I won’t hit you with a lot of words about 9/11 today. If you’re like me, you’ve seen and read plenty about the 10th anniversary in the last few days.
Instead, I want to point you toward some of the great stuff I’ve come across. If you don’t want to see any of it, I understand. But some of this is truly extraordinary.
— I’ve written about this before; it’s a slideshow video put together a few weeks after 9/11 by a graphic artist named Jason Powers. It’s beautiful.
— An extremely moving piece in the New York Times “Reckoning” series, this one about the artifacts people saved from 9/11, and how much they mean.
— And finally, a photo collage of iconic images from that day 10 years ago when our world changed forever.
**These crushing losses by my man-crush Roger Federer are getting old.
The greatest tennis player of all-time doesn’t just lose matches anymore; he loses epic, Greek tragedy-type matches. For the second year in a row, Fed lost to Novak Djokovic in a scintillating five-set U.S. Open semifinal.
It was almost an exact replica of last year, with Djokovic rallying, Federer having two match points and blowing them, and then Djokovic winning 7-5 in the fifth.
It was splendid, remarkable stuff, everything that could make a person love tennis even more.
But this is now three horrendous five-set losses for Fed in the last year. His year will be Grand Slam-less for the first time since 2002 (which is freaking amazing).
The decline has been slow for Federer, but clearly it’s happening. Two years ago he’d never fail to close. Now, he just can’t seem to finish.
All props, too, to Djokovic, who continues to grow up so much this year. What a fantastic player he is, and his match with Rafael Nadal Monday will be all kinds of fascinating. Can Djokovic beat Rafa for the sixth time this year? Can Nadal strike back?
Also, one more reason why I love Rafael Nadal: The kid oozes class. Skip to 1:20 of this video and watch him, unprompted, pay tribute to 9/11 just a few moments after finishing his match.
**Football’s back! My absolute favorite way to spend a Sunday in the fall is at a sports bar watching six of seven NFL games at once. I eat fried food that’s bad for me, I nurse one drink (bars don’t love me, but hey, I’m not a drinker), and I revel in the joy (and agony, if I’m watching the Jets) of NFL football.
This year is weird for me because I won’t be going to my favorite bar in Daytona Beach where I used to live, Houligans. I’m quite certain at some point Sunday afternoon at Houligan’s Sean the firefighter will turn to Bennett the construction worker (in five years I never learned their last names; they’re not necessary at bars) and say “Hey, where the hell is Mike the crazy Jets fan?”
We were a small but devoted band of fans who saw each other for a few hours every Sunday, and then went our separate ways. But I loved those guys because they were always there and they shared my passion.
Anyway, after intensive Internet research I found a new sports bar near my new home in Queens. It looked OK when I scouted it out last week, but until you’re actually there for games, you never know.
Good news is, my Jets don’t play until 8:20. So my day won’t be ruined until at least, oh, 8:45.
Happy first Sunday of the NFL, everyone.