Australian: Tennis Largo(s)

A Story by Abishai100

How do sports showcase a languages for emerald forest brooch-dictionary?

A tale of sports 'dark-magic' drawn (loosely) from the tennis-sophistications artistry/life-lyrics of the offbeat film Wimbledon (Richard Loncraine) and featuring a fun/cool reference to an iconic 1995 Australian Open men's quarterfinal rivalry (American) tennis dodecahedron (Sampras-Courier) for pre-4th. Happy read,

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I was working as a private-detective at the Australian Open (men's tennis media event) of 20th-Century Earth-windows for competition cleats in the year 1995, as a Bostonian lawman visiting Melbourne for a very-special securities requisition for the fun Aussies for sports-media languages when I encountered a dimension-crossing time-traveler 'alien' for my social media age of lifestyle-linked social network interest/fiction (wow).

This time-traveler scared the living-daylights out of me, when he pronounced the claim that he resembled me, in many ways, as my younger (or older?) twin, since dimension-travel for his alien 'race' created some space-parallax transformation of the magical variety rendering him as potentially uniformly identical to an Earthling of my time/space, and I had to believe him. This alien called himself Ajay Satan, since he knew that I (Mr. Amlan Satan) was talked-about in the Aussie-circles as the Australian Open men's tennis quarterfinal media 'event' fast approached, in which the two American greats of future-story view (Pete Sampras and Jim Courier) would square-off to see which American would go further, making great Western 'diamonds' hyperbole for Earth's sportsmanship cleats (wow).

ALIEN (Mr. Ajay Satan): I come for the great Purge.
AMLAN (Me): What's it, bad-friend?
ALIEN: In the 21st-Century, NYC will be stricken; there shall be Purge.
AMLAN: What's it, bad-friend?
ALIEN: The Purge, fool...a capitalism race invisible veil for manmade anarchy!
AMLAN: So, you come pre-deed for this Aussie Courier-Sampras foil for Hell.
ALIEN: And you're my dimension-challenge 'twin' for the Heaven, fool.
AMLAN: Why Sampras-Courier, bad-friend?
ALIEN: Shall I spoil the fun, fool, for it's a potential 5-set return-dime (ha).
AMLAN: You already know the outcome(s)...perchance you're simply joking.
ALIEN: Damn...you're a self-net contest messenger, hero-detective (fine).
AMLAN: Farewell; seek exile, for I've afforded us a (snail-like) hygiene.
ALIEN: You're lucky (farewell), human (self like).

Friends, I saved that Aussie-tennis media image from anarchy, and Sampras fended-off a 2-set deficit to return with a 5-set epic comeback against fellow-American Courier, who equally showed true-grit for social media class. I persuaded our bad-alien friend ('Ajay Satan') that my line for network hygiene languages for defense/vanities created a perfect out-back 'cleats' for exiling of a quality bad kangaroo (sure).

Sampras was visibly shaken during his 5-set comeback with his early disturbing 2-set deficit created by consecutive tiebreak defeats at the hand-axe of Courier's relentless play, for which Jim recommended a game-cessation, and many Sampras fans (simply) wondered if Courier had acquired an 'unearned' vanity for his early-match fury. Well, they were both still fun Americans, and I saved-off any anarchist 'Purge' by the anti-net hands of this bad-alien friend ('Ajay Satan')...Facebook-like (ok).

BOSTON WAITRESS: Thanx for that '95 tennis American write, good friend.

ME: You're a fan of the Courier-Sampras show (rivalry), lady friend?

BOSTON WAITRESS: I find any gent charm-lined for patriot-fury (sure).

ME: Then we've lots to talk about...time, sport, cleats, eats, Americans (aliens).

Years later, I find myself married and happy and on a Homeland-Jersey hostel-station sports-writers' symposium stop (Inn-Express) where the concierge (Mr. John Torrence) insisted that his read for my '95 Sampras-Courier 'legend' (or map?) made for a very-special town-friendly line for Earthling hospitality helmets and sports-superstitions/magic romance between men and women (hmmm). I thought deeply-now of my alien-evildoer ('Mr. Ajay Satan') and what life for Aussies would've been should he have triumphed for his tennis-choke. I still wonder what Ajay meant by his 'Purge' (anarchy) doorbell...for Earth/homeland hostel-light (or fiction).