wake me up when it’s match point

Went to the US Open with Sister Alyson and Daddy John Monday night. Like all the sporting events I’ve been to this year, it WENT ON WAY TO LONG. I’ve had it up to here with these balanced competitors. What I wouldn’t give for a quick brutal slaying of the opponent and a chance to be snuggled in my warm bed a mere two hours later.

Professional tennis is a lot stupider than many other sporting events. Because it’s just about two players, the game breeds divas like no other. For example, there are more than a dozen people judging, cleaning, and recording one little court with two players. I became so fascinated by these serfs serving their tennis lords, I took count of them:
Players – 2
Judge on a high chair – 1
Line officials (sole job: stare at a white line to see which side the ball lands on and hope that the back up computer doesn’t prove you wrong a moment later) – 7
Boom op – 1
Camera ops – 2
Security guards – 2
VIPs, or people with no discernable purpose – 6
Number of serfs that get to sit for the entire match – 8
Number of chairs given to each player – 2


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