All about the Bertos

I’ve heard it said that San Diego is a one-horse town. But then the Clippers left, so what are we now?

Now there’s this insidious talk that Comic-Con might be fleeing town for Anaheim or LA or even Vegas. If that happens, well, what is there to do but cry "havoc" and let slip the dogs of war?

At least we’ll always have the taco shops. You’ve probably heard of Roberto’s, the flagship and, apparently, the progenitor of what are known as “the Bertos.” There’s also a longstanding chain called Alberto’s that reportedly was started by the same empire that Roberto’s wrought.

If the saga had ended with these two siblings, this latter day Romulus and Remus, I’m sure the late night enchilada and weekend menudo scene would have still thrived, to the consternation of many a local aorta. However, like Sherman marching through the South, they had scorched a path for many an ambitious imitator to follow, and pretty soon, every Tom, Dick, and Hidalgo was opening a taco shack in the Bertos mold.

And so, in honor of my no-horse hometown and also my beloved Fred (played by Amy Acker) from the TV show Angel, whose love of taco shops is well-documented (albeit Los Angeles joints), I present a family portrait of local Bertos, bastards front and center.

Roberto’s

Kearny Mesa

Here it is, the grandpappy of them all. Rubio’s, eat your heart out! (Seriously, though, this food is not good for you.)

Ramberto’s

Spring Valley

This particularly violent contender has been ramming burritos down your throat since 1989.

Filiberto’s

Encinitas

It is said that Filiberto’s is far inferior to the taco shop next door, known by the sexy name of Raul’s. To which I say, “No duh. One is a Berto’s, and the other is a Raul’s.”

Eriberto’s

Oceanside

This place is pretty depressing to look at, even by Bertos standards.

Rigoberto’s

North Park

The sign says it all: “The best Mexican food in town.” Rigo, I hoped you’re a damned liar, because if 5 rolled tacos with guac constitutes the best Mex this city has to offer, then we’re in worse shape than I thought.

Rolberto’s

Spring Valley

This I don’t get. There’s already a Roberto’s (about a million of them, actually). What on earth is Rolberto’s? To their credit, they offer breakfast and lunchs.

Adalberto’s

Sherman Heights

Again, I’m confused. The name "Adalbert" has Germanic origins, and apparently, there was a St. Adalbert of Prague, but what German person evens wants this obscure name? So how is it that a completely separate culture would want it?

Gualberto’s

Kearny Mesa

Huh? Robert is a name. Albert is a name. Even Adalbert is a name. But what’s Gualbert?

Humberto’s

Golden Hill

Nabokov, a noted chimichanga fan, would be proud. Nymphets, coquettes, and assorted pre-adolescents, stay far away!

Robertaco’s

San Ysidro

One last entry. This is not an official Berto’s, but I’ve included it for sentimental reasons.

Notes

1. This is not a comprehensive list; for something like that, see here.

2. Though I took all of the accompanying photos, I did not make any special trips to get them. Such is the ubiquity of the Bertos name that I was able to get all of these pictures while in the course of other pursuits.

3. In case anyone is wondering, no, heavens no, I haven’t eaten at any of these establishments. I should note, however, that once, after having a glass of wine with a young lady, she informed me that we had strolled over to Humberto’s, and I had behaved boorishly toward some hipster lad. I immediately declared that I had no memory of any such interaction, and to this day, I deny everything.

Nine Years Later

I don’t know if it’s a long time or a short time, but nine years later, someone has finally done to Roger Federer what he once did to Pete Sampras, and the parallels are notable, if not shocking (though I have yet to see any mainstream press comment on the similarities, so I may be the first!).

It’s the end of an era. The tennis world turns upside-down. The King is dethroned. The King is dead. Those are the kinds of headlines that try to capture the magnitude of Federer losing to Tomas Berdych in the quarterfinals of Wimbledon. I’d prefer to capture history as it repeats itself, so I’ll give it a shot: The dragonslayer is now the slain dragon. Not much of a ring to it, but it’ll do.

