An FNG got into an email thread with my fucked-up tennis team. So I had to pull out my teacher’s highlighter and school him on writing to men.
You need to know, when not playing tennis, FNG Tongate brews his own beer.
Here’s my response and below is what I
redacted and entered for him.
From: Kieran to the fucked-up 3rd world team
What were you brewing this past weekend? A barrel called: “Porter of Shame and Remorse”?
You gotta put a bunch of “fucks” in your email or it reads like an 8th-grade girl’s diary.
I took the liberty of a little re-write. It may not come out exactly as you intended it, but it’s a lot fucking closer to the truth.
From: J. Tongate
to my tennis team:
Firstly, congrats to the team for a dominant victory on Thursday.
Let’s keep the momentum going! We are all surprised any of you mother fuckers could win a match.
n’t directed towards anyone specifically (maybe a select few opponents who won’t read this). every one of you insensitive assholes…
I just wanted to acknowledge that I’ve been taking tennis too fucking seriously over the past few months and
my antics, outbursts and tantrums have gotten a little out of a hand you fuckers haven’t made it any easier.
Tennis means a lot to me and getting better, limiting mistakes and winning
as a result has become almost too much of a life priority. is close to impossible when I have to carry the oldest and fattest players on the team (Kieran and Angry Ed – who is next, Goddamn Gibson?)
I keep telling myself to not put all my eggs in one basket, maybe find some other interests, lead a more balanced life, etc.
When those letdowns and mistakes occur, and they inevitably always do, it can’t be the end of the world. I sometimes think I need to control my temper and screaming and racquet throwing and smashing balls into far regions of whichever country club I might be playing in. But then I hear Julian walling and gnashing his teeth like God is “smiting” him, and I just can’t help myself. Or maybe it’s okay? What do you think?
I sometimes think
to myself if I were to go down with an ankle or tear a muscle or something, and tennis was stripped away from me, I would be absolutely miserable – like I was fucking Griff or something. Temporarily. Until I found something else to obsess over. Or until I recovered. Wait oh yeah, Griff seems to have found a way to drink and eat wings and not have to deal with any of you on the court…
At any rate, I’d like to tone down the embarrassing stuff while retaining the fucking passion for this game we all love. I can only hope that any offensive behavior hasn’t tarnished my
relative fucking new guy newcomer reputation as a decent human being who is fun to play with or against. Because if that is my reputation, I’m the only one on this team that qualifies as a decent human being.
Also, I THINK that everything that was just said above is about 80% sincere and 20% sarcasm. I really don’t know what the ratio of sarcasm to reality is
in what I have just said. I want to change some things, sure. I sorta care about my reputation, sure. It’s a slippery slope, and you fuckers are pushing me over the edge.
Anyway, while I take the short slide into hell with you, I do know that
I love this team and I love tennis, 95%. 😉
The other 5 percent is anger, self-loathing and disgust for all people – especially people who play tennis.
In conclusion, nice win and keep up the good work, fuckers.
After this email exchange, Tongate and a few other idiots started calling him “Jesus.”
Then “Jesus” started showing up in sandals. Next thing you know, he will start sprinkling water on everybody’s head like it’s a fucking baptism.
Tongate’s second attempt at emailing the men’s team was much better. He sprinkled in a few fucks and had just the right mix of anger and anguish. He even threatened to hit a couple of geriatric gentlemen in the balls.
And you know that’s exactly what Jesus would do too.