A tribute to Melanie Oudin on the day of her US Open Quarterfinal

Dearest Melanie,

Only a few months ago, I had absolutely no idea who you were. If I was asked, there's half a chance I would've guessed you were a French Canadian goaltending prospect, just as an excuse to make fun of their names. I suck that way. And yet today, you've been my favorite person, team, or anything else to watch in sports this summer. Not because I love an underdog, or because of the boundless energy you bring to every point in every one of your matches, but because of the way you use that energy to punctuate every rally with a "COME ON!!!" In just a handful of matches, you've accomplished an incredibly unlikely task: you stole ownership of the phrase in my mind for all eternity. The ownership of my mental association has a long and proud history, and is a responsibility you should not take likely. Just look at some of your fallen predecessors:



My beloved girlfriend Michelle, a special ed. teacher, has a student named Tyler who loves "The Price is Right" more than anything on earth. He's known, in fact, to conduct pricing games on any and all items in her classroom without warning. My love doesn't run quite as deeply, but there's no doubt Bob Barker was a staple of every sick day I was lucky enough to have during elementary and middle school. As everyone born prior to 2000 surely knows, Rod Roddy's "Come on down! You're the next contestant on The Price is Right!" is simply indelible from my memory.

And then of course there was...


After the Price is Right, of course, came puberty. "Come on Eileen" was first popular a few years before my time, but it's never really gone away, has it? Catchy and filthy as that tune is, I'm sure I'm not the only person who listened to that song far too much as an adolescent boy.

But even Dexy's Midnight Runners didn't quite hold a candle to this next band...

POP PUNK WARNING! I WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE WHO IS OFFENDED BY THE SOUND OF THIS SONG!



Ahh, Midtown. For the uninitiated, before he made my future wife Blair Waldorf go bad, Cobra Starship's Gabe Saporta was the bassist/vocalist for the dearly departed pop punk band Midtown, who, as the image above and the ridiculous sign that used to hang behind them on stage said, saved...if by saved, I meant sang a bunch of bitter but very catchy songs. "Let Go" was, I believe, the first Midtown song I ever heard. And for several years, I couldn't hear the phrase "come on" without having to resist the urge to follow it with "let go."

Thankfully, one of the funniest characters in recent TV/movie memory put that to an end...



Yes, Melanie, you've managed to unseat George Oscar Bluth from the front of my memory. Not even his hysterical obsession with his increasingly expensive suits on the episode "Afternoon Delight," perhaps my favorite from Arrested Development's entire run, can stand up to the mark you've burned into my brain.

So here's to you, Melanie, and here's hoping you don't lose tonight. But even if you do, take comfort in the fact that I don't anticipate associating anything or anyone else with the phrase "come on" anytime soon.

Yours,
Andy