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And I don't mean that in a bad way. The hideous fashion choices and corny reality tv show notwithstanding, I love Serena Williams; she's by far my favorite player on the tour - at least, when she's actually on the tour and not off somewhere trying to be fabulous.

So why do I like her and not Sharapova or Henin-Hardenne or some rising star? It's really pretty simple -- Serena Williams doesn't just try to beat you; she tries to beat the absolute mess out of you just to have the opportunity to scream and throw her fist at you in a way that makes you wonder if she'll hop across the net, snatch your racquet from your limp fingers, and abuse you with it.

Now, you can say she's just trying to encourage herself if ya want but the reality is that she's all about smashing her dominance all in your face and throwing in a "C'MON!!!!!!!" just to let you know that you just got owned. 

But to the topic at hand...

Serena Williams' success at the Australian Open is either making a complete joke of women's tennis or proving that if she'd train like her counterparts, she'd be the best player ever. It's not enough that Williams continues to wear a dress match after match that makes her look like Cole Trickle's Mello Yello car in Days of Thunder. That kinda of crazy attire is something we've come to expect. But the girl arrived in Melbourne looking like her strength and conditioning program centered around pounding double doubles in an In N' Out parking lot.

While things are decent enough from the waist up (I'd take her 6 days a week and twice on Sunday in an arm wrestling competition with the tournament's men), the astonishing enormity of her backside can't be captured without a wide-angle lens. And yet, somehow, it doesn't even matter! She just keeps beating people down with no retribution!

• 3rd round: Nadia Petrova, 5 seed, dispatched in three sets
  
• 4th round: Jelana Jankovic, 11 seed, beaten so bad she might need therapy
  
• Quarter-final: Shahar Peer, 16 seed, thought she could at least outlast Serena until Serena gave her the Heisman
  
• Semi-final: Nicole Vaidisova, 10 seed, never really had a chance after the first set even though Serena fell asleep for 4 games in the 2nd 

These women aren't just some of the best in the world, they're also completely absorbed by the game. They live and breathe it.. eating, training, practicing, and studying because their livelihoods depend on it... each week it's another city, another country, another event.

These girls bust their asses day in and out because maybe one day they'll win a slam or be ranked number one or simply win enough money to take care of their families for the rest of their lives. They're doing all they can to rise above and here comes Serena with her no. 81 ranking and shelf booty covered up in a Sprite can dress and just starts handing out justice!

You would think that, at the very least, these girls could hang in until the third set and Williams would tire out but that method doesn't even work. Sure, she gets into the occasional rally and her opponents force her to run sometimes but she's still fast enough to cover most of the court. And when she's too tired, she just smacks returns for winners and rails off an ace or two. It's crazy! The only hope girls have really had is to take advantage of Serena's mental vacations but, as the results show, she wakes up just in time to crush their silly dreams.

While the results at the Australian thus far say great things about Serena's mental toughness and talent, they also speak to a suddenly sad state of affairs for the women's game. Williams is overweight, injured, and not even playing all that well but all she really had to do was "get determined" and that was all she wrote. What's even more bizarre is it won't be remotely surprising if Williams beats Maria Shreikapova tomorrow night. But if that happens, she should just retire.

"Since I blew you all away on my Roscoe's Chicken n' Waffles diet, I think that's a sign that I should call it a career and expand my acting career beyond that scene in Law and Order: SVU.. you know.. just so you no-talent chumps can have a chance, too."

Serena over Shreikapova in 3 sets -- 3-6, 7-5, 6-4 -- while still wearing the Days of Thunder dress. 

I'm not fond of Rafael Nadal. It's not personal; I don't think he's a bad chap or anything. There are just a couple things about him that really grate at my nerves.

The first problem is his style of play. I like the power game. I like big serves. I like classic, hard-hitting strokes and rallies that end with winners or spectacular shots. I grew up on Becker and Sampras and stay entertained with Federer and Roddick. I'm an aggressive girl who likes aggressive displays in all sports and when it comes to tennis, those styled in the clay court mold don't fit into my entertainment plans.

