Final Countdown (CC)

Mornin', everyone. This will be another brief one,  because I'd like to get out to the National Tennis Center and watch the two American boys, Denis Kudla and the amusingly named Jack Sock, battle it out for the U.S. junior title. Only one of them (Kudla) was seeded in the boys' singles event (albeit in a lowly, No. 10 position), so this tournament has been a real triumph for the young American men and—I hope—an omen for the future. We all know how quickly boys can become men, and how quickly things can change in tennis.

Other than that, I imagine Novak Djokovic spent most of last night on his sore knees, praying for rain—wait, it's Rafa with the sore knees, right? Well, he probably whiled away his discretionary time studying the level overcast over New York, hoping the sun might punch through at 3:59 P.M. I'm calling for rain; I'd like to see Rafa try to earn his career Grand Slam on a level playing field.

It's been a long two weeks, filled with plenty of color and excitement, and I'm about fried, so I think I'll just ease on out to the NTC, get comfortable, watch a little tennis, and hope I have enough gas left in the tank to produce a decent piece on the men's final, although I may be unable to resist the temptation of the boys' final. We'll see.

Thanks for having been around these weeks. A writer has one goal that supersedes all others: to be read. Earlier in my life, I didn't care much about attracting or pleasing readers—I wrote, like so many youngsters, for "myself," for the pleasure and challenge of it. For—eek!—the "art" of it. I now think of that as having been a terrible mistake, even if it was a victimless crime. Wanting to please readers is not a base or cynical act (unless you make it so). It's a compass by which to find the way out of the interior woods. I don't know of anyone who wrote for "himself" who wasn't secretly or even obviously dying inside, hungering to be read, acknowledged and appreciated. I'm read now, and generally appreciated, for which I owe y'all a hefty thanks.

-- Pete