Nobody asked me, but … (#21)
John McEnroe called it the best match he’s ever seen. Sports anchors everywhere today are leading with, or at least giving lots of airtime to, the Wimbledon final between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. They’re calling it a classic, and, in fact, ESPN Classic is re-airing it today as an oxymoronic Instant Classic. Even as a non-fan of tennis, I found myself transfixed by this competition, as the momentum seemed to go back and forth, each player giving his best, yet still capable of making many unforced errors (a tennis term that is rather blunt, though accurate). I shared the sentiment of the Centre Court crowd, hoping that it would continue on, and recognizing that not only Nadal, but all who watched were indeed winners.
Federer was gracious in defeat, even after winning the last five titles at Wimbledon, and Nadal was appreciative and respectful of his opponent. You can think of many sports where that certainly is not the case. Through some mysterious ranking system, Federer will remain number one today, even though Nadal has defeated him in two straight Grand Slam events. Has the torch been passed? Perhaps. But Federer is still only 26 (Nadal is 22), so he is hardly past his prime.
I watched this telecast for the same reason that I watched the Williams sisters in their match a day earlier - it’s a newsworthy sports event that is large enough to capture the attention of general sports fans. In both cases, I had no real favorite going in, but I found myself rooting for Federer yesterday. I don’t know why, although perhaps subconsciously I knew that he and I share the same birthday (a fact that I just discovered while looking up his age for the prior paragraph).
But it’s cool that Nadal won on a surface that he has previously struggled on, and it makes for quite a year for the country of Spain - Nadal’s championships in the French Open and Wimbledon, Sergio Garcia’s triumph at The Players Championship, and the Spanish soccer team (oops, footballers) winning the Euro 2008 title last month. Better watch out for the Spaniards in the Olympics. But remember … Francisco Franco is still dead.
Back to tennis. At one point, I was trying to explain the scoring system of tennis, but had no answer to “why” it goes 15-30-40-game. I’ve heard that the use of “love” for zero comes from the French word for egg, but why is the third point worth less than either of the first two, and how many points exactly does it take to win a game - 50? 60? A quick Google search turns up this, from answerbag.com:
The origins are not fully known, but one common explanation was that when the game was first being played back in medieval times, a clock face was used on court. The clock hand would move a quarter for each point. When the hand moved to sixty, the game was over. Therefore, the scoring would be love, 15, 30, 45, and 60 instead of the traditional 0, 1, 2, 3, and 4. Whoever scored 60 (4 points) first would win the game. However, instead of using “zero” the word “love” was used. Since, the word “love” comes from the French word l’oeuf, meaning egg which symbolizes nothing, it is assumed that “love” was used because it is represents zero. Another explanation for the use of the word “love” is because the egg looks like a zero. Eventually, the 45 was shortened to 40, and people quit saying 60 altogether. Interestingly, while the English mispronounced l’oeuf as love, the French eventually changed back to using zero, while the English kept “love”. The term “love” also implies that someone who plays and scores zero points must truly love the game.
Do you buy that? It’s as reasonable an explanation as any other, I suppose. In the end, though, all that matters is that, whatever the scoring system and whatever the rules, through almost five hours of play and three rain delays, two players put on quite a show yesterday.
Oh, and the Yankees-Red Sox game last night wasn’t half bad either!
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