And that's where Rafael Nadal comes in (or maybe, goes out). The King of Clay, though charismatic and emotional, is more like multi-directional Pong, forcing opponents to self-destruct while he runs from here to there to everywhere, returning missiles with huge, looping strokes, never quite allowing you to put him away - no matter what you do with the ball. If you want to get it past Nadal, you'd better hit an overhead that bounces into the stands right around row Z. Otherwise, he'll magically reach it and loop a return right back to you.

Granted, there's certainly a place in tennis for the motion machine that lunges, slashes, and employs any other action verb to keep a rally going and then rubs it in your face after you tire out. There's a place for the crafty player, the gutsy one, the one that does whatever he can to survive. And I respect that player. I respect Nadal. I just don't like watching it. 

His style aside, there's nothing of substance to dislike about the Mallorcan, but that's where my shallow, superficial nature enters the picture... The flowing, Vidal Sassoon locks that wave effortlessly in the breeze, the "look at my pulse" shirts, the Rebel at a Clambake getup... I can't hardly look at the bloke without shaking my head and wondering what boob told him all of that was a good idea. But I suppose you can't mock him for his appearance anymore than we did Agassi with his neon spandex and highlighted mullet back in the day. But ya know something, at least Agassi never pulled some shite like this:

Now, I know Nike is running a "Vamos Rafa" campaign but you don't put the slogan ON the apparel that the person wears in competition! Can you imagine if Michael Jordan had carried around a Gatorade water bottle that said "Be Like Mike" or if he put the phrase on his shoes? That's simply unacceptable. Save it for the commercials, posters, and print ads. Rafael Nadal is enough of a tool already... there's no reason for Nike to add insult to injury!

Luckily, it's all over, for this tournament, at least, as not even Winged Victory herself could see Nadal through last night. He went down in 4 sets to unseeded Russian, Mikhail Youzhny.

After winning the first set, Youzhny lost his grip on the match as Nadal evened matters and threatened to take the third set. There were fist pumps and emotional displays for all. The Spaniard held a 5-4, 40-love lead but squandered three set points, eventually losing a tiebreaker. Youzhny raced to a 5-0 lead before Nadal held serve in the fourth set. The Spaniard even had a break point in the next game, but Youzhny was not to be derailed and served out for the win.

If you'd like Nike to produce these beauts, sign the petition. After all, it is we, the movie loving public, that's getting the short end on this one... Think about all the silver screen shoes that you can walk in any store and buy -- Eddie Murphy's Adidas from Beverly Hills Cop. The Nike Cortez worn by Forrest Gump. Uma Thurman's Kill Bill Tigers. Rocky's Chuck Taylors. The list goes on and on. And when you're looking at movie sneakers, the Air McFlys are the only ones that were created for film and never worn beyond the silver screen.

That, boys and girls, is a shame.

**Update thanks to Al Cabino, founder of the Nike McFly effort.

So after taking in a bit of the Browns-Bears preseason game last night, we returned to watch what was supposed to be the final match of Andre Agassi's illustrious career.

Agassi and Marcos Baghdatis - a cheerful goofball that was the runner-up at this year's Australian Open and a semifinalist at Wimbledon - quickly settled into a rhythm of hard-hitting baseline exchanges. Though the play was sublime, knowing that we could reasonably leave, engage in random shenanigans, and return 2-3 hours later when the drama was at its peak made for a restless crowd. As such, some were eager to head back out while a few of us wanted to stay.

So in an effort to appease all present, we created a drinking game based on Andre Agassi's situation and John McEnroe's random comments. By the time the second set began, it was immediately obvious that this could be trouble...

