Archive for January, 2008

screech3.jpg     Tsonga came back to earth yesterday (today? damn you aussies!) and had to face the music, namely some shitty, Serbian, faux-dark horse music.  There is an ancient Serbian voodoo hex that will put whoever you wish under a spell.  This spell’s greatest powers makes your enemy afraid of approaching nets, and I don’t doubt for a minute that Screech (or the scary Srdan and Dijana) utilized this spell to overcome Tsonga.  Why did Tsonga abandon his beautiful volley game? He was definitely too tired to make that trip to the net, as for once the commentary wasn’t all Ali this and Ali that (they don’t know what a dark horse is and I bet you Tsonga’s parents-to-Screech’s sperm and egg donors they don’t know the phrase beating a dead horse), and Cahill pointed out that Tsonga’s footwork had disappeared.  The guy was just flat out tired.  At one point in the third set it looked like Tsonga decided he was just going to rally with Screech as everything he hit floated to the middle of the court.  He didn’t even come in for the DROPPA! until the third game of the first set.    Screech and his obnoxious/fugly family ordered Denny’s Grand Slam, 4-6, 6-4, 6-3, 7-6.

     One of the high points of the match (and my chub) was when one of Tsonga’s rockets hit the net, then flew over the baseline.  Tsonga lost the point but you don’t see that type of power everyday (unless you’re me and you/I own a mirror).  Tsonga, who routinely serves at 137 mph, smirked at one of Screech’s 125mph serves, as if to say, ain’t that cute. 

     The line judges and that idiotic chair umpire should all be dragged through the desert by kangaroos ridden by aboriginies for their shoddy calls throughout the game.  I don’t know if sideburns and hats with drapes ’cause you to make egregious errors during the most important match of a tournament, but I’ll definitely look into it. 

     Screech has been crying since he beat Federer that the fans haven’t had his back.  Well guess what, when you beat the world’s #1 player, then face a charismatic black dude from France you’re going to get some boos.  Aside from no longer being an underdog (I’m glad the Ozzy fans get that) you’ve morphed into some kind of douche nerd hybrid.  Whether that’s how we now perceive your antics because you’re winning, or whether you’ve been extra douchey because of your recent sucess is irrelevent.  The fact is you’re no longer adorable.  You’ve grown pubes (on your chest and ball area), you’re screechy voice is getting more bass (like Manratilova), and you’ve gotten your first zit.  Welcome to the shitty world of being an adult, where everyone hates you, and any attempts at being charming will only leave you with more enemies.  My advice to you is to keep your mouth shut.  We’ll find a new nick-name for you (as biters have stolen you’re current nick-name from me), relocate your family, and keep you safe.  It’ll pretty much be the witness protection program for douchey-nerd hybrids. 

     I’d be lying (as you already found out) if I told you I’d write through to the next Grand Slam.  Someone suggested Tennisburger write daily on his own tennis adventures which is quite possible.  If I flake on that, which is possible, and more importantly, probable I’ll see you all when the next Denny’s sponsored Grand Slam arrives.


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sharapova-banana.jpg     These words were mumbled by Dickberg after SharapovA drowned Ivanovic in a swimming pool converted into a tennis court, then converted back to a swimming pool, 7-5, 6-3.  Throughout the enitre tourne Popov didn’t lose her purse, her bread , her Sony Ericson (thanks guys) cell phone…oh and she didn’t lose a set either.  Have you ever licked your chops?  Do you even know what that means?  Neither do I, but usually sicko’s do it when they’re looking at little girls, or a wolf lick’s his chops when he’s staring at a pig, that kinda shit.  It basically means you’re horny for something.  Today I bought some new silverware and I got all horny on it.  I started saying shit like, “it’s got good weight.”  So yah, I was pretty damn horny for this match.  Could you imagine if I was being ironic, and I was actually trying to make a statement about how sexist tennis commentary is?  I’d be a total asshole!  Sharapova won an obscene 89% of her first serves.  To steal a cliche from a million other sports writers (God do those guys suck), it was Sharapova’s tourne.  She outplayed everyone she faced (and didn’t face).  To tell you the truth I wrote this last night, but I got so shit-faced (for Sharapova, of course) I wasn’t quite sure if I should post it.  But now the excitement is over and tennisburger has nothing else to say.

     Did I say I have nothing else to say?  The awards were presented on a giant, square trampoline   by the president (prime minister? kangaroo? dingo?) of Australia, Kevin Rudd (his website needs some serious tweeking).  After thanking G-Money (seriously, he did) he let Ivanovic take the stage, and I must say her speech totally destroyed Sharapova’s.  Popov seemed pretty artifical after hearing Ivanovic’s.  And is it mandatory to have to thank your sponsors?  I like that Sony Ericson is this person that Sharapova can thank, like, “I want to thank my dad, my coach, Sony Ericson, my mom…”. 

