I sometimes poke fun at America’s top-ranked player here on my blog (see Travis Bickle’s haircut or Monte Carlo), but I must be honest about part of the motivation behind my occasional needling of Andy Roddick: It is envy — he is the son my mother never had.

He has been her favorite player since he came onto the scene eight years ago, and she has stuck with him despite his ultimately disappointing success in Grand Slams, winning only one, the 2003 U.S. Open.

Of course, who I am to pick on any ATP player? My mom once took me to Macon, Georgia, in the blazing heat of the summer to play the Georgia Qualifyings when I was fourteen or so. I didn’t qualify, but I did slam my racket down in a consolation match and earned two penalty points and ultimately went on to lose. It was a long ride home, one of many in my checkered junior tennis career.

Andy on the other hand, is immensely popular with big endorsements and even boasts two versions of bobblehead dolls — one you can buy on his website, and the other on eBay. I, for one, hope he does the improbable and wins the Italian Open this weekend (he reached the semis today). It will make my mom, and I imagine his, very happy. Happy Mother’s Day!