MphsBlues
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Last time I went to the US Open, I bought a morning ticket, and then when the morning session ended and they funneled everybody out (so they could make sure you bought an evening session ticket), I just snuck -- snuck me and the girl that was with me* -- down to this bar on like the concourse level of Ashe Stadium and we ordered food and drinks and just sat there watching the match on the Louie Armstrong court until the second session fired back up and people started coming back in.
Then I snuck both of us down to way way way better seats for about 30 minutes and watched Djokovic whup up on James Blake. This was 2010, so Djoker wasn't quite yet in dominant form, but he was still a big name. And James Blake can't hit a backhand to save himself. It's embarassing. My backhand is better than his. That isn't hyperbole at all. My backhand is actually a good bit better than his. How he ever made it to 4 in the world is beyond me. Nevermind...not it's not. That was the really weak tweener era where Lleyton Hewitt and Roddick were the two best players in the world. Okay, that makes sense now.
All of this sneaking in pales in comparison to when I snuck in the player's lounge when I was 17 and sat down next to Anna Kournikova. That was definitely my best effort.
*Hold your criticism. I still got laid.
LMAO!! Very nice. The time I got press passes, the guy from the radio station that I was writing for actually asked me which sessions I would like to go to. Knowing there was no way I could get to all of the sessions, I answered "ALL of them." I got em, too. Wifey got to watch tennis to her heart's content.
*related cause it got me laid, as well
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