Getting really pissed about tennis

I enjoy tennis:  playing it, watching it, talking about it. But maybe I'm changing, because Wimbledon is aggravating me in a major way. I can't watch, without groaning and rolling my eyes, grown men and women have ball boys and girls (who are just that:  boys and girls) thanklessly fetch and deliver tennis balls and sweat towels. In the past I have told myself that it's unreasonable to expect tennis players to thank the boys and girls who fetch their balls and towels each time the fetching is done. But saying thank you takes less time than it takes to first grab a towel, second wipe your face with it, and then finally toss the towel back to she from whom you originally snatched the towel—the thanking and sweat-wiping could be done concurrently. Maybe you're not the snatching type, in which case you're also not a professional tennis player. I have formerly exempted players from being considerate on the grounds that athletes are in some sort of hyper-focused "zone"—but if the players are concentrating so intently on the match that they can't appreciatively acknowledge the individual who brings them a towel soaked with sweat, then that level of concentration should also keep the players from noticing that sweat is collecting on their brow in the first place.

It's not as if the ball boys and girls are innocent orphans, although perhaps it would be better if they were—the ball boys and girls are young tennis players, and they likely aspire to become professional players of the sport themselves. And if they realize their aspirations, the ball boys and girls can become men and women who abuse younger versions of themselves. Not expressing gratitude is probably not actually abusive, but it is certainly annoying. I very rarely see restaurant or bar scenes on television or in movies that feature patrons who acknowledge the service they receive. And I see ingratitude in real life when I visit Aron at Starbucks. And I lived it when I worked at Taco Stand.

It occurs to me that several responses could invalidate my complaint about the ingratitude of professional tennis players (which is not to say that there's a shortage of examples of professional tennis players being extremely, shockingly ingracious—there is an abundance of bad examples). Perhaps so many nations are represented in professional tennis that it's at best simplistic (maybe it's even stupid) of me to suggest that all players should say thank you to the people who ensure the efficiency and fairness of a match—maybe there are cultural differences that would make another expression of appreciation more appropriate, not that I ever see anything resembling a gracious display (except the all too frequent nod to the sky, where God, who helped craft the greatness of the skywardly-effusive player, lives). Another possible response to my ingracious player complaint:  there may be rules in place at tennis tournaments that prohibit players from acting like self-sufficient adults. Maybe tournament rules specifically dictate that players not perform the simplest tasks—walking towards and picking up their own sweat towels—for themselves. If that's the case, then I'm disappointed in the sport and not just whoever happens to play it, and that still wouldn't explain the absence of appreciative displays. And finally, tennis players, like (practically all) other professional athletes are sponsored by companies (e.g. Nike) that make massive profits largely because their products are assembled in sweatshops by workers earning woefully inadequate wages, so can I reasonably expect participants to say thank you, and even if they did, would that really solve any of the true problems of the sport?

I heard Maria Sharapova—in one of those segments that ESPN orchestrates where a player's interview responses are made to seem profound because intense string instrument music plays behind them—say that everyone knows how much Wimbledon means to her. Because everyone is thinking about Maria Sharapova's thoughts.

We don't watch TV because we don't want Graham to watch TV, but Aron usually takes an hour nap with Graham when he gets home from school and/or work, and their hour in bed is what I refer to as my only hour. Sometimes I waste my only hour doing dishes, sometimes I waste it writing, and sometimes I spend it reading:  today I wasted it watching tennis and getting pissed. I've heard that getting pissed is slang for getting drunk, and I wish that were what I meant. It's for the sake of Graham's brain that we don't let him watch TV. It's for the sake of his decency that I won't let him watch professional tennis, or collegiate tennis for that matter.

Maybe it's silly to think that this is a tennis problem. I think Roland Barthes has a book about sports. If he thinks they're terrific I will change my mind accordingly. I really want Graham to want to play baseball.