Karlovic defeats Federer

They have had many close matches. Many, many tiebreaks. But, my heart is broken.

Guest Blogger RickRock will be happy that Nadal has a HUGE chance at being number one. And I am with him on wanting Rafa to hold that numero uno for a bit. Rafa deserves it. As Cahill says, "confidence means everthing". The Rog doesn't have it right now.

And as everyone knows, I have a big soft spot for Karlovic. He has a stutter. That makes me love him. Really.

Later:

It's extraordinarly late. I am half asleep. This is the bad thing about Tivo/DVR. But they just showed the 31 yr old Lapenti in the audience here, at the Nadal/Haas match (which is a fantastic match), who beat Verdasco...I love Verdasco. But how great is ist that an Equardoran, not young, has such a great win? I can't help but to be happy for Lapenti. Regardless of the fact that I am Verdasco's face book group leader. As an old person, I am thrilled for Lapenti's win. And he's hot, too.

Yours Truly,
Paula

Day Four of Cincinnatti 2008

I am just starting to watch and will continue to update as I manage to watch more. But I wanted to say... HI EVERYBODY!!!!!

I'm proud that I called Gulbis beating Blake. Thing is I always pick Gulbis because he is, unlike Del Potro, one of those up and comers who everyone oohs and aahs over and says "he'll be top ten" that I actually ooh and ah over, too. He seems like he has a lot of game and composure. And I'm a Blake fan. But whenever I make some money on betting on Gulbis, I feel smart.

Right now Djokovic is playing Seppi. And Moya- not on the telly, waaahh - is playing Davydenko. But they just flashed the score- they just started the third. GO MOYA!!! I think I picked Davy to win that one- don't tell! I don't always follow my heart, sometimes, I go with the stats. Although, I'm not sure as I can't check my picks without seeing the results of matches I haven't watched yet.

One thing I will predict, is that I will be commenting a bit on the commentators here. The Beeg is funny and outrgeouos and occasionally I wanna strangle him. Chris Fowler- I don't like him. And the Aussie- I like him.

OH YEAHH! Moya beats Davydenko!! Maybe that hot new girl of his is helping his game. I wish it were me. Or Pennetta. But I'm happy he's doing well.

MORE LATER:

(P.S. - Did I write that I googled how far Cinci was by car? It's just over 10 hours. I thought- I thought some more. Drive Five! Sleep at a motel 6! Drive Five more. tada!!! And then, I decided to stay home and watch the Telly and let my fam play tennis instead of watch it all day long. HECK! We just got back from Toronto...)

Yours Truly,
Paula

Day Two of the Cincinnati Masters, 2008

Well, I am glad that Moya beat Tipsarevic, because Moya is a God-like speciman of humanity. That said, I was sad to see his new girlfriend in the audience, Carolina Something or other (maybe I'll fill that in later), because I liked the Moya-Penetta romance. Carolina has the whiff of model/actress. Sigh. Anyway, as soon as I have more info on her, maybe I will be comforted by knowing more about her. But Penetta was awesome! Is awesome. And I love two-tennis-peeps romance.

I am now watching Stepanek v. Andreev. After seeing Andreev win against Monfils in Toronto, and being totally blown away by his spinny super-raquet accelerrating shots, I hope he pulls through here, tight in the third set. Also, Andreev studied tennis in Spain, so for me, he is an alomst-Spaniard, like Safin, like Kuznetsova, and therefore, I like him very much. That said, I have walked by Stepanek on more than one occasion during my Canada trips and- OK, you gotta trust me on this - he's actually quite handsome and charming-looking in real life! TV is not kind to everyone. The TV makes him look - um- unattractive. But really he's not unattractive. Really!

I love tiebreaks in the third in general. So. I'm happy. DUDE! Down the line winner! Go Igor!!!! ( I love that name, my first cat was named Igor, after my dad's favorite composer, Stravinski.)

Yours Truly,
Paula

Nadal defeats Kiefer in the Rogers Cup Final, 2008

Wow, did anyone else find this a completely boring match? People, I fell asleep. Which is cool, as earlier posts attest. I like to nap while watching tennis. But still, dude, a total yawner for the final?

