On Wimbledon, 2008, and the 24-hour disappearance of the Louisville football program

In case you missed the 4 a.m. press conference on ION, CardChronicle.com has declared Monday, July 7 "Louisville Football Doesn't Exist Day." Supporters of the gridiron Cards are encouraged to not talk, read or write about the program until 5 a.m. Tuesday morning. Participants are also being asked to control their thoughts as much as possible. We've got two months to say all the things that need to be said, but right now I think the best move for all of us would be to just sit the next 24 hours out .

My tennis career began in the summer of 1995 and ended in the spring of the next year.

Inspired by some ambitious family friends and the swelling Sampras/Agassi phenomenon, I began to take some shoddy weekly lessons, and was subsequently deemed a perfectly pedestrian ball striker. I played in actual matches for my school that winter and was again showered with unanimously tepid reviews. An 0-for-3 performance in a Little League game that spring, followed by an accusation that an adulterous athletic swing was at the heart of my one-game slump, and my dream of becoming the next Jeff Tarango instantly flatlined.

While my active relationships with several other sports lasted much longer, it's still probably tennis that speaks to my soul more than any game this side of fly swatting (it is the way I play it). I'm competitive to a fault and have never been praised for my ability to work with others, so a sport where your personal performance against one other individual is the sole determinant of the winner and the loser is a gig I want in on.

All this is a big lead-in to a statement that still makes several of my friends cringe and hope no one they know sees us socializing: I love Wimbledon.

There is no summer event I look forward to more than the dual two-week tournaments at the All England Club in London.

I'm generally not particularly fond of snotty or "modern bourgeois" culture, but for whatever reason I find the white garb, the strawberries and cream, and the multitude of potted plants all very agreeable. Maybe it's my inner-being searching for some semblance of balance with the beautiful brutality of football peering around the corner. I don't know. 

I do know that when I saw that DirecTV and ESPN had teamed up to bring viewers a free Wimbledon All-Access package that would show up to seven live matches at the same time, I nearly strawberry and creamed my pants (I simply can't help it, and it was going so well, too). For the past 14 days I've been lucky enough to follow what has to be considered one of the most memorable Grand Slams of all-time.

Consider the storylines:

--The Williams sisters not dropping a set before facing each other in the finals, and then rolling to a relatively easy doubles title that same night.

--American men continuing to suck at tennis and come off as whiny and mentally weak.

--Ana Ivanovic not handling the pressure of being named the new world's No. 1 AND moving up to No. 3 on my celebrity crush list very well, nearly falling in the second round before getting hammered by No. 133 Zheng Jie, who later becomes the first Wild Card and the first player from China to ever make a Grand Slam semifinal.

--Janko Tipsarevic continuing to be undeniably insane and awesome at the same time.

--My man Marat Safin reliving his glory days and knocking out Novak Djokovic on his way to the semis.

--Maria Sharapova continuing to confuse people by getting bounced in the second round.

--The posh British crowd rallying around a brash Scot who just two years ago said "anyone but England" when asked who he'd be cheering for at the World Cup.

--Andy Murray's totally out-of-his league girlfriend immediately vaulting him to Lyle Lovett status.

--Maria Kirilenko being hot.

And then there was yesterday.

Fresh off a solid four hours of sleep I rolled out of bed at 8:45, dedicated to taking in each shot of a match everyone knew had the potential to be a classic. I was greeted by no Cheerios, a rain delay, and word that I could have snoozed for at least an extra hour.

I watched with caffeine-enhanced wide eyes as perennial Centre Court maid of honor Rafael Nadal dipped, bent and angled his way to three breaks and a two set lead over a man who last lost on grass when nobody had any idea what the hell an iPod was. But Federer not going down in straight sets was the biggest lock in the history of sports, even if he couldn't figure out a way to pull out a game off serve.

