It took me thirty years to figure out that tennis is as good as it gets for humans. After love, of course, and fulfilling work. But following that, tennis is the axis mundi, the bridge between this world and the next one, heaven or hell, sometimes both at once. You want to kiss the spiritual plane and at the same time brush your teeth with the gunge of human suffering? Try serve-and-volleying at 5-6 in a third-set tie-break with the sun in your eyes.
Latest GQ story finds me attempting to play in the US Open, with assistance from Grand Slam great Mats Wilander. How Old is Too Old to Win the U.S. Open?Aug 25, 2014
The pavilion was a flatland of several hundred young men, most of them wearing Class B uniforms—troop-issued t-shirts and green cargo shorts—stained from days of marching. The boys were exhausted. They wanted a patch of shade, a Coke, an unopened can of peaches. Mostly they wanted to find a good deal in the makeshift souk. Do you have the complete Marvel set? Any ghost patches? You got any ninjas?
From “Scout’s Honor,” my long-ass article in the Summer issue of the Oxford American, where I spend several days at the 18th national Scout jamboree. Readers who reach the end will know the meaning of Silver Surfer.Jun 11, 2014
Jun 10, 2014
"I love to drive," Stan Wawrinka said, gunning his borrowed Audi through a yellow light in downtown Miami. As of April, the 29-year-old is the third-best men’s tennis player on Earth, even if he hasn’t yet learned to act like it. Wawrinka doesn’t travel with much of an entourage – there’s no nutritionist on call, no hired hands to carry his luggage. He is Swiss; gracious, humble, and unassuming; the sort of guy who posts on Instagram, "A person who’s nice to you but not nice to the waiter is not a nice person."