30 – 0: Dirty Love

by Nic Olson

Something happens when you try to play tennis north of 60. It just doesn’t seem to jive all that well. They should just stick with dogsledding, polar bear hunting, bare back buffalo riding and shoveling snow. It is like the Tennis Gods (McEnroe, Bjorg, Agassi, Graf, Sampras, Chang, Becker, I guess Federer and others) put a curse on the north so that anything awful happens when anything tennis related happens. By the way, you don’t have to be dead to be a Tennis God.

After a painful series of racquet breaks this summer, an even more painful inflation of the prices for stringing, many different people breaking the holiest of holys (a tennis date), and a poor satellite connection during some of the most important matches of history, I just can’t handle it. The NWT Open is this weekend, and my first match was tonight. Of course, the North of Sucks-ty Curse lays one on me, I get to work three hours later than I was supposed to, and miss my first match. Thanks to a person that is not from NWT, my match was rescheduled to tomorrow. Likely I’ll dislocate a shoulder or get a hernia tomorrow at work to prevent another regular-world tennis event.

If I’m lucky I will break this spell in two weeks time when I’m back in the world capital of tennis, Regina, and dominate once again…. or continue to let myself down to the level of Anna Kournikova. But she’s so hot.

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