After almost 2 full weeks of Wimbledon, shortly after 2 full weeks of the French Open, I'm itching to play tennis. However, it's hot as balls here. There was a brief break in the 90-degree heatwave last night, since it tried to storm all day yesterday, without success. (Just fucking rain already!) I waited for Annie to get home from her kickball league, and I dragged her and Angel out to the nearby courts.
I've yet to see anybody else out there playing tennis since we moved here. However, as we turned the corner and started down the parking lot, there was a doubles match and a woman with a ball machine taking up 2 of the 4 courts. There was a dog tied inside the court by the doubles match, similar to what we were about to do.
So, we set up shop next to the doubles players. The first thing I heard them say was some drawl-y reference to Wimbledon. The only thing going for them that looked remotely Wimbledon, was the white wife-beater that one was wearing. One was shirtless. One had steel-toe work boots on.
As Annie and I hit around, I couldn't help but be entertained at their version of tennis.
Their score worked like this: get a point, add a point. So instead of 15-30, it'd be 1-2. If you got to 4-4, it'd go back to 3-3, "because that's how them French do it. They call it deuces."
Anytime a ball would end up next to their tied up dog, there'd be some comment like, "you're gettin' greedy, Blue. You got your ball."
"Hey, before we leave, can we play one at a time. I want to see what it's like to have to run this whole court." "You don't have to run the whole court, you gotta run from that line-y thing to that one." "This white line-y thing?" "To the other one."
I'm not great at tennis, but their skills made their game look more like pickleball. All I could think of was, how in the hell did these guys decide to come out and attempt to play, and who the hell had all of the racquets and balls? And, why the hell are they watching Wimbledon?
If I'm lyin', I'm dyin',
~RoB
P.S. Throughout this blog, I've Google Image searched some of the strangest phrases, with even stranger results. Like these for "redneck tennis":
I've yet to see anybody else out there playing tennis since we moved here. However, as we turned the corner and started down the parking lot, there was a doubles match and a woman with a ball machine taking up 2 of the 4 courts. There was a dog tied inside the court by the doubles match, similar to what we were about to do.
So, we set up shop next to the doubles players. The first thing I heard them say was some drawl-y reference to Wimbledon. The only thing going for them that looked remotely Wimbledon, was the white wife-beater that one was wearing. One was shirtless. One had steel-toe work boots on.
As Annie and I hit around, I couldn't help but be entertained at their version of tennis.
Their score worked like this: get a point, add a point. So instead of 15-30, it'd be 1-2. If you got to 4-4, it'd go back to 3-3, "because that's how them French do it. They call it deuces."
Anytime a ball would end up next to their tied up dog, there'd be some comment like, "you're gettin' greedy, Blue. You got your ball."
"Hey, before we leave, can we play one at a time. I want to see what it's like to have to run this whole court." "You don't have to run the whole court, you gotta run from that line-y thing to that one." "This white line-y thing?" "To the other one."
I'm not great at tennis, but their skills made their game look more like pickleball. All I could think of was, how in the hell did these guys decide to come out and attempt to play, and who the hell had all of the racquets and balls? And, why the hell are they watching Wimbledon?
If I'm lyin', I'm dyin',
~RoB
P.S. Throughout this blog, I've Google Image searched some of the strangest phrases, with even stranger results. Like these for "redneck tennis":
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