Racquet Wars

I watched the French Open Finals this morning. I'm often amazed and amused that fans of football, basketball, hockey, soccer, baseball, cricket, golf and maybe rugby  have no idea what the French Open contests. A gourmet chef cookoff, maybe? Oh, no. It must be a warm up race for the big bike race in the mountains thing. No, The French Open is where they play tennis in the dirt.

Today would have been a good day for a novice fan to tune in. The tennis game is evolving into a rough and tumble arena battle that might have earned its way into Rome's Coliseum. If you saw the final match today, you're getting my drift. What happened to the polite skinny kids who whine and quit if they chip a toenail.  They were not out there today. Who are these guys?

 The Argentenian Mariano Puerta recently had his knuckles wrapped for steroid use. He has a neck like a pit bull and thighs that took a whole roll of tape to wrap. Peggy was pretending not to notice.

His opponent? Rafael Nadal of Mallorca. This guy looks like a cross between Tarzan and Junior Seau. And he moves like Junior. He has arms like Shannon Sharpe.  Even the commentators left their tender talk to equate his appearance and play to that of a linebacker. Picture Bill Romanowski with a racket in his hand. Scary.  The guy plays tennis in "pedal pushers" but no one is making fun of him. I think from this point on a lot of tough guys are going to be shopping for slacks in the Women's Department at Nordstroms.

There was no need to "mic" these guys like the NFL does these days. You could hear their masculine groans clear out on the Champs Elyse. That's another thing that's changed about Tennis if you haven't been around it for a while.  It's noisy.

Monica Celes really got it going in her prime. She would reach down on each shot and pull up this blood curdling scream, sort of a "high C" without resonance. She used the high tense vowel EEEE, like in "teeth."  In time other women followed suit with variations on the EEEE.

But the guys, with their thicker laryngi, have been shooting for a more masculine grunt. They sound very much like shot putters or hammer throwers at the moment of release. Today's warriors make very distinct vocal vibrations.  Puerta's aural emanations are of the EEHHH variety, like as in "Head." It is a little grating to those of us listening, and I'm guessing to his own reception as well.

Nadal on the other hand is likely preserving  some energy by using the mid-lingual position producing the far less stressful noise AAHH. Doctor's ask us to say AAHH because it's relaxing, opens the throat and allows respiration to take place with ease.

These guys are all over the place on the court, moving laterally, horizontally, vertically. They dive for balls with no concern for their safety. Let's grab a cliche here. "They are leaving nothing on the court."  

This is no "Androcles and the Lion" match. These guys don't kiss and make up. Someone has to be victorious. And no one votes. On this day Rafael Nadal holds the cup high and plants a kiss on  the Spanish King. I'm no professional tennis analyst, but I think I know what gave Nadal the edge.  

 If we could vote?  All those in favor of Puerta say EEHHH. All those in favor of Nadal say AAHHH. Alright then, the AAAHH's have it.

A mumble heard from Puerta, "Back to the weight room." Response from Nadal? "See you there."