     Tsonga is the underdog (+206 for all you guys in gamblers anonymous) v. Screech (-210) tonight.  Screech has just gotten too big for his britches too quickly and I’d like to see Tsonga rearrange his face for him (I’d kill to know who said that, btw).  Like the old guy who I played tennis with today said, “He’s just a punk.”

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Dark Horse My Ass

     To all of you assholes who keep insisting that Screech is the dark horse of every goddamn tournament he enters, lick my balls.  Will you stop now?  Probably not since you were all proclaiming that he was a dark horse going into Ozzfest ranked #3 in the world (THAT MEANS THERE’S ONLY 2 PEOPLE CONSIDERED BETTER THAN HIM, YOU MORONS).  Maybe you say he’s a dark horse so it’ll look like you know what you’re talking about when he wins, like you had some sort of inside scoop.  The only inside scoop you were privy to was moving your eyeballs a 1/4 inch to the left of his name and seeing a huge number 3 next to it.  Am I pissed that Federer lost? Fuck yes I am.  I could’ve seen Tsonga with the best serve in the game versus Federer with the best return (he sure didn’t look like it against Screech though) in the game.  I guarantee you Tsonga is going to pull Screech limb from nerdy limb.  I’ve been wrong with every prediciton I’ve made so far (aside from Ivanovic v. Sharapova, but one was already in, and the other was going into the semi’s), so why not.  If Tsonga truly is the second coming of Monfils/God, I have no reason to think any different.  Nerds rejoice…for now.

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smoking_dat_bong.jpg     If you missed Tsonga v. RAFA! you missed the best tennis you will ever (not) witness.  With 17 aces, Tsonga’s serves were barely illegal.  Tsonga had 49 winners to Nadal’s 13, which is totally illegal (trust me).    Tsonga won 86% of his first serves compared to Nadal’s 56% (my abacus tells me that’s a 30% difference!).  RAFA! looked extremely lonely out there on the court in between serves, contiually looking at his box for non-abacus related answers.  I kept expecting him to stare off into the crowd ala Luciano Pavarotti and break out into some type of Spanish operatic histrionics.  But no, he did what all of us did, he stood there with mouth agape, not trying to understand, not trying to reason with it, just staring, like he was two of the best tits RAFA! had ever seen.  We all looked at Tsonga like we had just taken the biggest fucking crack hit to our domes.  Tsonga turned Bud Collins into a bigger crack-ho than he was before.  Tsonga, in effect, made us completely retarded for 2 hours.   Tsonga the Tsbonga’s fastest serve came barreling down towards RAFA!’s thong at 137.5 mph.   I really have nothing else to say, the fucking guy has me speechless (that’s 295 words speechless).  Tsonga smoked out RAFA!, 6-3, 6-2, 6-3.  To add insult to injury I heard RAFA! got bumped out of business class on his way home and had to ride economy.  Can’t you picture him totally bummed out sitting next to some obese Texas oil tycoon who doesn’t know who the hell he is.  “Soooo!  You say you play tennis.  Yup. My wife plays tennis.  Say, do you know my wife? Tits down to here, heh heh!  Hell son, you’re alright! Let me buy you a Labatt Blue!”

     Ivanovic somehow beat Hantuchova.  I’m still not really sure she did.  Looking at the stats, Hantuchova won that match.  Fuck it, no one reads this shit anyway.  Hantuchova won, let’s say, 0-6, 6-3, 6-4.  She faces Bud Collins in the women’s final.

     Williams update.  I finally found out what skinny had to say and I was right.  Pretty much no different than her sister:

      “I’ve been a champion and I have full expectations and aspirations to continue to play high-quality tennis and to continue to be a champion. Serena and I don’t have anything to prove.”

     I expect to continue to be a champion?  I don’t have anything to prove?   What the fuck are you talking about?  You lost, you’re both losers.  It’s come down to an issue of what you have to prove?  That’s it I’m through, I think I just had a heart attack.


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Screech is so homophobic he’s insisted on finishing off (that’s pretty gay right there) each of his opponents in straight sets. No gay sets for Screech. He’s one all 5 matches in straight sets. The only other player to do that is RAFA! (aka A.C. Slater). Me thinks Federer is mighty disappointed in one David Ferrer right about now. Screech avenged the nerds, 6-0, 6-3, 7-5. The last set saw Screech wheezing a bit (kinda like in that ‘sode where he had to wrestle that huge kid from the other school until Slater showed up to save Screech and spin him above his head), and losing some of his nerd-edge as he struggled to close out the man from those Mervyn’s ads. Right before match point, 6-5, someone from the crowd yelled at Screech, who yelled back, essentially telling him to shutup. He then launched one of the biggest serves of the tournament right down the line. Everyone went crazy, Screech spouted a thousand c’mons!. Then the camera cut to Ferrer who was picking his nose. Jesus Christ. In case you’re Pete, Screech faces the winner of Federer v. Blake which happens tonight, which you should be watching (Pete).

