"You asshole."

Tonight my tennis opponent called me an asshole.

I began the match with heavy legs and poor concentration. Most of the baseline rallies I lost after gaining the court advantage, smacking errors from the service line that should have been easy winners. After thirty minutes, I trailed 0-4. Eventually I improved my footwork, but the forehand errors continued to mount. Desperate, I switched strategies. Using aggressive serve-and-volley tactics, I finally held. Then, on return, I played a classic counterpuncher's game: deflecting pace, containing the court, limiting my opponent's angles, keeping the ball deep. I broke back, held again, and broke a second time. After an hour and a half, we were level at 6-6. In the tiebreak, I once again fell behind. Down 1-5, I again changed tactics. I hit huge serves directly at him, then retreated, hitting heavy backhands to the corners. Returning his serve, I hit inside-out forehands crosscourt or backhands down the line. I ended the set with a dropshot winner, 8-6.

We started the second set with service holds. Then, I again switched gears. After two hours of intense running in the heat, my opponent had tired, and I, noticing his fatigue, took control of the match. I deliberately prolonged rallies, forcing him to win or lose by attrition or else go for broke. He didn't like my new strategy. After an exhausting exchange that ended with my sliced backhand winner, he collapsed. "You asshole. I run you corner to corner and I lose the point?"

It was the finest compliment I've ever received from another athlete.

Slothrop: Hey Koko, I think you mostly kick a tremendous amount of ass for a smart-alec talking gorilla. Well played, primate.

Koko: I'm an asshole!