Doesn’t matter who your tennis hero is, you have to admire Saint Sinner

On Sunday, in the town where Salvador Dali studied fine arts, another artist creates a stylish slash on a Madrid canvas. The smooth clay has been disturbed by expertly sliding feet and it’s just a hero leaving his mark on his way to the net. You know which one, right? That Italian choir boy who has rejected mercy, the gentle champion with a right hook of a forehand, that buttoned-up bruiser who discards flash and forces us to look up the etymology of a word.

“Consistency.”