I don’t know what Belgium’s role in the cold war was (that’s the Floridian cold war I’m talkin’ about), I don’t know if Sharapova hates fancy chocolate, or what. Whatever it is, Sharapova definitely had her panties in a bunch, as my older, abusive brother Chad used to say. To horse-face’s credit, anything Sharapova c’mon’d her way, she was right there like a paparazzi on Brit’s vagina to snatch it up. It was seriously the closest match I’ve seen result in a goose egg. Henin was all over the court and it took Sharapova an extra shot or two or three to finish her off on almost every point. Sharapova, short on Elmers, sent Henin back to the stables, 6-4, 6-0. Pova v. Head in the semi’s (Pete).

I’ll give you zero guesses who said this:

“I’m not going to sit here and make excuses,” she added, refusing to specify what was wrong with her physically. “I lost because Jelena played better than me and I made too many errors. “I think regardless, the match was on my racket and I gave it away.”

So which one was it, dipshit? Did she play better than you, or did you give it away? You know what, that’s it. I want the rest of my shit back. I’m coming over to get my records, my Joe Matt comics that you never read, my Best American Sports Writing of the Century which I never read, and my letterman jacket. What a goddamn motherfucking travesty you’ve turned out to be. You fake so many injuries your trainer, Jill (yeah, unfortunately we know who you are) can’t keep up. When Shriver went to your box to get the scoop Jill told her she had no idea what it was. One minute you’re running around like a goddamn roadrunner on fire, the next minute you can’t lean over to grab your chocolate milk (why is everyone drinking chocolate fucking milk in Ozzy heat anyway?). You didn’t seem to have any problem getting to those DROPPA’S! late in the match, yet other times you were wincing like you were carrying the weight of Jankovic’s forehead on your back. There were shots that Forehead made that you couldn’t have gotten to, with or without your “injury”, yet you hobble after the ball when it passes you like you had a chocolate snowball’s chance in hell. Well it’s over, do you hear me? I wasn’t just in love with you, I lurved you as Woody once said, but now it’s all over.

Ivanovic celebrated MLK day much the same way Forehead did, beating skinny, 7-6, 6-4. I haven’t heard Venus’ excuse yet, but I’m sure it’s not much different than my ex’s. She faces Hantuchova in the semi’s. Looks like the finals will be Ivanovic v. Sharapova and my chub couldn’t be more excited.

Tsonga faces RAFA! tomorrow in the semi’s. Has anyone seen Monfils and Tsonga in the same place? The second coming? I’m just sayin’ is all.

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     I’m surprised that there hasn’t been one mention of the fact that Ivanovic practiced tennis in her homeland of Serbia in an empty swimming pool.  That would make some good commentary.  They could repeat it ad nauseum about how she overcame great odds to make it to the big show.  They could go on about how you couldn’t serve out wide, and how bombs were being dropped right on Ivanovic’s face as she played.  What’s even more amazing is that her opponent, Wozniacki, learned how to play swim in a tennis court filled up with water, in Denmark no less.  As she tried to dog-paddle, many of Denmark’s locals blew weed smoke in the toddler’s face making it difficult for her to get to the edge of the pool/court.  It just surprised me that no one has mentioned either of these two women’s struggles.  In the end it was Ivanovic’s storied past that overcame Wozniacki’s lack of a storied past as she blew by her golden locks (man were those gorgeous locks!), 6-1, 7-6.  Ivanovic faces the skinnier Williams sister with the big, clunky tennis shoes in the quarters.

     In Hewitt’s match versus Screech one of the commentators inaccurately pointed out that Hewitt’s sister was in the audeince, but it was obvious that it was actually Hewitt’s twin brother.  Did anyone see Kidman in the audience?  Is she taking retard shots from Hewitt’s wife?  The two of them look like they’ve had a lobotomy for crying out loud (note: you should never cry out loud).  Screech hit more lines in that match than all of your dad’s ex’s put together.   Screech bit the head off that Ozzy in straight sets, 7-5, 6-3, 6-3.  Federer cannot be happy with the possibility of facing Screech in the hallway.  Federer has been Screech’s Zach Morris long enough.  RAFA! (A.C. Slater) has been massaging Screech’s ego for a long time now, urging Screech to branch out on his own, be his own man, that type of shit.  Does this mean Venus is Lisa Turtle? Sharapova is Jessie Spano? Bud Collins is Mr. Belding?  Too bad there weren’t any ugly lesbos on that show or we’d have a full cast to work with here.