One Shot of Beer:

• Anyone mentions any variation on the word "retire"
• John McEnroe mentions Agassi's age (36)
• Take 2 extra shots if McEnroe notes that Agassi is "playing/moving like a (fill in younger age here) year old!"
• John McEnroe mentions Agassi's bad back and/or litany of ailments and treatments
• Take 2 extra shots if this happens in the same context as a discussion about his age
• Camera pans to a pained, worried Steffi Graf
• If she is actually smiling when this happens, pound your beer
• Agassi hits a return of serve for a winner
• A random spectator voices his/her love for Agassi (or other supportive comments)
• Any mention of Agassi's mullet days
• Everyone must shout, "IMAGE IS EVERYTHING!" when this occurs
• Opponent hits a drop shot and Agassi makes an annoyed groan sound on his run to the ball
• Agassi blows a break point

Two Shots of Liquor:

• Agassi loses his serve
• Tiebreaker!
• McEnroe implores either player to challenge the official line call with the "Hawk Eye" system
• An extra shot if player loses challenge because the ball fuzz happened to clip the line in the graphic
• McEnroe crushes on the Hawk Eye system, using it just to show how close the ball was to the line
• An extra shot if McEnroe feigns surprise when he is wrong about the call
  

Pound A Beer

• USA runs Maria Sharapova's "I Feel Pretty" Nike commercial
• This is good for 6-8 beers for a 4 hour match
• McEnroe mancrushes on Agassi's career
• This is subjective but once someone starts drinking, all must
• Any reference to the final US Open runs of Jimmy Connors or Pete Sampras
• The words "fairy tale run" or "storybook ending" - if used in the same context as a Connors or Sampras mention, disregard
• Injury timeout
• Agassi bows and blows kisses to the crowd

If you didn't get a chance to watch the match last night, try to catch a repeat on USA, as the highlights on SportsCenter don't do proper justice. It transitioned from good match to classic over the course of four hours and was capped by a magical fifth set rivaling any that have been played in recent years.

As for the game's success, we were all in a really bad way by match's end but if I'm completely straightened out by the time we fly to Atlanta in a few hours, that should mark the full recovery time at right around 12 hours. But if I can get through the morning without Boss noticing that I'm all jacked up, I consider this a win. I'll recover on the plane.

In any case, there are 5 rounds left to play but how long Agassi lasts is anyone's guess. It's being reported that he'll likely run over his next opponent, Benjamin Becker (no relation to Boris), to set up a Labor Day match against Andy Roddick in the Round of 16... with Jimmy Connors now acting as Roddick's coach, it should be another great one.

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In related news, check out the Wade Blogs for the Top 10 Andre Agassi Commercials 

This has been a rough season for Andy Roddick, the tennis star whose mojo may very well have offed itself during the US Open last year. And though the victories that once came naturally to America's best are now more elusive, Roddick hasn't let that get him down. He relaxes and keeps more trivial matters on the brain...

Like the man purse.

Now, I know anyone who took a picture like this has little right to take a stand on anything relating to masculinity but according to his personal website, Andy Roddick is an enemy of two things --one is Kevin Federline, who he nominates as "butthead of the week" because it was supposedly inevitable. The second is the above-mentioned European carryall (or manbag, as I prefer), an item made famous by a man-fur wearing Jerry Seinfeld in the episode, "The Reverse Peephole."

Apparently, Roddick has noticed the troubling, growing trend amongst men on the streets of London and is justifiably lashing out. Chelsea's Jose Mourinho and England's faux skipper/hood ornament/metrosexual David Beckham are infamous carriers of the item, preferring a purse made by Louis Vuitton. Boxer Lennox Lewis also carries a manbag but I am content in believing that he's carrying around boxing gloves and shoes in there on the offchance that he gets into a rumble on the streets.

"Anything bigger than a money clip or a wallet is to be left to your girlfriend/wife...and just so we are clear you should not be able to throw your 'wallet' over a shoulder...if you have a man purse, the wall is waiting," said Roddick.

I don't know what "the wall" is but I'm sure it's an appropriate punishment for carriers of the manpurse. I'm not a fan of this bag and I don't see how any self-respecting woman can be... how do you stay with a man that is willing to trade his masculinity to carry one around? I'm terribly vexed by that. Now, I'm sure there are people out there thinking, "well, he's secure in his masculinity!" That's bollocks. "Secure in his masculinity" is a phrase coined by some naive woman who was trying to explain away her metrosexual boyfriend's behavior to her girlfriends at lunch and I'm not buying it.

