Sport

I love sports. I love to ski, and to fish, and to play tennis; but that's not what I'm talking about when I say I love sports — I mean spectator sports: seventy thousand people filling Yankee Stadium and screaming at Joe Dimaggio, I mean a nation glued to the radio late at night, my sister and I eavesdropping from the top of the stairs, as Joe Louis pummels Max Schmelling, the whole world paying attention, I mean hundreds of millions of people transfixed in front of their TV as Michael Jordon, aging, wounded, goes up for the winning J as time runs down.

I love who good writing about sports is swiftly immortalized; while good writing about theology, cosmology, homeostasis, information, kleptocracy ... must pass a gauntlet of pummeling morons: elders opposed by nature to improved theories, unwilling to pass hypotheses that make them nervous: elders from church, from universities, publishing houses, network executives, answerable to pharmaceutical companies, to big tobacco, to Chrysler and GM ... to the BOD, to the alumni ...

The screaming about Babe Ruth was encouraged once it passed a certain number of decibels. The screaming about Josh Gibson was muffled before it ever approached those decibels. Still, despite Gibson, despite Cassius Clay getting persecuted as Muhammad Ali, what I love about sports is, spectator sports, is thatSports are where the society actually allows the map to sort of fit the territory; unlike politics, business, religion ... the competition is sort of fair, the playing field is sort of level, the judges are sort of honest ... The rules actually make some effort at clarity ...

---

Today's sports news has an unusual item: Serena was playing Kim Clijsters in a semi-final at the US Open. I cite what I just emailed my son, bk:Serena vs in the US semi
Serena already had a warning, abusing her racket against the post.
In match game against her, she faults, then throws in a foot fault, bring up match point against her. So she screams and threatens the line judge. The line judge does according to the theoretical instructions, report the abuse to the umpire --every one had heard it, but the ump isn't allowed to officialy hear it till it comes through chanels, and the ump awards a penalty point to the receiver. and Clijsters wins the match.

a warning plus a penalty = a point against.

Serena said that foot faults hadn't been called against her all season. Note she didn't say that she hadn't foot faulted. You can't win at that level if you don't almost foot fault, sometimes actually foot faulting.

I was in Madison Sq Garden decades back, Rod Laver playing.
A foot fault was called against the Rocket at an important point late in the match.

Rod spoke up, was heard in the back rows. Oh, no, Shut up, Rod, I thought.
But Rocket said, "How many of those have you called tonight, Ref?"
and the place roared. with delight.
Rocket resumed serving, and won, of course.

Serena offered to shove the ball down the lineswoman's throat.
Tennis would be a different game if official Tennis had penalized Jimmy Connors or John Mac by suspending them when they were still 14 years old.

And really socking it to them when they were "adult" pros.

The great Jack Krammer was announcing radio for a big match decades ago, Mac or someone was carrying on, and Krammer's cohort in the booth said too bad these punks don't have smooth tempers like you, Jack, and Kramer said, No, no, he had a terrible temper.
Huh? We never saw it.
Jack said, Maybe you never saw, because past age 12 I was careful to hide it.
He'd been having a tantrum on court. The officials were indulging him, not exercising the rules. His father came down from the stands, approached the umpire. The umpire announced the match for Krammer's opponent: Jack's own corner, his own FATHER! volunteered him as DisQ!