Tennis for Anyone

A Story by Abishai100

Fictional narrative of Selfie-culture inspired sports/competition 'eye' for undistracted social arena adjective for things...defined.

An offbeat-psyche champagne-note to that unforgettable women's tennis legend/map of the 'iconic' Graf-Seles rivalry (with no specific citation of any actual Seles/Graf interview languages or relations-record/history/fan-post).

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It was that darn 1992 French Open women's final between once-dominant Graf (Germany) and upstart-shocker turned equal/rival Seles (Yugoslavia) that transformed me into a vampire-stalker for Seles activity/languages. Graf was the darling-trophy girl of Germany, and it signaled a restorations of that part of the universe to the social network 'consciousness' following the 'globe-stigmata' fallout from the fall of Nazi Germany in 1945 (sure). I cheered Graf like a real democrat, seeing how she carried the real weight of Selfie-fanfare sports chat(s) culture for the human network transcending the political net, but Seles destroyed that celebrity-gossip for Earth's cleats (damn!). I became a vampire, determined to track Seles all over the Internet, reading every darn interview and collecting JPGs like a fool, like a Selfie-citizen of black/white reading faces.

Just imagine if there was no Seles (ever!). Graf would've become the Maradona/Pele or Michael Jordan or Babe Ruth or Wayne Gretzky of sports-linked political Rationalism for this emerged Selfie/human net of faces and chat(s). No, it didn't happen, because that Goliath-like Graf, like our American Homeland Tom Brady (Patriots), was finally equaled (in every respect!) by the 'touchdown-excellent' Seles of Yugoslavia (darn). This was Selfie-like (and fiction-weighted!).

I got myself any tennis video-game I could get my deformed hands on, and I knew synthesis of Seles-Graf play in my 'consciousness' would yield a 'chaos' theory for all things sportsmanship and superstition, for Earthling's helmet (darn). Well, I decided (eventually) to give-up my unusual 'crusade' for tennis superstitions and Selfie-chat(s) and am (now!) writing this re-telling of this secret 'obsession' in a time-capsule I'm burying in the backyard of my suburbia-typical (Echelon!) home (for the Ego!).

I'm not wrong. This was a real crusade, and it reflected my special 'examination' of my Selfie age of incomplete-distances readings to the 'leviathan' of all things globalism, human, unusual, spy-game, and simply uncertainty linked Earthling media-adjective (for the Ego!). Maybe Seles was my Medusa, an inspiration for anything Jabberwocky, reminding me that tennis is for anyone (really).