A second rain delay and an increasingly healthy blood stream had me quickly fading. I spent much of the fourth set rocking the "it's too early and I'm sitting in the front row head bob" for the first time since the fall of '04. But the fourth set tie-break was enough to make Charlie Rose jump out of his chair and let loose a, "holy shit." Put simply, it was the best and most exciting stretch of tennis I've ever seen.

And that was it. It was over. Nadal had made his point and next year's tournament was almost certainly going to serve as his coronation, but the day was going to belong to the five-time defending champ, the guy who was 24 points away from catching Borg, the man whose serve seemingly jumped 30 mph on key points, and the legend who had just ripped a backhand passing shot down the line on Championship Point like getting everyone invested in the match was a joke he'd been carefully crafting for the last three hours.

Nadal breaking Federer in the 15th game of the fifth set and then closing things out on serve ranks just behind George Mason/Connecticut on my "OK that was fun, but you had your chance and now here comes the inevitably expected finish" miscalculations list (I still think Denim Brown's shot is going to go in).

Not only was this the best match of my lifetime, but I think it will eventually prove to be the most significant. Federer is going to win more Grand Slams, break Sampras's record, and perhaps go down as the greatest to ever play the game, but the era of "good lord, how can a single person be so much better than everyone else in the world at this one thing" died in London on Sunday night.

A truly remarkable spectacle. And if that wasn't enough, everything about the 20 minutes or so after the match was awesome too.

Rafa climbing up to the player's box and then over to the Royal Box: awesome. It being so dark that flashbulbs were literally lighting up the players' faces during the awards ceremony: awesome. Both guys seeming genuinely humble and likable: awesome. Federer trying to come to grips with the loss and looking like he'd just found out 1 + 1 = 3: not awesome, but definitely compelling.

One of the most important traits a person can have, I think, is the ability to accurately recognize those times when he or she is especially happy, lucky or fortunate, and, in turn, be appropriately grateful.

Sunday's match was just one of a striking number of must-see events that we as sports fans have been privy to over the past six months, and for that we must be grateful.

A quick review:

SUPER BOWL XLII

The biggest upset in the history of professional football, and a game that was decided in the final seconds.

MEMPHIS VS. KANSAS

A very solid tournament capped by the best championship game in recent memory. I'm not certain that the level of play was favorably comparable to UNC/Illinois in '05 or Duke/UConn in '99, but "Mario's Miracle" is without a doubt the most memorable championship moment since Chris Webber's ill-fated timeout.

U.S. Open Playoff

Say what you will about the U.S. Open's choice of a playoff, but it produced perhaps the most exciting single day of golf ever, and one of, if not the, pinnacle moments of the Tiger Woods era.

CELTICS/LAKERS

It won't go down as one of the best finals series ever, but interest was much higher than it had been in years, and the Celtics' 24-point comeback in game four is a memory that will last.

FRESNO STATE WINS CWS

Destined to go down as one of the most overlooked achievements in the history of sports. The Bulldogs entered the postseason with a record of 37-27, and received the lowest possible seed of four. This is the equivalent of a 13-16 seed winning the NCAA Tournament in basketball. Remember that George Mason, which lost in the national semifinals, was an 11-seed.

EURO CUP

Admittedly, my enjoyment of soccer doesn't extend far past the fact that it's a sport I can follow while writing or dozing (the announcer's inflection always lets you know when to look up), but I always try to give it a shot since the rest of the world seems to be somewhat interested. Even if you hate the game or still have no grasp on why the whistle blows when it does, you would have had no choice but to have been entertained by any of the matches that Turkey took part in. Spaniards kind of running shit right now, aren't they?

MISCELLANEOUS

--Olympics start in August. The Dara Torres story is only going to get more intense. And we have a basketball team that I might not be forced to actively root against.
--Brett Favre's retirement saga.
--The most highly-touted NBA Draft class in some time.
--Cubbies chasing first World Series in exactly 100 years.
--Yankee Stadium's swan song.
--Tim Tebow's quest to become the second two-time Heisman Trophy winner ever.

Now is a good time.

Thanks for nothing, BCS.