wimbledon raze classic nick kyrgios: - kicks off the most important match of his career by playing the best, most focused tennis of his life. - wins the first set against one of the all-time greats (who happens to be a not-so-great human being, but whatever, nick's a dickstick too). - proceeds to melt down down as soon as he has to deal with any amount of adversity, starts screaming and swearing at everyone in the world, and all but hands the trophy to his opponent. as some wise soul said on twitter today, it was "like watching an only child being denied entry into a nightclub for three hours straight". if he ever makes it to a grand slam final again, i'll eat my own chest hair. knowing nick, he'll probably do the same thing. the women's final was a different story. elena rybakina had trouble finding her range in the first set. she didn't panic. she regrouped and blew ons jabeur off the court the rest of the way. braindead journalists have criticized her for "not showing enough emotion" after snagging what was once the most prestigious prize in tennis and demonstrating nothing but maturity and class in an impossible situation; she was born and raised in moscow, though she now plays for kazakhstan, and here she's just won a tournament that made a big show of banning russian and belarusian players. that was why her parents couldn't be there to support her. not that you would have heard it from elena. at her post-match press conference, she dodged every idiotic question designed to generate a controversial soundbite and said no one gets to choose where they're born. i guess this is the world we live in now. smashing your racket, abusing the officials, cheating, trying to injure your opponent, and being an all-around arrogant shit stain is celebrated and rewarded. showing poise under extreme pressure is considered an aberration and a sign of weakness. and they used to call it a "gentleman's sport". there's nothing gentle or admirable about shaming someone for being a decent human being when we have so few of those left. 220710 what's it to you? who go blather from