Wii - It's Better than a Commodore 64

I'll be honest: Every time I read a post about somebody Wii-ing it up on this new-fangled video game system the kids are playing nowadays, I say to myself, "Sounds fun, but . . .

1) "Is it postworthy?"

and

2) "Could it possibly be better than playing Frogger on a Commodore 64?"

We were at a friend's house for a party last night and there was a commotion in the basement.

I went down to investigate, only to find myself smack dab in the middle of a heated Wii tennis match between two Lithuanian immigrants.

So engaged were they in the action being projected onto a vast expanse of basement drywall, that they barely noticed the assembled children making bunny ears and various other shadow figures in the middle of their virtual court.

Never one to miss out on the action, I challenged my friend V to a match.

The gymnastics and harp lessons my parents had me enrolled in for all those years?

What a colossal freakin' waste of time.

Turns out that I'm a natural virtual tennis pro.

I picked this sport up with a quickness, my friends, and I never looked back.

I'll let you in on a dirty little Wii secret, too: the trick is to pretend as though you are actually playing real tennis on an actual tennis court.

Go ahead and hop around the basement, shuffle to and from the virtual net, swear like a trucker, and rock that virtual sweat visor.

This is the only way to win.

I probably don't have to tell you that I creamed the pants off my friend V with my powerhouse serves and deft backhand volleys.

Except for the negligible two or three times when my visual-spatial judgment failed me and I collided with the wall, my form was impeccable and the calories burned were most likely on par with what I would have worked off if I were, say, Jazzercizing with a hangover.

And I would still be in that basement now, running in place and yelling at the screen like a pint-sized female version of John McEnroe, were it not for the unfortunate fact that I accidentally whacked the little J-dog upside the head with my virtual tennis racket when he crept up behind me in the dark, bringing the evening's match to an abrupt close.

The P-Dawg and I are now conducting our home search around the singular criteria that there must be a wide enough expanse of drywall in the basement for us to stage nightly Wii tournaments.