My tennis partners and I pretty much stank up the joint on Saturday: I double-faulted three times and we all missed easy shots. You could tell how things were going by our increasingly implausible excuses for our poor performance. One opponent blamed her sunglasses; she took them off, and then the next game complained the sun was in her eyes. Another claimed the swirling wind was working against him. The wind can certainly be a valid excuse on some days, but yesterday it amounted to little more than a zephyr.
But I may have concocted the lamest excuse of all: I hit a serve into the net and promptly blamed it on a Holstein mooing at the Fishers' farm next door. Yeah, right.
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