In 2001, I was on vacation in China, of all places, when the news came in, probably from some British announcer chaps named Alan and Vijay on television coverage of Wimbledon: Pete Sampras, grass-court king, 7-time and defending Wimbledon champ, had been beaten by a Swiss upstart – and a teenager at that – named Roger Federer.

I was stunned. It was one of the few constants in the universe, unbreakable like the laws of physics – Sampras always prevails at Wimbledon. How could he lose, and to a relative unknown (by which I mean someone who had never won a Slam, and was not projected to win one soon)? I guess I thought he would never grow old. I thought his body would never tire, his will would never break. And then it did.

What I took for granted at the time was that Sampras lost because he hadn’t played well, not because he was beaten by a great (or soon-to-be-great) player. But how could I have known?

No, I don’t think Tomas Berdych has the potential that Federer had nine years ago, nor do I expect him to accede to the throne as the next King of Wimbledon, but still, there are strong echoes between this match and the one from nine years ago:

• Both Pete and Roger lost to a relative unknown who had never won a Slam.
• Roger was seeded 15th when he beat Sampras. Berdych is seeded 12th.
• Roger lost in the quarterfinals. Pete went home in the fourth round.
• Pete was 29 when he lost to Federer. Roger is 28.
• Both matches were played on Centre Court.
• Both Sampras and Federer, at the time of their defeats, were considered by most to be the best player who had ever lived.

Even the comparison of the losers’ post-match walkoffs is strikingly similar. I quote from CNN Sports Illustrated in 2001:

With no trophy to collect, Sampras picked up three sweaty towels, stuffed them into his tennis bag and slung it over his shoulder. Then, head down [my italics], he slowly followed Roger Federer toward the exit, reluctantly departing Wimbledon.

And here, Yahoo’s take on Federer’s exit yesterday:

When it was over at Wimbledon on Wednesday afternoon, Federer slowly walked toward the net, shook Berdych’s hand, packed his bag and began the slow walk off Centre Court. The English crowd gave him a standing ovation. Federer kept his head down [my italics] for most of the walk to the locker room, blindly waving his hand in acknowledgment. When he was a few feet from the door he stopped and looked up at the crowd, a king surveying his subjects for the final time.

“Head down” – a king hardly knows how to leave his kingdom. History repeats itself.

Asked if there would be any more Wimbledon crowns in their future, what did you expect them to say?

Pete: “Let’s not get carried away. I plan on being back for many years. There’s no reason to panic and think that I can’t come back here and win here again. I feel like I can always win here.”

Roger: [Asked if he thinks he can return to dominance at Wimbledon] “Yeah, I do think that. That’s why I’m here.”

Pete never won another Wimbledon. I can’t say for sure that I think Roger will, but I think he stands higher up among his peers than Pete did in 2001.

If anything, this series of events has made me appreciate all the more Pete Sampras’s accomplishments, and by accomplishments, I mean, of course, the only ones that matter – the 14 Grand Slam titles. Consider how great Federer was from 2004 until 2007 – in every year except 2005, he won three out of four Slams, and in 2005, he won two. That’s 11 Slams in four years. Tack on his first Wimbledon crown in 2003 and his single Grand Slam victory from 2008, the US Open, and that’s 13 Slams. And yet after his loss to Rafael Nadal in the 2009 Australian Open finals, there was widespread doubt about Federer’s chances of overtaking Sampras’s record. It boggles the mind to think that as dominant as Federer was, and for so seemingly long a stretch, he was still behind Sampras, and what had seemed a foregone conclusion back in the glory years of 2004 to 2007 was now a real debate once more.

Well, Federer did come back, and he did surpass Sampras, and if he never wins another tournament, not to mention a Grand Slam, he’s still the king, the greatest tennis player of all time. At least until Tomas Berdych stakes his claim.