Australian Open Day 2: Never Give Up, Never Say Die

I was initially going to start robotically regurgitating all of the scores from yesterday, (which at this point you probably already know), but then I remembered that I am not a journo or an analyst, I am a blogger and more importantly, a fan. And therefore, although I want to keep you updated on who beat who, I also am going to bless you with my non-eloquent way of summing up the day in 3 words:   BALLS OUT TENNIS (not tennis balls, ok?)

You see, tennis is not about the numbers for me.  I could give a rat's ass if Rafael Nadal wins the "Serena Slam" or whatever you choose to call it, or if Roger Federer gets his number 17.  The only thing I have ever cared about is the blood, sweat, and tears that the players leave out on the court, and that is precisely why I root for the Ferrer's, the Rafa's and the Nalbandian's, because I am a never-give-up, never-say-die kind of girl.  I don't like double faults and excuses, which is maybe why I am more of an ATP fan than a WTA fan, although there are some ladies that could probably hang in a 5-setter with the best of them.  I like the players that, if this was the NFL, you'd give the ball to on a crucial 3rd down and 5, and you know they won't come up short, and if they do, they got a concussion trying.  

And that is why yesterday's match between Lleyton Hewitt and David Nalbandian was so awesome:  2 men, both 29 (which is like 75 in tennis years), who left their guts out on the tennis court for almost 5 hours.  And then to put the icing on the cake, Nalby wins with a fucking lob, a LOB!!!  Honestly, if I could crush up the giddiness, anguish, shock, and awe of matches like these and snort it, I would.

The numbers looked like this Nalbandian def. Hewitt, 3-6, 6-4, 3-6, 7-6 (7-1), 9-7.

But it really looked like this:

Tennis, you're my drug, and I promise to never quit you.