     Quickly,  Cilic got worked over by Blake’s sun screen super powers, 6-3, 6-4, 6-4.  Is this really Blake’s bracket? He’s definitely playing like it.  He’s also playing like he’s reading Tennisburger.   Federer worked Berdych over.  ESPN2 was torn between their plans of continuing to show every second of Federer and not airing a single second of Berdych.  Federer overacheived Berdych, 6-4, 7-6, 6-3.  Spain-on-Spain action saw the battle of the Ferrer(o)’s.  In the end Ferrer treated Ferrero like a Pedro Almodovar character, namely dressing him up in tights, applying lipstick to his lips and heaving his typewriter from the 3rd floor of the Vodafone arena into a dumpster, 7-5, 3-6, 6-4, 6-1.  And lastly, Petrova: out, Hantuchova: in (somehow.  She was down a set and 3-1 in the second).  Two posts in a 24 hour period: out. 

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     So much for getting high.  Unless you want to fight a losing battle with your eyelids, Tennisburger suggests you stay away from the hippie lettuce.  Not even Bud Collins’ shirts, and witty satire could keep my 300lb. eyelids from shutting down for the night.  I had to watch the last half of the fifth set on my dvr the next day, humiliated and defeated.  Tipsarevic started out the match against Federer as nervous/paranoid as I was, but after double-faulting a couple of times he got that first game under his belt and things started rolling.  Murray came out during breaks and squeegeed Tipsarevic’s glasses for him pro bono, which didn’t really help much cause Murray kept crying all over ’em.  I don’t care what anyone has to say about Federer’s nerves of steel, that man was nerv-fucking-ous.  On a few seperate occasions Tipsarevic took a few extra seconds to decide whether or not he’d make a challenge, and  a tear rolled down Federer’s cheek, pleading with the umpire to make him hurry-up.  I’m watching you Federer!  There’s only one way to explain a 6-1 whooping in the fourth set by Federer, he was nervous.  Mirka actually put down her 24k diamond cell phone in the middle of ordering a pork sandwich to find out what all the fuss was about.  In the end Federer was able to avenge the death of Alyona Ivanovna, 6-7, 7-6, 5-7, 6-1, 10-8.  He faces Berdych tonight in the round of 16.  If anyone can claim to have seen 2 seconds of Berdych play in this year’s Ozzfest I will bequeath to you my bletus.  You obviously watch more tennis than what is actually televised.

     Dirty dick Roddick had another premature exit, this time it was on the court.  I know Roddick has done a lot for the douchebag tennis movement, but there comes a time when you need to get off Grand Slam’s couch and clean some dishes or vacuum those crumbs under the coffee table or, at the very least, get your dirty La Coste polos off the ping pong table.  It was a tight match but the German sent Dirty Dick back to his frat house to watch Girls Gone Wild 6-4, 3-6, 7-6, 6-7, 8-6.  He’s facing Eminen in round of 16. 

     Yes, the same Eminen who answered my prayers and sent Mardy “who fucked up that birth certificate” Fish back to the ankle sock factory.  The match was as close as Fish’s socks are to his shins, 3-6, 7-6, 6-3, 6-1.  Fish’s whining sent a shock wave through the tennis world, rocking the tear ducts of Murray, whose tears moved Baghdatis.

     Yes, Baghdatis is the latest town crier who literally wept as he left the court after super Ozzy Leyton Hewitt outlasted the inevitable 5 setter.  Seriously has anyone played more tennis than these two?

     I know there’s a lot of tension between lower class blacks and muslims and the police (seriously, who doesn’t hate cops?  One will simply drive by me and instantly they make me feel like I forced their daughter into prostitution) in France but the match between Tsonga and Gasquet should teach all of France one important lesson, mainly that no one has to cry.  You can battle each other all day long, but at the end of the day your eyes should be dry.  Overcoming racism is a huge up hill battle, but we can stop tears from falling out of people’s eyes. Tsonga is seriously my mistress until Monfils/God gets back on his feet.  Tsonga’s baguette overpowered Gasquet’s backhand, 6-2, 6-7, 7-6, 6-3.  Tsonga faces Youzhny in the quarters.

     Mathieu: Cryer.  RAFA!: Non-cryer.  Result: RAFA! def. Mathieu under the categories of tennis and being a man, 6-4, 3-0(ret.).  I guess not all frenchmen can teach us the importance of keeping your eyes dry.

     Marin “barely legal” Cilic defeated Gonzalez and, uh oh, guess who he has to face?  Blake has yet to choke on his sun screen sandwich but something tells me Cilic may put on a chlinic (please tell me you get that one!) for Blake.

     I’m all over the women tonight.  I’ll give you my feedback as it comes. A-O!


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