Of all the sports I watch, tennis is the only one I still play. In fact, after the first set of the "gentleman's" final at Wimbledon on Sunday I grabbed my racket and headed off to Holiday Park.
I felt like my neighbors, who always go see a movie the night of the Oscars. But I knew who was going to win, and I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
A few years ago you also knew who was going to win - Roger Federer - but it was a joy to behold. Compared to gracefully gliding Federer, creating impossible angles and spins, the other players look like workers, pummeling the ball shot after shot. Granted, Nadal takes this laborious approach to a new level, becoming, in effect, a miracle worker, but a worker nonetheless. He may surpass Federer in grand slam titles (though I doubt it, considering the toll on his body his take-no-prisoners style of tennis exacts), but he will never surpass him in beauty and grace. It's hard to imagine anyone will.
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