The semi between Krazy Kiefer and Simon was good stuff. The most fun was listening to Brad Gilbert be such an idiot, blabbing away, calling SiMON "Simon Says" and in general being a complete ass. The Beeg (that's what we call him, which is us mushing together B and G, and I think others on the telly call him that and that is why we call him that) is a true nutbar.

But that final. Snoozarama. Frankly, I needed the nap.

Cinci next week! I filled out my raquet bracket! My raquet bracket for Toronto had- OK, I was going for the upsets - a Tipsaravic/Safin final. Needless to say, I was very lowly ranked. Like, almost the lowest of thousands of people who did it on the ATP website. For Cinci, I decided to pick very few upsets. In fact, I think I have a Rafa Fed final, but with Fed winning.

Yours Truly,
Paula

Cheesewad's Photos from the Rogers Cup 2008

Cheesewad took a bunch of great photos:

Gasquet v. Nadal, The Rogers Cup, 2008

I'm watching the first set tiebreak. This is great great tennis. Oh my God- 9.9 in the tiebreak and Nadal wins the next point with just amazing tennis and Gasquet playing unbelievably.

And they are showing Rafa's girlfriend in the audience and she is the most gorgeous thing in the world- she is such a real person, too, not scary fake celeb type -and I am just blown away right now.

More later. After this tiebreak, I gotta go buy food. I love tennis, but I must press pause to feed my family. Eating is important, too. In fact, it is almost as important as watching tennis.
OH MY GOD! What play by the Frenchman! I am so in love with tennis right now. And both of these young men, too.

LATER:
I am so feeling for Gasquet. I mean, the stupid dudes on TV keep talking about how great Rafa is- and I am a huge Rafa fan -but they are missing the point that Gasquet fell apart. I am so sad for him. The first set was so amazing. I have this thing where often I cheer for the underdog. I was doing that here. Especially at the end. Richard! Richard! We gotta work on your mental game. We gotta stop you from getting tight.

Yours Truly,
Paula

I Had a Dream About Rafa Last Night

Which is funny, because I have had mostly Verdasco, Lopez, Moya, Gasquet, etc.. on my mind. The dudes I saw in Toronto. And I didn't see Rafa. And I haven't watched the Rafa v. Gasquet match yet. (Its taped though!)

The dream goes like this: I was on some island, on a beach with another girl, a friend, and it was sunny and the water was beautiful and there was Rafa! In board shorts! And, as sometimes dreams can be tricky this way, it was really Rafa, not someone else. You know how you can dream it's "Rafa", but really, it's, like, your neighbor? Cause dreams don't make sense? Well, this was Rafa, except he spoke English really well, which isn't true to life, of course. And he said, I've never had a girlfried. And I said, I saw you with your girlfriend in US Magazine! (Which is true.) And he said, I've never had an American girlfriend. And I said, Oooh. Then, somehow, Rafa and I are in a bed that is, like, in the middle of some outdoor shopping area or something. We are under the covers. It's very exciting, but there are people milling about the shopping area. He has a beautiful, hairless stomach. Then, Cheesewad jumps on the bed. Sort of like how Cheesewad jumps on the bed here at home from time to time. Also, wierdly, Cheesewad has mosquito bites all over his back. Then Rockytoad comes in, as he is known to do as well here at home. So now, it's not so exciting, it's just like Rafa and I are hanging with my kids. But I try to get them to go play video games or something. THEN Rafa's coach comes over and starts giving him lip service about not doing what he was about to do! But it wasn't Rafa's real coach, Uncle Tony, or Roig, the other guy. It was a dream person, not a real person. At this point, Rafa is standing up and no longer in bed with me. Then this writer I know and don't really like came to buy towels! I decide to get up and put a shirt on, or buy a shirt, since I don't have one on. Then, in real life, the phone rang and woke me up.

Yours Truly,
Paula

The Train Ride Home, Day 5 of the Rogers Cup, and a Meditation on Fandom

The train is pulling out of the station. It’s day Five of the Rogers Cup and it is all being taped on the DVR back out our house. I’m exhausted, although we managed to get to bed early last night. We rode the elevator down with Soderling and his fine ladyfriend – he looked really, really tired – and then Monfils walked RIGHT by us- Rockytoad loved that. Then I had the great fortune of spotting Almagro- the guy is an absolute Bull, thick as a house.

