
can't understand why I sometimes miss a shot" underpinning? Maybe it
is, as Venus is currently demonstrating, that they epitomize the
screaming and grunting that has overtaken women's tennis. Sure, there
are men that yell, but this high-pitched crap that Venus unleashes on
EVERY point is driving me up the wall. I could forgive a yelp every so
often, but I'm tempted to turn off the TV sound. I'm trying to think of
a sport where something similar is allowed. Golf is similar in that the
crowd is quiet and the sport is played one shot at a time ... and I
don't hear Annika Sorenstam crying like a baby out on the links (not
that I watch any women's golf). One thing is for sure, though -- my
mental toughness is far weaker than Davenport's because I'd be at the
net asking Venus if she has a vocal cord problem every other point. I
wonder if these players watch tapes of themselves and hear how
ridiculous they sound ...
So, OK, Venus wins in the longest women's final at Wimbledon, 9-7 in
the third set. Great. She hit some screeching groundstrokes (to go
with her ear-piercing yells), and Davenport, with a bad back, couldn't
keep pace. Now admittedly, I don't know what it feels like to win such
an event ... but after celebrating and shaking hands with Davenport,
Williams (who has now won 5 grand slam singles titles) starts jumping
around like a little 5-year-old. While it's good to see a kid at heart,
I'll still take a jubilant yet elegant winner any day. Her antics
weren't grossly out of line, but I always remember my Dad's advice --
be a gracious loser; be even more gracious when you win. Again,
stepping into Davenport's shoes, I'd tell Venus to go back to
kindergarten.
Actually, I think it would be pretty entertaining if, say, Ernie Els let out some sort of guttural roar every time he went for a chip shot, myself.
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