The major stuff I watch too, and weeks like this past one are as good as any. The Olympics satisfied all my blockbuster tennis needs, while the Citi Open in Washington, DC, offered up a whole slew of Americans, young and tennis-old, men and women alike. There on Saturday, young Americans Sam Querrey, Vania King, and Sloane Stephens all lost in the semis on the afternoon that veteran Mardy Fish faded, too.

No matter. Sunday morning presented perhaps the most tantalizing match of the year: Andy Murray vs. Roger Federer playing for a gold medal at the Olympics. The storylines here are almost too rich to fathom. Scotsman Murray on hallowed Wimbledon grounds, playing for domestic gold on the site where he lost to Federer (Mr. Probably OK Definitely GOAT) only three weeks ago. There was no match I might possibly want to see more.

But then my friends called and invited me to play doubles, so I turned off the television and left. I was on court when I heard Murray won, serving out my own second set. The best day of international tennis this year? Maybe. I saw almost none of it. The humidity was 85 percent here in Mississippi, and the temperature nowhere near not-hot. But watching tennis is never as good as playing it, even if you almost pass out in the process. Screw the television and the iPhone and watching them and writing about what happens on them. I’ll get back to it tomorrow. Today I played a real match of tennis and I fucking won.