I now did some serious math, and having done that same math incorrectly earlier this week or month, I finally figured out that this is Year Five of our Canada sojourns. Earlier, I though it was Year Four. Every year I do this trip, and every year I say to myself, maybe next year I won’t go. I spend a lot of money, it’s work, the packing, the passports, the day on the train (which is kinda romantic, I love trains, actually)-- and the minis are troopers and frankly enjoy it more than they did at age 4 and 7!—but it’s extra work taking care of them, getting the picky Cheeewad fed, sending them off to the men’s room alone, finding hotel card keys, dealing with the rain, where are the autograph balls, and so on and so forth.

But next year I am going, for sure. If I stop doing this crazy trip, Montreal will be my farewell trip. It’s the better event, the more manageable City (much less sprawl.) And how can I stop going, the year Nalbandian doesn’t show up?

Here’s a quick meditation on fandom, too. I spend a lot of time thinking about these guys, my guys, my tennis heroes. I know they need me in some way – if no one watched tennis, would the tennis ball make a noise? Perhaps, but no one would make a living making that noise. And yet, even if there is this mutual –they need me or they couldn’t be tennis players- I think about them and they don’t know who I am!!! Yes, folks, they have no flipping idea who I am. And I know sooo much about them, in my own way. I know Rafa speaks the Mallorcan Catalan, I know Nalbandian lost relatives in a freak elevator accident and was so emotional playing the tournaments at that time. I know what music they listen to. I’m pretty sure I know they are all uncircumsized (see my important posts links). But they know nothing about me. And that’s just the un-mutually thing about being a fan. So to walk by them, to see them in the flesh (much much better than TV), to maybe have them glance at you, to have them smile at you, is some vindication. I exist too, man! And, dude, you are sooo much hotter in real life.

That said, as the general tone of this blog attests, the most important thing about being a fan is a sense of humor. If you can’t feel the ridiculousness of loving people who don’t know you exist, then you are missing the point. Of course, the complete lack of mutuality in many ways is probably the point- to love someone from afar, to worship them from afar, is to be back in high school, staring at the senior star quarterback and even though you are a lowly freshman, you love him with an intensity that can’t be replicated in real life, in a real relationship, a marriage, no matter how good of a marriage you have. Indeed, our fantasies and dreams are potent drugs, tied to the blossoming of loves that we had as young young people, the unrequited loves we all go through and then must discard. But who doesn’t want that pang, that breathless thrill, of loving from afar? Yes, it’s a much bigger high, watching and worshipping athletes, much bigger than arguing over whose turn it is to do the dishes and discuss whether the bills are paid. Life is sweet. It’s the only thing we have. But we need to dream like we need to eat and sleep and drink wine and buy shoes with crazy four inch heels that you can only wear to, like, the restaurant across the street. I write all this wistfully, as the flat Canadian countryside goes by, revealing a train yard full of train cars forlornly piled on top of each other, that each have the sign “Do Not Hump” pasted on them.

Yes, Do Not Hump. Even trains need reminders about this fact of life. And even trains, it seems, want to hump! Or are about to be humped, and need to remind people not to hump them! I teased my minis endlessly while they got autographs (they got Monfils yesterday after a practice match, they got Gonzo after his doubles loss!, the got Murray after his win against Wawrinka…) that I was gonna ask Verdasco to sign my boobs. They actually feared I would do it, sorta. (I’ve got a good poker face.) The look on their faces!! But also, they know I’m full of shit. “Yeah, man, I’m gonna ask him to sign my boobs!” Then Rockytoad quoted Will Ferrell from Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (imitating the accent perfectly), After he signs a baby’s forehead, he goes, “You’re not gonna want to wash that forehead, you hear me now?” Then we all cracked up.

Day Four of the Rogers Cup 2008

We are leaving the hotel for the tournament now. Our last day...there is some rain, but I am feeling hopeful that we will get to see lots of great tennis. They really doubled up last night- they had Blake playing on Court One, which is incredible. He's a top ten player and they have him on a tiny back court? Is that why he lost the first set so badly? He was pissed?

Anyhoo, here we go. The last day is always sad, but we are missing the co-creator of the minis very much so it will be nice to be back home, too.

LATER:
Due to rain delays and me being a bit of a 'tard, we ended up spending the day on the back courts and actually, that was just fine. It's such a different atmosphere and to be soooo close to those guys! Yeah, baby.

