Haters, it's humid in Florida. I don't know how John Isner, Venus Williams, Ryan Harrison and all those pros who train here do it. They must work out at midnight.
Mark and I played this morning at 7:00 AM with plenty of clouds blocking the sun, and we were still sopping wet within 15 minutes. Maybe it was all the up-and-back Mark put me through.
The name of Mark's game is Change-Up. He'll hit a flat, hard serve wide, then spin a short one into the box. He'll pull you in with a drop shot, then lob you. He has no qualms chipping and sinking and pushing his shots as long as it makes you miss. His go-to strategy on my service returns is to lob over my partner's head, giving me a high backhand shot to miss. All day long.
Mark was working the yo-yo -- the human one, me -- this morning, pushing me deep into the deuce court, then making me scramble toward the net with a drop shot. Love you, too, honey.
I don't know why I expect Mark to go easy on me. Maybe he needs to stop holding doors open for me or doing the laundry. It softens me up for the kill on the court.
He either overwhelmed me with pace or caught me off balance with drop shots today. He was beating me, 3-1, when we went into a sweat delay. Too much moisture on the court.
Mark: 1. Me: 0.
Haters, if you play long enough, you, too, can win a game against your spouse! Mark's serve wilted in the Florida heat like...well, like a New Yorker fresh off the plane at Tampa International Airport, I started laying the ball in on my serves nice and soft and slow (yes, honey, two can play the Change-Up Game), and I beat him, 7-5.
Suddenly, he seems like a really nice guy, somebody I could spend the rest of my life with.