The Wimbledon Wierdo: Let’s Play the Game of Love!
“We are going to Wimbledon” I announced.
“We are already in Wimbledon” my DW responded. Do you get the feeling that your DW or darling wife doesn’t understand you? I do. And I know I am not alone in feeling so, though very few will have the courage to admit. Love is not just blind, it is also dumb!
“I mean we are going to All England Club where they hold the famous and the oldest tennis tournament in the world.”
“Oh! I understood, you don’t have to explain so much. Are you taking me to the centre court?”
“Wait here. Let me take your snap outside this court.”
“Oh wow! You took this snap?”
“You look like a European!”
“Oh shut up! I have been watching tennis and some things about tennis have always puzzled me.”
“Like?”
“Like why do they call ‘love’ when there is no score?”
“I think people all over the world have always projected the lover as a defeated person. Don’t you remember ‘Devdas?’ This aspect the British must have officially recognised by calling ‘love’ when the player has no score.”
“And why do they call the third point ‘forty’ when logically it should have been forty-five, coming sequentially after fifteen and thirty.”
“Oh! Don’t ask me why. I can explain ‘how’ the sun shines, with the helium-hydrogen chakkar, but not ‘why’ the sun shines. And I can’t explain why the score is called forty. That’s the rule! That’s the management policy! It has no reason!!!”
“I knew you won’t know. Ok. I think ‘forty’ rhymes so well with ‘thirty.’”
“You mean there is poetry to it?”
“You said there is ‘love’ to it! So poetry will go well.”
“Hmmm….”
“You know what? You should never fall in love with a tennis player.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“And never in love with a table tennis player.”
“This is getting interesting…”
“And never ever in love with a badminton player!”
“Now, now! What are you saying?”
“Obviously to them love means zero. That has implications you see…..”
Vivek
What the deuce !