Sick Day (OT)

Howdy, Tribe. I'm off today, trying to deal with what now appears to be a 48-plus attack of some kind of respiratory infection - you know when you don't just cough, but bark like a dog? That's what I've got, along with some other bizarre it-should-be-a-cold- but-it-ain't type symptoms. But who cares! I was okay for our first annual TennisWorld New York Social, which was held in New York City's East Village, at an old fashioned British-style tavern/pub, the Telephone Bar.

We had a fine turnout, 30-plus of our most faithful readers, including a surprising number of lurkers. We had GEs until around nine, and about half the crowd stayed around for dinner. I'm not naming names because I'd leave someone out, but thanks to all of you who came. It was fun, low-key, and slightly surreal. At one point, Ray Stonada plopped down next to me, Ptenisnet, Sanja (sans Jeremy Shockey; Stonada doesn't mind being her arm candy when Jeremy isn't around) and D-Wiz (the ultimate team player; when you choose up sides, pick this chica first) and said, "Isn't it kind of weird to see that these people who you only know by their TW handles actually do exist?"

Special thanks to comrade-in-blogs Steve Tignor and Tennis.com webmistress Kamakshi Tandon for joining us. El Jon Wertheim made a brief appearance, but he was babysitting his two kids and if his wife found out he took them to a bar. . . well, you know what I mean. In fact, we were writer-heavy at this gathering: Andrew Friedman, who posts as Rolo Tomassi, is the co-author of James Blake's forthcoming book. He's been very shy and self-effacing about that, but I plan to celebrate the project as we approach the publication date for Blake's book. Steggy and Lisa MacDermott get TW Infrequent Flyer Warrior Moment Badges for making the trip; the former from Houston and the latter shtrait outta Texarkana!

I'm inviting everyone who attended to post a Comment, and want to thank you all for a good time. It was Big Fun for me to meet you all.

Well, Disco Tommy Robredo is rolling in Barcelona, and what does it tell you about tennis when the big news out of Australia appears to be that Lleyton Hewitt, who's married, a father, a former World No. 1, and 26 years old, is *not* cutting the apron strings?

I have a powerful hankering to write an Ivan Lendl post tomorrow; right now, I'm going to go cough a little more. Talk amongst yourselves, I wish you all could have been with us last night.