Rose Colored Glasses of a Sam-Esque Tennis Player

His glasses were rose,
No onions to pose.

Though he appeared to be Sam,
He was entirely of jam.

His hair was jet black,
Almost like a night where it is black.

On the courts, he was a star!
Moonlighting working at a bar.

The racket in his hands,
Reminded me of Egyptian sands.

He almost always missed,
Except when he didn't.