east village idiot

I’m coming to you live from Flushing Meadows (as I write this) to provide you with updates on the night’s festivities (only to post them to a blog when I have Internet access after a long trip back on the 7 train).

- The judge just introduced Serena Williams as “Venus Williams.” Same difference to him, I guess. I guess he didn’t recognize Serena without her denim skirt. Denim: form and function! Especially in athletic events!

- They’re constantly showing celebrities in attendance on the jumbotron, along with an accompanying song. Last week, it was “Margaritaville” for Jimmy Buffett. First off tonight, it was “Fly Me to The Moon” for Tony Bennett. But just now… “What Is Love” by Haddaway, followed by an appearance by Chris Kattan on the screen. He laughed, and hid his face in horror. I don’t know if he’s more embarrassed to be pointed out in a crowd or associated with that song.

- Would it kill the powers that be to have some English-speaking judges in this tournament? I mean, seriously. Ad-van-tage. It’s not a hard word. For crying out loud, three of the four majors are played in English-speaking countries!

- I wonder if any C-List Celebrity can show up at the U.S. Open and end up on the Jumbotron. Look! Judd Nelson’s here! Someone play “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds!

- I have a serious gripe: the security people at the U.S. Open have no respect for the game at all. At Knicks and Rangers games, I am forced to hold outside the seating areas until there is a stoppage in play. This is respectful, as it prevents fans from having their views obstructed by people taking bathroom breaks. Here, I was literally just forced into my section by security staff in the middle of a game. I’m not here to enjoy the view, assholes. I couldn’t even see the court from where I was waiting!

- Thinking further, I would imagine that most of these U.S. Open Security Staff are Rent-a-cops. They’ve probably been hired for a two-week-long event for a reason.

- Henin defeats Williams. Time for a break and a milkshake.

- At $7.00 for a milkshake, this damn well better be the best milkshake I’ve ever had!

- Okay, it was. They got lucky.

- Nadal-Ferrer starts now. Two Spaniards face off. A man in the crowd just shouted, “OLE!”

- The stadium is playing Latin music between games. LATIN music. Shakira, from Colombia. Ricky Martin, from Puerto Rico. These guys are Spanish. I bet Miss Teen South Carolina finds nothing wrong with this.

- The same goes for most U.S. Americans.

- This has been bothering me for over a year and I need to get it off my chest: I am convinced that Rafael Nadal and Chloe from 24 were separated at birth. I will prove this with a visual aid when I get home:

(a valiant effort, I think.)

- The judge in this match has such a thick accent that he can’t even pronounce the number “thirty.” He’s been saying “tsirty” for the whole match. It’s pretty funny. I keep cracking up every time a player has a score with a three in it.

- Come to think of it, are judges even necessary anymore? We know the rules of the game, and the computers are doing all the work now. The guy behind us said the judge sounds like Stephen Hawking, which gives me an idea. Maybe we should just let a laptop computer call the whole game from the chair. You can’t argue with a computer. Then again, a McEnroe-type could climb up and smash the laptop to bits.

- It’s almost midnight and I’m going home. Some would argue that real tennis fans would stay all night for this match. If this is true, I would argue that real tennis fans don’t have jobs.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 5th, 2007 at 1:10 am and is filed under Sports. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.