I Heart Pete Sampras

I love Pete Sampras. There. I said it. It's out there. Pete Sampras is one of three men I would leave my husband for (the other two being David Duchovny and Patrick Stewart). I think Brian is just beginning to realize that there's this other side of me that I've never showed him, this love for all things Pete. But, I should probably back up and explain what is prompting this post.

The other night, after Brian and I were finished watching our favorite bit of sci-fi/teen angst "Kyle XY," he was flipping through the channels. He was going through all the sports channels we have, and for some reason stops at the Tennis Channel (yes, we have too many channels). It was playing an exhibition match between Roger Federer and Pete Sampras. If you don't know, Federer is currently the best player in men's tennis, and Pete was the best player for a LONG time, in particular the 1990's and early 2000's. He has won 13 Grand Slam Championships, including 7 Wimbledons. Pete retired about 5 years ago to marry Bridgette Wilson (Adam Sandler's hot teacher in "Billy Madison") and they popped out a couple of kids. Generally, he's been living his life.

I was VERY excited when Brian found this on the TV. You see, my teenage years were not the greatest for me. I was the "smart one," kind of chubby, picked on a lot, etc. So, in response to never having a real date (or much of a life), I had a very active fantasy life. One of the main objects of my affection was none other than Mr. Pete Sampras. I was convinced that one day Pete would meet me, realize that I was the woman for him, and we would run off into the sunset together. I watched every match I could with him in it, even staying up till 2 a.m. to watch 1st round matches of the Australian Open. And Wimdledon--whoa. That was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one blissful two week period every summer. It was so good because Pete won it 7 times, and in one period, he won the tournament 5 times in a row. So, every year, I knew that Pete would advance deep into the tournament and my happiness would continue.

This is really embarrassing, but my friend A can attest that I was so in love with Pete (and David Duchovny--"X-Files" night was the other happy time) that I had my "shrine." I probably should have gotten help for delusions or something. In my closet, I had pasted on my wall any picture I could of Duchovny and Pete Sampras, including the image in this post. I can laugh at it now. But looking back, it actually makes me feel good to realize how far my emotional maturity has come in the last decade or so. I am no longer obsessed with Pete, although I must say, minus being slightly balder, he looks exactly the same as he did 10 years ago, which is good. And he can still hit the damn tennis ball, which I will be excited to see more of in the future. Only, I hope they don't pan out to the audience to Bridgette so darn much. I hate her. She stole my boyfriend.