First we watched Gonzalez and Sa play against Ancic and Coetzee. Now, I don't think of myself as a fan of doubles, but it all depends on who is playing . It was great to watch Ancic and Gonzo. There were amazing points. Anci and his boy pulled it out. Then, we stayed put on court one, because -Gulp- Verdasco and Feli Lopez were playing doubles against the Polish duo, whose names I will fill in later here, and who are a very good doubles team. OH MY. Many more pictures were taken. The Spaniards won, but not after some contested ball-on-the-court moment that involved a near fight betwixt A Polish man and Verdasco!!! "You calling me a fucking liar?" Woah. Fighting words indeed. I felt sorry for the Poles even though I wanted my boys to win. I mean, here they are, across from two gorgeous top single players, two guys who get more tail than pin the tail on the donkey, and the only thing they have- and it is a big thing, but still- is their doubles game. Not much tail, no singles really, no big endorsements. And they lose their doubles match to these Spanish Gods.

Then we watched Murray and Wawrinka and were cheering on "Stan the man". It was close, but our dude did not win. And after bagelling him in the 2nd set? Murray is so testy, so hot and cold. He stopped playing in the second set, more or less. And then in the third, at the business end of the set, Stan had a string of unforced errors. It was, to me, a choke. Damn.

Then it started to rain. We came back. And here we are. Last night. We're heading down to dinner now.

Cheesewad took many many pictures and some movies that we hope to post.



More later!

Yours Truly,
Paula

Roger Federer loses to Giles Simon

I am speechless. I'm in the hotel. I may have something to say later.

Donald Young has to be feeling less bad about his loss!

The great thing, for me, is hearing the Canadian announcers. They are much more respectful, kinder, thoughtful. I sort of want to go down to the bar and see what's happening.

LATER:
I took the elevator down to the bar. The minis were playing games on the TV in our room. The moment I got off the elevator, there was Gasquet and a big entourage. I got nervous. I'm shy! Then I walked to the two bars I know here at the Hilton, I peeked in, no groups of tennis peeps were there. So I gave up. I went back to the lift. Lo and behold, MOYA walked out when I was walking in to go back to my minis. I nearly melted. I behaved, though.

I gave up. I freaked out about Fed's loss all alone. Thinking about my run-ins, all alone.

Yours,
Paula

How I Used to be a Rock Drummer Groupie and now I'm a Subdued Middle-Aged Tennis Groupie Instead

Someday, I'll write this post. (I think I may have touched on the subject matter earlier in the blog, but it deserves a full on post.)

Yours Truly,
Paula

Breakfast at the Hilton, Day Three of The Rogers Cup

Oh My. I am in tennis heaven. Here is a quick overview of breakfast tennis hotties. Safin walked out as we walked in. Moya walked in while we waited for our table. So did Llodra. Then Blake came in at the end of our meal. I let Rockytoad get some more pineapple at the buffet and say "Good luck" to Blake. Rockytoad said he said "Thanks", but that he wasn't "ecstatic". I said, "Was he irritated?" Rockytoad said, "no", but was a little hesitant. I feel a little guilty. Although there were people taking his picture...we didn't do that. Sorry Blake, if we bugged you ! Just letting my boy have a moment to remember. Blake, you're like a God to my boys! I hope you can feel the honor of that. Oh, and Benneteau was there.

And others. LORDY! Here is the deal. Moya is freakily hot and tall and fantastic. It's like a comic book hero come to life. He makes you dizzy. And the same can be said for Safin. I mean, why does God make people like him? It seems strange and mysterious, like God's other things that he does, like let there be war and shit and make some women have really amazing breasts while other don't.

Off to watch tennis! It's a bit overcast, I hope there is no rain delay.

LATER:
I walked by Wawrinka on the way to the nail salon to see if I could find someone to paint my toes. No luck. But the worst luck was that it rained for THREE HOURS so we c ame back to the hotel. Tomorrow is our last day. Let's pray for good weather and also, if today's matches get really backed up, tomorrow's back courts will be hopping with big stars as they try to squeeze in lots of matches. As of now, I am feeling sad, wet, and cold. But I just ran a hot bath and maybe I'll trot around the lobby, innocently, and see who I can see...

