A-Rod, the Cursed Nickname

Hey ya'll, so, Nadal is out down under, not only out but hurt, so...Federer, easy cruise to victory? Not so fast, you have to get past the surging American, under the inspiring tutelage ofhall of famer Jimmy Connors, a former up-and-coming star who is back, bigger, stronger than ever, the one, the only...America's tennis pride...A-Rod! AROD! A...

Um, isn't he that baseball player who chokes in big games? Isn't he that tennis player who chokes in big games? Though to be fair, Roddick has at least won a grand slam title. Not to worry, I'm sure the Yankees will get one sooner or later with Arod at third, will that be enough to change the perception of him? Depends. A lot also depends on this tennis match coming up. Can Andy Roddick beat Roger Federer, when it counts? When the stakes are huge? After learning from one of the legends of tennis, can he do it?

Or will he choke?

This begs the question, what is with the nickname Arod? Here are two modern athletes of considerable skill in their respective sport, admired--sort of, by ladies and men and fans--and respected, sort of. But both have a habit of not winning the big one, like a curse that attaches to one's self, a shadow of suckitude. Is this a coincidence? There has to be some story, right? Some Greek fable, some god influencing human events to bring about two great athletes, cursed with his name and his luck. Is there?

You betcha. And the story goes a little something like this.

A long time ago, after the Olympians, led by Zeus, overthrew the Titans, a young man of twenty years or so dreamed of one day becoming as strong as Cronus, or Oceanus, Hyperion, Themis, Eros, before the Romans turned him into an insipid Cupid, or perhaps even Atlas, who led the Titans in the great battle for rule of the earth, punished specially in defeat, forced to hold the entire world on his back. This young man, nameless, watched the Titans fall, banished from the world to Tartarus, a deep-dark void, beneath even the Underworld.

This young man watched the Titans fall, from a safe distance of course, and one day, against the urgings of his fellow men, ventured forth to find Atlas. Small, inconsequential, drunk on their victory, the Olympians did not spy this mortal man approaching their defeated foe. The young man called out to Atlas, and perhaps dreaming of a revenge plot, Atlas granted the young man as much strength as his mortal body could hold. The young man, the strongest man in the world now, thanked Atlas and returned home, where he showed off his muscles with feats of great daring. The gods on top of Olympias, still drunk, finally took notice of him, but only as a frog takes notice of a gnat.

Wherever he went, people marveled in wonder, and he told them all his name--Arod, a short name, of strength, of power, of glory. All the mortal world began to talk of this Arod, swelling his head, calling him the strongest man by far, stronger than any cyclops, stronger than, perhaps, the gods themselves. This is when the gods took notice, but first a game of patience. Sure that this mortal had gained his strength from Atlas during their drunken celebration, they waited to see what this Arod would do with it...and what he wanted to do was to get even stronger.

Everyone exhorted him not to go, to be happy with his strength, to do great deeds for the peoples of the world and to work as one, as a team--but Arod, thirsting for even more strength--for he was just a mortal before, what power could this body hold? So he went down into the void, trying to break his way into Tartarus, where the other Titans were imprisoned, to gain their power when the gods struck with great vengeance, and cursed him, saying that he could retain the strength granted to him by Atlas, but when the situation arose when he most needed it, his strength would do him no good as he failed miserably at his task.

Following this pronouncement, Arod found himself in a far-green country, rolling fields and great trees rising from the earth. Traveling near a village, he heard cries of panic, pleas for help, when the villagers spied him, Arod, a man who they had seen previously uprooting those great trees and throwing them for miles. Word got out that Arod was here, and there was great cheer. A young girl, one of the prettiest in all the land, had been involved in a terrible accident, and if Arod did not help, she would die. Trapped by a fallen tree, one not even as big as Arod had been tossing around, all he had to do was lift it.

But when he grabbed it, his muscles bulged, veins popped out, but the tree did not move. The cries of the distressed maiden grew fainter, and the puzzled looks of the villagers angrier. For here was Arod, strongest in the land, and now he couldn't lift a tree half the size of what earlier in the day he was throwing for miles? What insanity was this? Who was he kidding? And as the maiden died, pleading for rescue no more, the villagers threw sticks and stones at Arod, breaking his spirit as he retreated into a dark hole in the earth, alone. The strongest man in the world at his time, but when it came time to save an innocent, he couldn't lift a little log.

Is this to be Andy Roddick's fate? Now, obviously Federer is well, Federer, and Andy Roddick no where near the greatest or strongest player in the world--but regardless, he could go down in history as just another Arod, and tonight, in just a couple hours, he can change all that. It'll be almost 4 o'clock here on the east coast when the match begins, but you better believe I'll be watching, because I want Andy to save that girl.

I want him to be a hero again.