forcing Russell and Matthew Rhys (both spectacular) to shuttle between multiple spy operations with enough time manipulation to make Santa Claus jealous,
forcing Russell and Matthew Rhys (both spectacular) to shuttle between multiple spy operations with enough time manipulation to make Santa Claus jealous,
Tootsie came out in 1982, so the characters on the show could potentially be aware of it. Has it ever been referenced on the show before? Because it would be hilarious if it was playing on TV or something while Philip was affixing one of his horrible wigs.
I don’t know that it says anything about the state of US men’s tennis but I definitely think it’s hilarious.
Just wait until his car insurance comes up for renewal.
Hey Giri, are you going to Miami after this? Love the court side reporting
Giri, I was planning on bugging you for why you haven’t got a “Sam Querrey is becoming a thing” post up yet, but I can see you’ve been busy with weightier matters.
The client was from Toronto. This story just posted yesterday:
It is absolutely appropriate that Search for the New Land is prominently displayed in that stack of discs in pic because the title track is amazing.
Tersely-upset-about-losing Djokovic is the best Djokovic.
I definitely support the creation of more nerdy baseball-like stats for tennis.
I remember that graphic and I think you’re bang on.
That 26-shot rally was spectacular and the point of the match. Half way through it looks like Fed has set up a clear winner after containing Rafa to his backhand side. But Rafa being Rafa, he runs it down and the point carries on.
Idiots.
Toronto
Ya, I don’t get it either, but it is the story that Djoker has stuck with. I read the same thing in a first-person account he did for Men’s Health magazine or some other a couple of years ago.
Bobrovsky! Pick up you badge and gun, you’re back on the case.
Tennis is back, people! There’s nothing like the Aussie tournaments in January to remind me that the world will not in fact be a frozen wasteland forever.
The final fault lies with the New Yorker’s editor, who let such overly wordy run-on sentences make it to “print.”
For example, what if the end zone were 12 yards deep? Not 10, not 15 (because that would be too much), but 12! What if we give offense jusssssst a bit more breathing room down there, so that you don’t have to watch your team throw two consecutive shitty fade routes and then get stoned at the one on third down?
Arf arf arf