The old-pro exhibition tour hit town last night. McEnroe v Lendl and Sampras v Courier (aka I've never heard of him - Anne Taylor)
Only as we walked to our courtside seats we realized there was no court. Apparently the truck driver had gone MIA and the court had just arrived.
Also at least one of our courtside seats did not exist. As there was no court our missing folding chair had a lower priority.
To pass time the guy from the Tennis Channel (me too, who knew?) did a Q&A with Courier which made Anne none the wiser. Her only addition was that Courier looked like first-class prick Phil Simms. I made a joke about the shitty font Courier but it fell on deaf ears. Boston's premier typographic comedian fails again.
Then Sampras and Johnny Mac were wheeled out. No Lendl. Commie bastard!
Some kids asked questions and were kind of dick-ish to Sampras asking him about his inability to win the French Open.
Putting a court together takes about an hour, but because this was a union gig they took two hours. If I wanted to hang out with overweight people in dungarees I'd buy a Subaru.
When the tennis finally began a confused and muttering McEnroe beat a middle-aged bigger-bellied Lendl. Mac is great on TV but up close he resembles an old man in robe and slippers mumbling to the help about his liquid only diet.
Pistol Pete shot down the other guy with noticeably faster strokes and then finished off Mac in the final.
We walked home and were tucked up in bed just after midnight. Another Friday night of rock n roll.