Top men at the U.S. Open are Djokovic, who assumes he’s getting booed when the fans chant his opponent’s name; Tsitsipas, who is getting booed for taking long bathroom breaks; Medvedev, who was booed the last time the Open had fans; and Zverev, who’s been accused by an ex-girlfriend of domestic abuse.
Watching the Marlins beat the Nationals last night in the bottom of the 10th with a walk-off single got me thinking about two things. One, the adjective "walk-off" is not really appropriate, because these days even a last-place team like the Marlins does just the opposite after the winning run crosses the plate: players linger on the field jumping, hugging, and dousing one another with liquids. Two, celebrating your first victory in nine games as if you just won the World Series seems a bit like the Major League equivalent of every kid who plays getting a trophy.
The disconnect in the closing ceremonies for me was Johnny Weir, a man who wears the most outrageous outfits yet delivers the most banal comments. I'd prefer if it were the reverse.
New Jersey - where I lived for the first 18 years of my life - and Florida - where I've lived for the last 32 - are having a pretty good Olympics.
Just as the athletes miss hearing the fans, I miss hearing the Russian national anthem.
Tennis had some nice moments in Tokyo, but they were perhaps overshadowed by the greatest player in the world, Novak Djokovic, flaming out with a tantrum – tossing one racket into the stands, smashing another against the net post – followed by a default in mixed doubles (guaranteeing he would go home without a medal), and the singles gold medal going to a man, Alexander Zverev, who for the last year has played under the cloud of domestic abuse accusations.