I was watching the Rogers Cup tennis tournament yesterday afternoon on TV. Rafael Nadal, the number one male player in the world, was striding onto the court. So was his opponent, but I didn’t notice him much.

As the game got going, it soon became clear that Benoit Paire had a wicked backhand. He also was no Nadal and I expected a quick match. After Benoit missed a fairly easy shot at the net, he leaned over and smashed his racket on the court. Then he stood up and threw it straight down, and it bounced crazily. His face was a seething mask of disgust, and I just stared. I know he’s playing for a lot of dollars but tennis is just a game, isn’t it?

Four more times during the match, Benoit launched his racket and I soon tired of his fury.

I thought back to other TV adventures, such as professional golf tournaments. A player hits the ball out of bounds and proceeds to imbed his club in the fairway carpet. Or perhaps flings his 4-iron into the woods. Clearly the world is coming to an end.

And unless you think I’ve risen above such displays of pique, I remember standing on an elevated tee with a shallow pond down below. My drive dribbled along the grass and plopped mockingly into the drink. Being the mature human being that I was, I picked up my golf bag (accompanied by a set of clubs) and flung the whole mess into the water. I stared at the offending equipment as it slowly submerged, and yelled some profanity. Seconds later, I woke up, stumbled off the tee and waded into the murkiness, eventually ho-heave-hoing the sodden package to the shore. Can you say “out of my mind”?

What the heck happens to us human beings when things go wrong? Whatever happened to equanimity? All I know is that whenever I’m starting to become full of myself, all I have to do is remember my glazed eyes as the clubs sank beneath the surface. That brings me back to earth.

Thank God.