Deuce Juice


Down down down.
Love 15.
Love 30.
Love 40.

Back against the fence.
Then a gift.
15 forty.

Free swinging winner.
Cross court.
30 forty.

Need a big first serve.
Got the ace.
40 forty.

That's some deuce juice.
Get it to even.
Deuce juice.
Keep on believing.

Now its all tied.
Looked em in the eye.
Bout to let it fly.
Bout to make em cry.

Then I dropped a drop.
Like I was taught.
Heavy and dead.
Ad in.

Time to pronate.
Deep knees.
High toss.
Inside out.
Line was caught.

Winner, winner.
Taco dinner.
Dripping deuce juice.
Dripping, dripping.

A Recognizable And Distinct Gesture

 
     The bird gesture is so universal, one clear meaning worldwide.  Regardless of technique, the middle finger is known.  On the other had, the peace sign seems the same as the victory sign, or the literal #2, as if a point guard were calling out a play.  Close the peace sign fingers together, flip up the thumb and you naturally have the guns up sign.  Texas Tech, I think.  But, back to the bird for a moment, the hysteria it can cause, the rage from where it comes, the full double bird.  My father, a tough man, once endangered his family by trying to run a trucker off the road for flipping him the bird.  He wanted him to pull over and fight.  This went on for 20 miles, at 80 MPH, passenger window down, my father leaning over my mother and screaming at the alarmed trucker through her open window.  He was not pulling over for his beating from this crazed man.  My mother was surprisingly calm, my youngest older brother was ready for action, and I was observing the insanity, completely involved.  Eventually, things cooled, the trucker sped ahead, no doubt regretting shooting that particular bird, and we pulled over for gas and snacks.  "The bird must be the worst thing in the world," I thought.

    I've never given my father the bird, but it has become my favorite gesture to use for net tape points won while playing certain tennis opponents.  The 'excuse me' wave gesture always seemed insincere.  In fact, most can't even look their opponent in the eyes when performing this sham gesture.  There is no truth in it.  Also, why not the gestures when the tape shots don't dribble over?  When they are rejected back at the player who hit the shot, disappointment and woe is real and tragic.  Perhaps there is a statistic regarding % of tape shots won.  It is a skill at which certain players are likely superior due to topspin spin rates or net clearance ratios or contact point.  Or all three.  Nevertheless, it is odd.  If we really all wanna be apologizers on the court, go all in.  Double down.  Apologize for winning the racquet toss.  "Sorry, guess I'll serve."  Apologize for an ace.  "Gosh, I really smashed that, fully extended, optimum torque angle, boom.  Sorry, bet that surprised you.  Big point too.  Aww man.  Bummer."

     If tennis is a game of matches, determined by sets, determined by games, determined by points, then all points are appropriate for celebration.  This is nothing more than math, keep the hurt feelings on the other side of the fence.  Perhaps the bird, or double bird, is too provoking for effective use on the tennis court, but the birds have their place somewhere.  As with most things, selective and modest use is best.

     For Vantaggio, the peace sign seems a natural fit.  No other Tennis Apparel Company has an official gesture.  To make it a recognizable and distinct gesture needed for the differentiation, the functionality, and the persistence worthy of the Vantaggio brand, perhaps the Double V should be considered.  Double down.  The familiar peace-like gesture with the two fingers, palm facing out with the second V formed overhead by the forearm, elbow, and flexed bicep.  Think of it.  The Double V.  Marketing gold.  T-shirts, logos.  Deodorant companies everywhere would line up.  Magazine covers everywhere of winners sporting the brand through this Vantaggio gesture.  Endured.  Overcame.

     Finally, be careful to whom you shoot the bird.  Its passive acceptance should never be assumed.  And further, if you're going there, amplify it with its twin, the double bird.  Look them in the eye while gesturing.  Double down.  That's Vantaggio!

*Vantaggio Tennis Apparel Company has expressed 'concern and alarm' regarding use of any bird gesture on the tennis court.

The Complete Obsession With Opponent Destruction

 
     The old shall rise again.  For those who think 36 is old.  Consider Roger Federer, the oldest man, at 36, to earn the #1 tennis singles ranking.  The next oldest was Andre Agassi at 33.  No fluking that, no fleeting summoning of old glory, no joke.  He has come back to dominate his sport for an extended time, winning 3 of the last 5 grand slam titles, demonstrating his excellence, sportsmanship, emotional steadiness, and fluid grit.  His reaction time advantage still intact, it has always been the foundation of his game, allowing for the trademark extension of his form.  The fully mastered backhand, the active feet, the timeless serve.  Once, long ago it seems, Fed was put out to pasture by some.  Even then he was widely acknowledged as the best ever.  But pastures aren't for Roger Federer, he will gallop away one day, no fences, no gates.  The best ever, for sure.

     Surely, Serena Williams is his tennis icon soulmate.  The sport is fortunate, these icons are worthy of admiration on many levels, especially the complete obsession with opponent destruction.  Physically, mentally, strategically, absolutely.  In all ways they are destroyed.  On all surfaces the icons have prevailed.  Hemispheres, continents, indoors, or out.  They have been grand, slamming the doors, overcoming, enduring.  And, they are both so fly, so Vantaggio.  Mommy Serena will be #1 again, and daddy Fed could hold on to the top spot til he's 40.  Or beyond.

     Less about them, more about the opponent.  Maximizing their own games, sure, but also minimizing the games of their opponents.  Serena's glare, Roger's tactics, Serena's hammer, Roger's one-hander, Serena's class, Roger's class.  High class tennis killers.  Even in defeat, the class shines.  And even defeat is not wasted by either.  It is captured and used to fuel the complete obsession with opponent destruction.  Yes, Roger and Serena, the King and the Queen of all the courts.

