Taking Weekend Tennis Seriously

From espn.go.com. I would absolutely attribute the photographer if I knew that information…

This is Matthew Stafford. As a reader of this blog, you probably do not know who Matthew Stafford is. Matthew Stafford is the starting quarterback for the Detroit Lions, a National Football League team. Quarterback. Stereotypically, the head of the jocks. What I find fascinating about Matthew Stafford is that when his picture appears on my television screen (NFL telecasts show head shots of the starting lineup, #nowyaknow) as it has for the last four seasons, I can’t believe that that’s what he actually looks like. That does not look like a starting quarterback in the NFL. That looks like a frat boy. And if you told me he played football, I would assume he was a linesman. You know, those bigger guys who don’t ever get to touch the football. Those guys.

I bring up Matthew Stafford because I’m warning those of you who haven’t seen me in the last hibernating month or so that that’s how I look right now. I look like Matthew Stafford. My face is pudgy. I just wanted to brace everyone for this likeness so no one does a severe double take and injures themselves in the pro shop before we even get out onto the courts.

Hey, man. Don’t be judging me and my chipmunk face. It’s winter. It’s apparently cold. You people won’t play with me when it’s cold. So I don’t get to play. This makes me sad. So I eat. And down hot chocolate. Tons of hot chocolate. And I don’t get to play to make up for all this eating. And the vicious cycle continues.

Who am I kidding? I love to eat. I suspect I play so much tennis just so I can consume so much food. Winters are the best because everyone wears layers upon layers of bulky clothing, and they feel like they can eat a ton because it doesn’t show, and there’s a lot of food just lounging around because tis the season to make (since you’re forced to stay indoors by the cold weather) and give food (default way of showing how much someone means to you).

Winters are the best for food. The worst for tennis. I’m very conflicted.

Despite my eating habits, I actually lost quite a few pounds last year. So many weight loss thoughts I want to share (basically, losing weight sucks). For one thing, people are more than willing to tell you how great you look now that they can see a semblance of your cheekbones and chin.

You can’t see my cheekbones or my chin anymore. They’ve been buried. It’s shameful. You could even say I look worse than Matthew Staffford. I’m jealous of his faint shadow of a cheekbone.

In a week or two from now when women aren’t terrified of having to wear unappealing long wear tennis attire in public (seriously, wearing that just defeats the whole point of playing tennis), I’ll hopefully be back to my frantic 4-6 matches a week schedule (to compensate for my overeating), and then my face will slim down. Totally. Totally will.

But even if it doesn’t (I mean, really, the only place to go from this weight and age is up, amirightoramiright), there is some comfort in looking like Matthew Stafford. He looks like that but still plays at a pretty high level (he led me to the playoffs in my fantasy football league a couple of seasons ago, and putting up ridiculous fantasy football numbers is the only statistic that matters). All is not lost! I’ve lost the immediate looks battle (sizing up your opponent and making immediate judgments of how the match will go are very important aspects of weekend warrior tennis), but I still have a chance at taking the tennis war!

So go ahead. Judge my face. Play me accordingly (aka take me lightly). Matthew Stafford and I will share a knowing look.