Men's tennis is going dancin'
t's not that perfection doesn't exist in sports. Disney feasts on it, and children can't help but imagine it. But when the grind of a season corrodes those attempts at perfection, when faults and walks and bricks remind you of perfection's impossibility, it's easy to think that those childhood thoughts are only meant for disappointment. That perfection is lost with the drop of a point. And then there's the 2010 season of the men's tennis team. Then you have a team swarming center court, a black-and-glass trophy held high, a coach dripping from a Gatorade dousing. You have a reminder that perfection can still peek out from its hiding spot, beneath a crystal blue sky, often when you least expect it.