Yours Truly,
Paula

Day Two, Roger Cup 2008

We are back. I'm exhausted. We stayed in the stadium court much longer than we usually do. That is because- the first match was Moya, who I LUV, v. Haas. Moya played like he never had a chance. I still can't figure out why. But- Haas kindly signed all the kids' balls- including, of course, Rockytoad and Cheesewad's balls. Then, Roddick took the court and my sons love Roddick so we stayed. (I prefer trawling the back courts.) The match was marred with some rain delay. But mostly, it was ruined by Roddick's attitude. Why? WHY? His rudeness to the chair was something else. And then, Mahut, played so well. My hopes were up. An upset! But no. Then, Roddick became the only man, the entire day, who didn't sign the ball for one child. Not one. That basically explains Roddick's entire personality. Not many people lose and sign balls. But to win? And to not sign one ball? Well, you have to be Roddick to make that choice.

The best match by far was Andreev v. Monfils. What fantastic young men!! Such great great tennis. Rockytoad and I were freaked out by Andreev's forehand. Nothing is wierder. More spin, more action, more raquet head acceleration. I think about the matches I've seen-- I think about the times I've seen Nadal, up close, years ago, on a practice court. But Andreev? It's UNIQUE. The wiederst, nastiest shot I've seen. BUT- unpredictable. Errors, yes. And NO ONE fights like Monfils. By far, the best best match today. Just fantastic tennis from both men. Oh, and of course, Andreev signed balls. All of them. Because he's a man.

Back at the hotel, we rode the lift up with Erlich, the doubles specialist. Very smiley and sweet (we never bother the guys at the hotel, for the most part, just are grateful to be in their presence.) Then, on the elevator down to the fantastic restaurant, we - literally -- bumped into Clement. HOT. Although, I fear he is shorter than me. Oh well. I hate being tall. Also, when was the last time he shaved? He's still hot. And he smiled at ME? Oh, that's because I'm with two cute little ones.

Other sightings today:
Donald Young, in the golf cart, being driven away. I said (loudly, let it be known)- "How'd you do?" He looked up, and nodded his head, no. WAAH. But, I'm sure he fought hard. A second later, we saw a cart with an icy looking Giles Simon, the man who beat Young. Rockytoad said, "It doesn't look like he just won a match." Which was true. He looked- cold as ice, like in the song. Sort of handsomey French, too.

And, one must always talk about the cab ride home. We had a very nice African-Canadian man, who played the news radio so loudly it was distorted. We heard Obama in the US talking about his Middle East policy, we heard that the Batman star, Christiam Bale, is in trouble with the law. But I forgot the thing I wanted to share with you. Maybe I'll remember tomorrow.

Great great day. I'm brain damaged from all the tennis.

MORE:
We watched Verdasco in the Granstand, too. But not for long. This is because he was losing to Bolelli. And even though I worship the ground he walks on, and he had a great turquoise shirt and orange shorts outfit, super hottt, he was behaving a little princessy for my taste. I've seen others out on that court behave worse - Haas, Moya, even. It's loud. But Verdasco even had his hand on his hip and waited a looong time before continuing play. It seemed he was upset about people at the very top who were standing up and facing away from him, away from the court, and looking down at another court below. Now, this is a honorable tradition, sitting at the very top and looking below. So, Verdasco, you were wrong to be annoyed. Also, they were chatting. Maybe a bit loudly. But letting that stuff get to you is what makes you lose the match!!! That said, I would rub your sore feet and tell you all of this nicely and I don't hold it against you, really. I can't! I head your facebook fan group! I love you! (BTW- he went on the win the next two sets, after losing the first one 6.1!!!! Well, I gave up on you too early, Fernando. Sorry.)

Yours truly,
Paula

The Rogers Cup 2008, The Canadian Open

I am on the train with Rockytoad and Cheesewad, my two tennis miniatures. In fact, I am on a train that is on the border, right on the border, of Canada and the United States. Now, this is year four of my yearly sojourn to the Canada Open. I like the Canada Open because it is a Masters, so all the big guys are here, but it is only a week long , unlike the big two weeker Slams, and so the early round matches ROCK. It's cheaper - a lot cheaper- than the US Open. I stay at a hotel, which means-- Room Service, my Man!

