I don't want to be too harsh on William C. Rhoden here. You know, because I kinda want to see "Hancock" too. Looks interesting yet mindless. I like that in a flick. But unless the 7 o'clock Fulham Road showing of the movie was the last one for all eternity...well, I just don't understand how you go to London during Wimbledon, watch the first two sets of a match between two fierce rivals, and then leave to go to the movies.
No one expected a day-night match for the ages.I'll admit, I turned down a ticket to Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS because the Red Sox were down three games to none, Sox-Yankees playoff games traditionally last for days at a time, and I didn't feel like trying to find my way out of Boston sometime after midnight. So maybe I'm a hypocrite.
Who thought that in a stretch of 24 hours, Venus Williams’s great accomplishment — a fifth women’s singles championship — would be dwarfed by a tennis marathon?
Who thought? Not us. So we watched as Nadal took a commanding two-set lead, concluded that this was Nadal’s day and decided to take in a movie, “Hancock.”
Then again, I still watched the game. In order for the analogy to work, I would've had to go to Boston, sit through the first five innings, say, "Fuck this," and leave Fenway, only to head over to the Cask'n Flagon and watch a couple of innings there before going to see "Raise Your Voice". I didn't do that.