My man only needs a pocket and that pocket must only be big enough to hold one thing: money. Combs, sunglasses, and fashion accessories are not apart of the game here. If I can get by with carrying a debit card, a tube of chapstick, and my cell phone, I expect men to do with less. Is there something for me to carry? You'd better put that stuff in the car or bring your backpack!

So bravo to you, Andy Roddick, for standing up for what is right. Having said that, thumbs down yet again for posing for a picture like this. I don't care how old you were, the flame it's generating is strong enough to cancel out the minor feelings of attraction that I had after reading your obnoxious, anti-manbag stance... like you care.

Rafael Nadal was on choke artist duty Saturday but unfortunately for opponent and French hope Paul-Henri Mathieu, it wasn't fatigue or a lack of mental toughness that affected the defending French Open champion.

It was a piece of banana. 

"I took a little bit of a banana. It slipped through the mouth sideways. I don't know what happened but it suddenly stayed stuck halfway through," a bemused Nadal said pointing to his neck.

Serving for the third set at 5-4 and 15-all, the Spaniard ran off the court and motioned to the umpire for the trainer. The move drew loud whistles and jeers from the largely French crowd, as they believed he ran off the court in a dodgy attempt to slow his opponent's momentum. But appearances were the least of Nadal's concerns, as he was not about to let a piece of fruit scupper his quest to chalk up a 56th consecutive victory on clay.

"It's not that I couldn't breathe but I did feel a very strange sensation."

Welcome to the world of deep throating, Raffy. It's a crazy feeling when you can still breathe but know that something just ain't right. Soon enough, you're in a panic and all your fine work has gone to pot. I've been there, mate, and no matter what the French are saying about you right now, I commend you for taking swift action.

I'll be honest, when you stroked and slid your way to a fascinating victory over Mariano Puerta last year, I assumed you knew what you were doing when it came to topics like this. Can you blame me? You and your flowing Vidal Sassoon locks looked like you were on your way to a clambake; by the time you hoisted the Coupe des Mousquetaires, I could practically smell the penis on your breath. So please forgive my surprise at your troubles but rest assured, this banana problem is nothing a little practice can't fix:

A banana can be eaten quickly when biting off 2 or 3 inches at a time but I have a strong feeling that you're not a nibbler. In fact, you're a man on the go who goes big or goes home, but being that type of bloke doesn't mean you have to put yourself in danger! 

The average length of your oral cavity is between 3 and 3.5 inches while the average length of a ripe banana is beween 6 and 6.5 inches. For those following along at home, that's twice the size.

In a situation like this, your biggest obstacle to taking all of the banana at once is the nearly 90 degree bend behind your tongue that leads down into your throat. As a result, you'll need to consider the angle that you're holding the banana to make sure it agrees with the natural downward angle of your throat. No shoving in sideways when taking big bites - that just won't do. Once the banana is in, relax your jaw and throat muscles as much as possible. If it's a struggle, try yawning.. it helps things along. After that, all you need do is swallow. The banana will slide right down, enabling you to get back on the court within the 90 seconds allotted for changeovers.

In all seriousness, Nadal was up 5-4 and needed to win the game to take a 2-1 set lead; taking a break in the middle of what is arguably the most crucial game of the match was a dick move. I don't doubt that the Mallorcan had a piece of banana lodged in his throat -- it's too ridiculous a thing for a person to make up. But Nadal freely admits to taking the medical timeout for no other reason than his failing concentration and fear that he'd lost momentum. He wasn't choking nor was he struggling to breathe. He was simply inconvenienced. And when his opponent started picking up steam, Nadal pussed out and called the trainer for a momentum-stopping 3 minute medical timeout. 

Though his actions were within the rules, they were bush league and I (unrealistically) hope his flamey pirate ass gets smoked by Lleyton Hewitt in the quarterfinals tomorrow.