Tennis. One of those sports where microphones are deliberately placed to monitor an athlete`s articulate grunts.
Tiny amplifiers enhance each pitch. ”Yeh, well I think you`re a jerk,”
says a player to the umpire. Thanks to microphones one can appreciate what a gentlemanly sport tennis truly is.
Technology is definitely at its finest when watching a disgruntled athlete flip a gesture at a blank-faced umpire, then spew him with insults.
Though summer is coming to a close, fortunately we can relish in a few more recorded hisses. A hiss in itself is OK, but when accompanied by a red-faced, salivating sportser dressed in puritanical white, it`s downright godly.
Audible tennis seems especially magical on muggy days. A return of a lob is the best though, especially when it`s smashed at an inattentive linesman.
”Where`d that come from?” blurts a dazed linesman who has just been bopped on the head by a 125-mph ball.
Like everything, microphones aren`t perfect. Occasionally sounds are muffled. And there have been reported incidences of a miffed player ripping a microphone from its connector. Meaningful words are muted.
But when the sound returns and we hear a player say, ”What do ya mean that was out, you dimwitted idiot?” one realizes Emerson was right. ”It`s a luxury to be understood.”