So, here is the beginning of my trip: First the US Customs people came on the train. They consisted of three really broad shouldered HOT dudes in uniforms. Big guys. Intimidating. A good thing for their job. I was prepared. That is because once, I was not prepared. Once, I came to Canada spontaneously, with my minis, on an overnight Greyhound bus. At the border, I was harassed endlessly. They thought I was trying to illegally steal my children from my husband. It was humiliating and stressful and THEN- it was funny!!!! We laugh now. At the time, it sucked ass.

So now I have a signed fancy letter from the husband stating I may travel over the border with my sons. Anyway, every time since that awful first time, the trip has been different and better. I show them my tickets to the event -- they like that. That way, they don't think you are going there to sell stuff illegally or do something else bad.

After the big hot dudes left -bye bye guys! (this was, of course, after they pulled me aside and said, "Hey, you, we need to strip search you," and I said, "No! NO! I'm just going to the tennis event!" And they said, "What tennis event? Come here. NOW." And I, weak-kneed, followed them into this tiny little dark room at the back of the train....)

Then the Canadian Customs came on. They had a dog that sniffed around. He took something out of my handbag! I thought, maybe I had a candy bar? NOOO! It was my wallet!!! The lady said, "He smelled currency, Good doggy!" That's right, people carry large bags of cash over the border occasionally and - it's illegal!! So dogs smell for cash. I learned something new today and it's always good to learn something new.

Now, they took some poor family off of the train. I heard the man saying something about, " a mistake with the knives." Now, I'm telling you all this, but really, Amtrak is perfectly respectable. Yes, the bathrooms smell insanely badly. But it's respectable, people, it is. That bus ride where they thought I was stealing my kids from my husband? The overnight "milk run" that stopped every forty minutes, in every town? That lands on the border at 5am? That, people, was a bit direputable. But hey, I planned that one last minute- it was the only way to go.

Anyway, I'm still here, forty minutes later. I think it's the knives people that are holding everyone up. Oh man! I think we are leaving soon! Woo hoo! Toronto, here we come.

I'm staying at the player hotel. We don't "stalk" them. We just are near them. See them up close, overhear conversations. It's all good fun.

Tomorrow, I'll be at the event ALL DAY. And then, I'll hopefully let you know how things went.

Oh, we almost missed the train this morning, too. I had cleaned out my handbag- nice clean handbag for the trip- and one thing I did was shake the handbag over the garbage to get rid of all the crumbs. (Ah, I keep snacks in my purse. That's really quite normal, really!) Now, this morning, I couldn't find my car keys. And I looked. And looked. And started to freak out. And twenty minutes later I was screaming and cursing. Then I called a car service. I was gonna pay him 300 bucks to take me to Syracuse, where I was catching the train. Then, I decided to look through the garbage. I was digging my hands through wet, stinky coffee grinds and cereal goo and God knows what else, waiting for the cab, and I see my car key cuddled up next to the garbage can. IT all came flooding back, the purse shaking (I hadn't thought about that whilst searching). I ran out and we got in the car and I drove 75 miles an hour the whole way. The train was running late. We were fine. Except, I feel badly for the cab driver. I left some cash in an envelope. I did that cause I felt badly. But what I didn't do, is lock my front door. Which, uh, sucks. I plan on calling a neighbor.

In fact, in some ways, the beginning of this trip sucked ass as badly as the beginning of the trip where the border Customs people harassed me for over half an hour thinking I was trying to steal my children. It just sucked in a slightly different way- like it was all my fault sort of way. But, here we are, just about to be in Toronto....


LATER:
We are checked in. Food has been delivered. Tipsarevic lost and that makes me very angry. Also, they are not showing the Lopez/Stepanak match anywhere on the Telly. ALSO- tehy put me in a smoking room and say they can move me tomorrow. Now, well, I know this is because of a tennis player. So. Hmm. Anyway, it's a nice room and doesn't stink, but I hate moving rooms. Perhaps I'll stay. Also, I was thinking of the peeps who could be on this floor. Rafa and Feli's coach, whose name escapes me (not Uncle Tony, but the guy who comes when Uncle Tony can't make every event) -- he smokes. So does Ivan Luby's coach. So does Novak Dkokovic's mother!! Maybe this will be a fun floor to be on!!! That said, I may do the room change tomorrow.

