Two racquets started dating. Unfortunately, one was stringing the other along without any intention of tying the knot.
It feels great to hit the ball again. It spin a long time.
I really hate these strings. I can feel it in my gut.
Pick-up line: You might as well play be a tennis player, because I’m about to court you girl.
Do you always play this badly at the net? Because I don’t like your approach.
If you want to impress the crowd, hit overheads. Every point will be a smash hit.
The guy missed both his serves on match point. I won by de-fault.
Is your eyesight as bad as your cell phone reception? Because that was a terrible call.
I want to practice my forehand outside, but it will be wet in the morning and nice later on. So here’s the plan for today: inside-out.
The last thing I can remember was the yellow ball speeding toward me. I swung the racquet, and then things got fuzzy.
A hippie when his opponent disputes his calls: That’s pretty far-out, man!
I prefer the new system to reviewing line calls. When Hawk-eye came around, I breathed a big Cy-clops of relief.
Ana hits a lot of floating shots that her opponents destroy for winners. We need to sitter down and have a talk.
I can’t believe I framed the ball in for a winner. Shank you!
I am disappointed that you are taking such a closed-stance on my footwork advice.
Fred is so condescending about my tennis strokes. I can’t take any more of his backhanded compliments.
Jack has a large neck so he decided to wear a bowtie to his wedding. Otherwise, he’d end up with a tiebreak.
The density of this concrete leads me to believe one thing: it is a hard court.
Oh, I thought I was playing the first round, but I guess I got a free pass. Bye.
An orange and an apple signed up for a tournament. No one was surprised to find out they were both seeded.
Mary didn’t miss a first serve the entire match. It was not her fault she lost.
They call me Ace, because you just got served.