(Ed. note - to all parties interested in the recent discussion on junior development at Nick Bollettieri's academy [see two previous posts]: the Glodjo's have posted a lengthy comment under the Holiday Tableau item (12:50 PM) that may be of interest to you. It was unsolicited, and much appreciated - PB)
Well, yesterday's post almost got me fired. James Martin, our Editor-in-Chief here at the mother ship, Tennis, fired off this indignant email - with the ominous subject line, Disappointed, to me this morning:
Looks like no shoes and cold porridge for Luke for Christmas.
With the holiday bearing down on us, I'm finding it hard to focus on hardcore tennis issues, and I don't want to go negative, so I'll just refer you to the truly bizarre ruling in the case involved the Williams sisters reneging on a deal to play in a Battle of the Sexes event. Main point: I'm sure the lawyers for the aggrieved promoters are working on a contingency fee basis, so I don't think we've hard the last of this yet - not by a long shot.
I suppose we're all about to break up and go our separate ways for the holidays. Lisa, Cowboy Luke and I will be going to the farm in game-rich Andes, on the outlaw side of the Hudson, tonight. On Christmas Eve, we're going over to the proper side, where my sister, Susan, has a place in the horse country near Rhinebeck. Then we're back in Andes until Thursday or Friday of next week. This period will be Christmas break. I've ordered Steggy not to work under any circumstances, which means she'll ignore me and keep things running as she sees fit. I'll call her to say "Hi" and ask what she's doing and she'll reply: Guess what? Temes got into it this morning with Samantha, and Ray and Ros have been resurrecting the GOAT story. . .Briks (Fake Birkenstocks) and I have just re-designed the blog, and Andrew has completed a statistical survey demonstrating that Lars Bergsmuller has the best winner-to-error ratio in second round matches in non-Grand Slam events on the men's tour. . . when do you want to run it?
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That girl. . .
Please talking amongst yourselves. The next week should be an off-topic bonanza. Some of you will need plenty of support from the Tribe, because you know how emotional those family holidays - especially protracted ones - can get: My brother said the guy I'm dating is real loser, but the up side is that there's a better chance that Brad Pitt will leave Angelina for me than of the boyfriend proposing, Waaaaahhhh. . . My girlfriend came to Christmas dinner and to watch the football game, but she threw a shoe at the TV and my mother asked her to leave! So be there for each other. If you need counseling, you know where to find it.
Meanwhile, we'll be working if not necessarily posting on a backlog of material, including the long-deferred Man or Metrosexual? quiz, the Tribe website, selecting the winner of TennisWorld's First Annual Armadillo Poetry Slam (TWAAPS),and some year-end honors and awards. Did I mention that on the day before New Year's, we'll ask each of you to post his or her best drinking story (preview: Steggy's involves a rather lengthy, teary apology to a holly bush)? Then, after the New Year, we'll roll up the sleeves and start wrenching on the game and ATP and WTA players again.
For now, though, why not post the gifts you would buy for your favorite comment posters? Steggy is getting Serena Willliam's derriere, and six pairs of plush, white socks - in addition to her official present, a Spa Day (she's gotten the gift certificate already, just like Red Ayme).
If you don't hear from me before, have a great holiday. I'm a Christian, so the Christmas narrative has special meaning and power for me. Baby Jesus was born on a bed of straw in a manger, warmed by the breath of donkeys and oxen. I'll be thinking about that during the orgy of present exchanges and food coma to come, in heated homes with loaded tables and festively decorated windows and rooms. I love the smell of hay and the warmth of a horse's neck.
Go Santa!