Between Hippie And Preppie


     Somewhere between hippie and preppie.  No pastels, of course.  Ever.  Pastels have no pop.  They have no place in tennis.  Prints should be banned.  No prints.  Multiple logo placements, multiple logo sizes, multiple logo colors.  Androgynous bias, with functionality and styles.  Reasonable fits, slenders have no room.  Only tights should be tight.  Inhibiting the extention needed to play true tennis is a tennis apparel crime.  Minimize the cotton.  It is a fundamental fabric, but only appropriate as part of a blend.  100% cotten or the ridiculous combed cotten are also not appropriate.

     Inevitably, shoes will be developed.  Make them durable.  That's it, durable.  The rubber and the upper.  Leather has been rendered obsolete.  It is a nice development for the cows.  They would much rather their skins become couches or automobile bucket seats or motorcycle club jackets.  Either way, like racquet grips, leather is no longer needed for tennis shoes.  Shoe color is a matter of personal preference, which can and should, be varied.  Dark or light.  Bright or dull.  Narrow or wide.  No pastels.

      Thermal wear should be very smooth looking, appropriate for any occasion, versatile and effective in a number of conditions.  Chills, winds, mists, and rains.  High quality zippers and tie strings that never recoil.  Collars are cool and an opportunity for innovation and distinction.  Again, any design interfering with the technical or athletic requirements of the player is fatally flawed.  Functionality at the bottom of any pant is important, and go deep on the pockets.  Yes, the pockets must be deep.  Deep enough to hold many balls. On both sides.  Drills, efficiency, etc.

     Marketing should be constant and focused, all channels coordinated, interconnected and similar, persuing multiple creative avenues of apparel opportunities.  Rowing teams, table tennis, sponsorships, customized event attire.  Deliberate and recurring re-evaluation/adjustment  process must be scheduled early on.  Incremental changes over time.  Nothing, nothing is sacred.  Disciplined and illuminated communications.  Candid.  An offensive strategy to maximize and diversify tennis league enjoyment should be deployed quickly.  Utilizing all methods of cultural influence to inspire the ovarall mission of the brand.  Music, literature, art, dance, and glowface.  Clean, easy, obsessed.

     Roger Federer, the best.  A true slammer.  20 slams so far.  Impossible backhand, easy easy easy.  The king of the down under.  Internal disgust of mistakes, they are never accepted, only endured.  So Vantaggio.

This Potential Madness


     Clearly, the chronic perceived potential of American male tennis professionals will be smashed by the reality of their awful and pitiful collective outcomes in 2018.  Sure, millions of dollars will be won by them, and a few will earn their way into the top 50.  A few.  But no one will be a major, or even minor, threat for a grand slam title.  Not since Andy Roddick's 2003's U.S. Open glory has an American male won a grand slam singles title.  15 years, a wasted generation, a failure of the USTA micro-culture, a shame.  Watching the 2017 Laver Cup illuminated some of the problems.  Strikingly different from the American female players, the men are uninspired and, frankly, a bit goofy.  But, why?
 
     Certainly Isner epitomizes the era, no evolution, so golly gee, so beatable.  And, seemingly, fine with it.  It is true that the meek shall inherit the earth, but they will have no grand slam titles.  These days, when an American male makes it deep into a grand slam bracket, it is always a surprise.  The names are familiar, and somewhat accomplished.  Stevie Johnson, perhaps the grittiest American male player, is easily the most decorated college player ever.  Sam Querry, the first American male to play in a grand slam semifinal in over a decade in last year's Wimbledon tournament, holds the all-time record for consecutive aces with 10.  Of course, Isner's 2010 Wimbledon first round match with Nicolas Mahut is legendary.  A match that took 3 days, over 11 hours of court time, and featured 223 total aces.  Isner won 6-4, 3-6, 6-7, 7-6, 70-68.  He lost in the 2nd round to Dutchman Thiemo de Bakker 0-6, 3-6, 2-6 in 74 minutes.  Quietly, Isner was forced to withdraw from the doubles bracket that year due to a blister on his toe.  Surely, his partner Querry was supportive and felt bad for "Big John".  Jack Sock, the current top ranked American at #9 in the world, is the current yankee king, but he's never made a grand slam Quarterfinal and his elbow likely wont have a long career considering his extreme whiplash forehand motion.  Ryan Harrison's 93-129 decade career match record indicates no real potential.  Donald Young peaked in 2012 with a world ranking of 38 before going on a 17 match losing streak that he's never completely recovered from.  In his 14 year career, he has never won a ATP singles title of any kind.

     The perpetual next generation, who knows?  Jared Donaldson, who I personally watched get destroyed by Argentine Maximo Gonzalez just last year in Houston, once beat Belgian David Goffin in 2016.  Frances Tiafoe, the third highest ranked teenager in the top 100, has lost 29 of his first 38 professional matches.  Taylor Fritz, already married with a family at 20, could develop quickly.  He's got good bloodlines, his mother Kathy May was a world top 10 player in the late 70s.  Perhaps some of her American female mojo will help destroy whatever virus has infected the men and Taylor will break through.  However, speculation just feeds into the chronic perceived potential narrative of American professional men's singles.  Do something!  As the U.S. tennis public, we should be able to reflect back with pride, remember the highlights, revel in the victories.  But there are none.  And it will be no different in 2018.  Thankfully, the always sobering Australian Open ends this 'potential' madness every year.  They are what they are.  And I don't know why.

**If either would agree to do it, Serena or Venus Williams should be the next Davis Cup Coach.  Something must change.