For those of you who might not have been around in the 1980s, there were few things in professional sports more entertaining than a full-on John McEnroe tirade. Sure, the act didn't sit too well with the folks at Wimbledon, but the people running the ATP tour knew full well that McEnroe, along with fellow bad boy Jimmy Connors, were promotional gold. When Nike decided it was time to dive whole hog into mega-athlete endorsements, it wasn't any surprise that McEnroe was the only tennis player they could possibly be interested in.
A couple of weeks ago I got to see McEnroe play in person for the first time since I was in the stands at Louis Armstrong Stadium at the 1981 U.S. Open Final. After spending an entire evening watching him play World Team Tennis for the New York Sportstimes against the Washington Kastles, it seemed clear to me that at least for one night, time had mellowed him.
Then again, maybe not.
There are two rules to casually watching tennis: (1) 
Professional tennis players need to go back to wood.