I'd love to hear about any other players and their peeps who smoke! For instance, I remember about Olivier Mutis smoking right before his match before he beat Roddick at the French years ago. But Mutis is not here. He doesn't fly.

Yours truly,
Paula

Rafael Nadal wins Wimbledon 2008

First, doubley extra thanks to Rowan for his great post about Jelena! Rowan, you rock!

OH MY GOD!!!!!!! Rafael Nadal beat Federer on grass!!!!!!!! I am so happy for him. I like Roger Federerer, but I like Rafa a tiny bit more. Well, maybe even more that a tiny bit. It really isn't that big of a surprise, because he beat him so thoroughly at the French and even though the clay is different, the whomping that Rafa gave him must have given him confidence. And, more importantly, the last two years he has come so close to beating him on the grass. AND- he won the Queens club. AND- AND -AND!! He's a great tennis player. So, even if I don't find it surprising, I do find it awesome and it is a HUGE deal for Rafa, a huge deal for Spanish tennis- the last guy to win Wimby from Spain was- who? when?- not sure. Or if ever. I would love to hear from anyone who has that info.

I got in last night from my vacation. I had both finals taped. I watched the great tennis of the Williams sisters. I had SIX HOURS taped for the men. I did not get to see the whole match. This morning, I was feeling sad, confused and, honestly, hungover. I was sad to not have seen the whole match. BUT!!!!!! I am trying to focus on the positive and just be happy for RAFA!

Also, I feel the need to mention that Rockytoad and I spoke and he is sad for the Rog, who has not won a Grand Slam this year. And he said, I hope Rog wins The US Open. And, I might agree with Rockytoad on that one. I like Rog. I feel for him, too. I heard that he was really bummed in the post match interview. So, that sucks. Being bummed sucks. And I heart Rockytoad for being a feeling, compassionate person, which is the way to be in this world.

Soon, there will be lots of great hard court tennis.

Also, in a few weeks, I am going to Toronto to see the Masters LIVE! Not for the whole week, but still.
Yours Truly,
Paula

So The Drama

Hi, Rowan here. Paula is on holiday in the sunny Caribbean so I’m having a go at the guest blogging thing again. I’m about to go on holiday myself, to chilly Tauranga. Happy holidays everybody.

How about that Wimbledon huh? Worth staying up for. Lots of upsets, no Serbs in the quarterfinals, who woulda thunk it? Actually Nenad Zimonjic is still representing in the doubles, good on him. I’ve been thinking about Jelena Jankovic, and how she is such a total drama queen. But she isn’t an obnoxious, horrible drama queen. She is a loveable, funny, awesome drama queen. Sure, she carries on a lot, but that’s what makes JJ so much fun. Jelena loves attention, loves the camera, and loves being out on court. After her loss to Tamarine Tanasugarn in the fourth round, JJ revealed that she was less than thrilled about having to play the match on lowly Court 18. “I was almost playing in the parking lot,” she announced in her post match interview. “I almost need a helicopter to go to my court.” The woman is a star, people!

One thing about Jelena Jankovic is that she is always injured. Every match, out comes the trainer. Nobody sells their injuries as dramatically as JJ. She winces, she limps, she makes a scene. In the second set of her third round match Jelena got her left leg wrapped up. She called the trainer back in the third set to undo the bandages, fearing for her circulation. “Look, look, look, it’s blue!” Jelena cried. After the match she said something like, “If I can’t move, it’s hard to play.” So true.

Sometimes people get fed up with JJ’s on-court antics and suggest that her histrionics cross the lines of sportsmanship, or sportswomanship. Like how she’ll be struggling to stand on her blue leg between points, but then she’ll move with the speed and grace of a hungry cheetah during an important rally. I don’t know if Jelena plays up her injuries with gamesmanship in mind, I just think she is that kind of person, the kind who makes a scene about everything. If she stubbed her toe while shopping she would shriek and carry on and sit down and someone would bring her a plaster. She’s just an over-the-top kind of girl. May she never change.

I AM FAR AWAY FROM MY TV.....

And this is the bad thing. The good thing is I am on a beautiful beach on the Carribean...

Rowan, if you are out there and want to guest blog, please do!!! Soon, I will try and find a TV, but it´s hard. Computers are easier to find!! But, honestly, I am on the beach A LOTTT!!!

Yours Truly,
Paula