A Match For The Ages

Here's something I bet you did not know: Rafael Nadal, like Phil Mickelson, is a natural righthander who plays lefty.

Legend has it that Nadal's uncle, Toni, decided early on that Rafa's two-handed backhand would benefit from a strong right arm, so he switched him.

Voila: a player who has won four French Open titles and, as of about an hour ago, his first Wimbledon.

(In case anyone is curious, Phat Phil played lefty because it allowed him to face his dad when they practiced on the driving range. As the father of an honest-to-God lefthander myself, I appreciate this very much. My son and I totally dig the fact that we can face each other on the range. Of course, my lefty comes by it honestly, so he's got that over Mickelson and Nadal. Plus, my kid is going to cure cancer and/or end the world's energy crisis. So there's that. I'm digressing.)

My point is, I sincerely hope that somebody -- anybody -- in this reading audience watched the Wimbledon men's final on Sunday, because it was not only the best tennis match I have ever seen, it was one of the best sports TV broadcasts I can remember. And in the year of Tiger vs. Rocco, that's saying something.

Look, I know that tennis is dead in this country. That's a damn shame, too, because I can clearly remember growing up with Sampras and Agassi and Becker and Courier and Chang and Seles and Sabatini (insert growling noise here) and Graf and about nine different Fernandezes; before that, there was Borg and McEnroe and Connors and Navratilova and Chrissy and Tracy Austin and I'm sure I'll remember ten more names later tonight.

Tennis used to matter. It used to be a pretty big deal, especially in my house, where my mom was an erstwhile weekend player and we gathered to watch Grand Slam finals all the time. Now, my wife is a serious player, so I watch, a little bit. My son likes to play, and he's lefthanded, and that's cool. But that's about it. Andre Agassi, one could argue, was the last successful professional tennis player who crossed over into American pop culture -- and his peak was 10 years ago.

Put it this way -- no matter how successful or how hot you may consider Maria Sharapova, Andy Roddick, Roger Federer, or any other current top pro to be, would ANY of them be invited to host 'Saturday Night Live?'

Never. And that's my point. In their day, you could make a case for McEnroe, Sampras, Agassi, Evert, and maybe Navratilova as potential hosts for 'SNL.' Tennis used to matter, and I kinda miss those days.

Which brings me to Sunday. I know that most of you didn't watch it, but dammit, I wish that you did. Because tennis is a pretty cool game -- it's easy to learn, easy to understand, rewards athleticism but also allows for craftiness, costs very little to take up, provides an excellent workout, and is generally democratic, which is more than we can say for the current salary structure of the NBA or Major League Baseball.

I've always said this about golf and tennis, two sports often unfairly connected to an elite, 'country club' lifestyle -- on the professional level, they are fair. Fair, in that you only get paid if you win. It's a purely performance-based living. Miss the cut at a PGA Tour event? Sorry, no money. Lose in the first round at Wimbledon? Sucks to be you. But show up for the NBA Draft, and you get guaranteed money. And that's pathetic.

But taking us back to Sunday, it was as good as sports television gets. Hell, it was as good as sports gets. Even if you care nothing about tennis, you would have loved the drama of Sunday's final. Those four-plus hours pretty much represent the reason why I got into this business in the first place.

You'll read post-match analysis ad infinitum, but here's what I will take away from Sunday: John McEnroe, a man hardly known for being soft, had to cut short his post-match interview with Roger Federer because he was starting to cry.

Johnny Mac, that is. Not Federer.

Does it get any better than that?

McEnroe said it best during the epic 5th set: "If this doesn't draw people into our great sport, nothing will." Indeed.

Great sport is where you find it. And great sport was found in the gloaming on Centre Court at Wimbledon on Sunday.