Rafael Nadal Averages 328 Butt Picks Per Match

Since Rafael Nadal became a professional tennis player four years ago it was apparent that he possessed a relentless will to win, uncanny tennis talent, and a positively voyeuristic affinity for picking his butt on [inter]national television.

The US Open this week was no different.  Nadal picked and he picked again…all through his match with Mardy Fish, Nadal picked his butt, like tweezing a deep-rooted booger from a pinched nostril.

After Nadal achieved #1 All-Time Butt Picker status a mere 3 minutes, 42 seconds into his first professional match, passing George McCascal’s previous record of 5 butt picks over his illustrious 12-year career, Nadal set his sights a bit higher.  While not as abrupt or as instantly gratuitous as forcibly plucking cotton folds from one’s Cosby-maker, Nadal reached his goal of tennis’ #1 ranking mid-2008.

Nadal is clearly at the top of his game as he rolls through the US Open.  This year he beat Roger Federer in Wimbledon, a championship that has dodged him for some time.  He continues to impress at the French Open, which he has won the last 4 years.  Included in his trophy case is a Gold Medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.

My only worry is that he will be better remembered for fingering wedged cloth than winning tournaments.

Here’s a clip…

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was called to the board to calculate a math problem.  (Bear with me.)  As I turned and faced the board, I picked up the piece of chalk with my right hand and sunk my left hand deep between my seat cushions – like I was reaching for a sock that fell behind the washing machine.  That was the last time I picked my butt.  It was ten years ago.  Once in ten years I picked my butt with the veracity and ferocity that millions witness 328 times during the three hours of a Rafael Nadal tennis match.

When my brother and I played tennis growing up, I was always Agassi and he was Sampras.  He was straight laced and I was pegged as more of a problem child.  So it fit.  As we got older, Sampras, then Agassi retired and our tennis matches were just nobody vs. nobody.  Shortly into Federer’s career, my brother “became him” in our tennis matches.  So I faked excitement being Andy Roddick, whom is still cheer for, but it just didn’t fit.

One Sunday morning, I threw on the tele, ecstatic to discover my new tennis persona - hair waving, fist-pumping, 100 percent giving, winner hitting, butt picking… what, butt picking?  Well, only once, I’ll let it slide.  K, he didn’t get the wedgie the first time.  What?  He didn’t get it the second time?  This is one atomic wedgie and I didn’t even know the seniors were sore at him.  Throughout the match Nadal was relentless.

Undeterred, our next tennis match, I came out with a cut-off shirt, bandanna, and REGULAR shorts.  (I’ll save the clam-diggers for another article.)  After a 5 setter that I lost, I hadn’t had the slightest urge to remove fabric from my insides.  (Probably because it was never inside me.)  Not once.

So, I don’t know.  I give up trying to understand.  Go for the Guiness Rafai!  And in between picks, try to get a few points.  As for me, on the tennis courts I’m back to just The Jerk.

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