Winners

Bubbled Hard Courts and a (much) better McMuffin

SCHEDULE:
7:00 am | Prospect Park Tennis Center // $42
8:15 am | Winner, Park Slope

Scooped Dave at 6:20 am in the Hot Pocket aka my 2019 BMW x2 m35 with lava red seats. It’s dark and early; even the rummaging rats are wondering what the hell we’re doing. Traffic was light from the West Village to BK, a breezy 22 minutes all in. Maybe this congestion pricing thing is working. Don’t tell Dave.

Rockstar parking in front of the Prospect Park Tennis Center and a dollar forty for the meter. This journey already feels like a win. Bubbles are up on both wings, nine Har-Tru and two hard courts. We’re not sure which pro we have to sleep with to get a soft court for the sake of our aging bodies but we’re on the hunt. Prospect has a cult following and they’re early birds, ressies are slim pickings and require Dave’s advanced math degree to decipher the online system. Dunlop backpacks on (not matching), we head to the hard courts, briefly wallowing in the spongy surfaces of the two courts along the way. Insert sad-face-emoji here.

We played two rounds of 11s (single point games to 11, no serving) chased by two 21s matches (tiebreaker-esque, two serves each to 21 with three points for winners, five for aces and overheads and giving back two for double faults). We split the lot and then phoned in one final 11. Neither of us bent our knees once. Heading out, we noted the cordial attitudes on the courts; smiles, nods and a couple hellos, go a long way at 7 am. I guess any fool that gets up this early to play must really want to be here. Game respects game.

While the courts are fine, the real reason we hit at Prospect was Dave’s jonesing for a breakfast sando at Winner in Park Slope. Specifically, the airy scramble on homemade english muffin with ham and white cheddar cheese. I ordered two like Gary Busey telling Utah to get him lunch and then Dave noticed a tiny chalk sign that said the sandwich was available with sausage. What?!? This is like finding a unicorn in the park, becoming best friends and then sharing Winner breakfast sandos. I got it, Dave got the better McMuffin and we split them. No unicorn. My only call out is that I wish the muffin was toasted some. Ok and maybe a dab of hot sauce. Otherwise, it’s pretty spot on.

Along with an epic olive oil loaf, the other magic must for breakie at Winner (there really are no fails here) is the cinnamon roll. It is. So. Good. And somehow has been getting better over the years; the moist quotient has ticked up, along with the sheer amount of cream cheese frosting. It’s ridiculously tasty and a classic coffee dunk. Bench-style tables line the 11th Street side and we sat in the balmy 41 degrees and stared at the hipster queue. Bitter note: They haven’t reopened the inside since Covid and it makes us groan each time we show up. But we still do... D had an iced capp with almond and I chased with a black cold brew. Winners all around.

SCORELINE:
11s: Dave 1, Paul 1
21s: Dave 1, Paul 1