They say he talks trash, and that he’s cocky. He does, I agree. But like Muhammad Ali, that’s absolutely no problem if you can back it all up. If you can walk the walk, you have the liberty to talk the talk until the cows come home.
Unfortunately for David Haye, and sadly for British boxing, it wasn’t to be in Hamburg, beaten on points against the awkward, boring but effective giant that is Klitschko. Which Klitscho was it though? They could almost be twins. Perhaps the Klitscho corner swapped brothers halfway through the fight.
We all anticipate a knockout with the heavyweights. It’s hilarious to see a punch-drunk zombie falling around the ring. These cagey, cautious affairs may be value for money, but for all the smack talk beforehand, you’d think that they’d try to kill each other, not dance around like fairies.
Andy Murray. If he wins, he’s British. If he loses, he’s Scottish. He moans when he strikes the ball either way. I thought it was only women who moaned during play. I call it Women’s Orgasmic Tennis, championed by the chief warrior Sabrina Williams herself. It’s so animalistic and sexual, don’t you think? All that grunting and groaning. Ugh!
What the hell have you got to do before you get disciplined for putting the opposing player off, strangle them at the net? It would be easy to disguise a yell or scream or shout within a moan or grunt or groan. Think of all the possible noises you could make. Agh!
Why are the celebrations always so emotional at the end? Talk about drama queens falling to the floor. Is it not rude to celebrate in front of your beaten opponent? And why shout ‘come on’ after you have won the point? Please, show some courage and shout it while the ball is still in play. Now that would impress me.
Have you seen the way the players point at the ball boys too? It looks so arrogant. And why do they bounce the ball so many times before serving it? What purpose does that repetitive bouncing actually serve?
Big tennis games look great on screen. The gasps of the crowd as the ball trickles along the net. Scrambling legs, drop shots, lobs and volleys. The drama is up there with penalty shoot outs in football and deciding frames in snooker. When you’re picking your own balls up in the park, however, hardly able to string a rally together, it’s a very different game indeed.
And please, Nadal’s biceps really aren’t that big.
It always rains when Wimbledon is on. Solution: Ban Tennis