Rogers Cup Pix - and Forgive Me I Drove 350 Miles Today

RR Here -

Here come some pictures from our last day at the Rogers Cup - yesterday. The commentary is gonna be a little thin and spacey - long drive home. Fried. Vodka. Fried vodka? Mmm... that would be good.

For starters, here's Murray, on a practice court. The little guys got his autograph. He's nicened up since the days when he cursed out ball kids in Binghamton... BTW that's his doubles partner

being ignored whilst like, kneeling at his feet. Prince Andy. Actually he was very nice with the signing etc.

This next one is Youzhny - as noted, P and the little guys rode with him in the elevator, and he was at this sort of hidey t

able at breakfast. I like Youzhny. I use his racket, because of him, and Gasquet.

Here he is winding up his forehand, but it's his beautiful one-hand backhand that I like. This is from the match he lost, but we later figured out he's still in the doubles. Go Youzhny!

And this is of course David, whilst crushing Tommy Robredo. We just saw him crush Soderling in the 3rd as well. YEAH! BTW Cheesewad took all these shots. We are going to get him a better cam

era for his next birthday - he's good!

Next up is Max Mirnyi. We didn't even know he was still around?? He looks fierce here, but really he was really nice. Also, huge and really impressive. He was practicing with someone (his coach?), and he'd serve, and his coach wouldn't even try to return it, just feed a fake return, because, his serve is like a giant thunderbolt from heaven. (We just watched "Clash of the Titans"). Also, I have a bunch of Belarusan buddies these days, so - check it out Max Mirnyi!

Last of all, the ladies' choice - Fernando Verdasco. I always think, "Fernandoo", as some French lady called him the first time I went to Toronto. This was from the Chardy match P has already blogged on. He hung tough and won that first set, and we had to go. I am surprised he lost, he looked like the big guy beating up on skinny-ass Chardy. Tennis is weird, and that's why it's fun. Who the hell knows? Anyway, Fernando is still the ladies choice.

All right, I'm done. One more vodka, and lights out.

RR out

Day Three, Rogers Cup 2010, And the Last Morning in the Hotel

We just had our fourth and final breakfast at the hotel. Youzhny sat behind us, in a little corner, trying to hide out. I did not bother him, although last night when we- the boys and I- rode the elevator up with him, I said, "I'm sorry about your loss today, I was rooting for you" and he said, "that's OK". Then I said, "You'll win next time", and he said, "Maybe". Then it was his floor, and he sort of semi smiled and said, "bye" and I said "bye" very quietly and sort of coyish. Youshny is a big, strong, handsome- also just CUTE- Russian player. He had a lovely Russian accent. He's taller than me. And strong. He lost to this Ukrainian guy, Dolgopolov, who had the misfortune of wearing a headband and tying his hair back into a bun and Rockytoad in particular did not like it. Youzhny has a flat top. Anyway, I felt badly for Youzhny, because he won the first set 6/1 and we watched him lose a tight second set in a tiebreak. Sigh. Tennis. Life. Losses. I did find out Youzhny won his doubles, so that is great.

Also at breakfast this morning was Victor Hanescu and his hitting partner or whatever you want to call him- how bout, some big strong HOT dark haired Romanian friend of Hanescu, who I had the great pleasure of riding the elevator with yesterday. Hanescu is at least 6'4 and incredibly strong and - much cuter in real life than on TV as is often- but not always -- the case. Sam Querry- a sort of giantesqe man, who lost his match against Kevin Anderson yesterday--was also at breakfast. I do not find him attractive in the least. And lastly, and perhaps most funly, Verdasco's mom and dad came into the restaurant. The mother went to the buffet and I watched her- most curiously- put something like five croissants on a plate. I immediately thought- she's going to put some of those in her purse to take with her. I mean, who eats fiver croissants?? As Rick Rock and I were leaving, we saw the waitress hovering over the Verdasco's table, and no one seemed pleased. I think they were getting harassed about the croissants or something ridiculous like that. I guess the whole thing about a buffet is you can eat as much as you want, but there is sort of this unsaid thing- you may not fill your purse with things from the buffet.

Then Rick Rock went to the car for a minute and I rode the elevator with- Almagro and his coach. I was nervous and barely looked up. His coach did say, upon entering, "going up"? I said, "yes". Almagro is fucking HOT. He is not that much taller than me, though. Almagro got off at 13, and then the coach got off at like, 21, and he looked at me and said, "bye".

I have this thing- I think I may have better luck with getting nailed by a coach instead of a player. Like, you know, how Rock chick groupies bang the roadies instead of the rock stars? Anyway, or- maybe I could get my hands on one of the hitting partners? Sheesh. That Romanian dude who had breakfast with Hanescu was movie star gorgeous if movie stars were actually gorgeous instead of like, 5 foot 6 with abnormally large heads who rely largely on stunt doubles to make them look manly. ( This may not be true of every movie star, but I have walked by Tom Cruise and, um, yeah.)

All that said, we watched absolute buckets of amazing tennis yesterday. We watched a bit of the aforementioned Youzhny match out on a small court, then we sat right up front and watched my favorite player in the universe of God, Nalbandian, destroy poor Tommy Robredo. Nalby was so on fire, so unbelievable- Robredo was not playing badly, it's just that Nalby gave him NO chance. It was a very different match than the day before when we watched him play Ferrer. Nably gave Tommy a bagel in the second set. The boys got his autograph. They also got Davydenko's autograph as he left the court before Nalby went on. Oh! And we got to watch Andy Murray on a practice court- God he's a cutie--and the boys got his autograph!

Then we went to the main stadium and watched the DRAMA of Djokovic as he pulled out a very tight match against Benneteau. I've seen it on TV, but I have never seen Nole up close in real life like this, playing tennis that is, as I did see him up close in Montreal and chatted with him when Cheesewad was very young and ran off as he so sweetly asked him if he played tennis. Also, that time in Montreal (the year he won it), we watched him play doubles on a back court and the boys got his autograph. Anyway, the man looked MISERABLE yesterday. He has some serious problems with the heat. It's not an act, it's not because he's not fit- some people cannot handle high temperatures. He withdrew from two events earlier this year due to his breathing issues. He's not making this up! It was insanely hot- they say on the court it was close to 110 degrees--and some people get ill in this heat, others don't. Sort of like some of us have blond hair and some of us are bald. Anyway, the crowd was really rooting for him- the atmosphere was fantastic and exciting- and we had great seats and the boys really enjoyed watching the world's number 2 pull it out.

Then we went back to the grandstand, stopping along the way here and there. At this point, we were getting pretty giddy from the heat and tennis watching. We got right up front AGAIN (damn, I'm so good at it) and watched Verdasco and Jeremy Chardy. Now, on TV, Jeremy Chardy looks like an Adonis. In real life, he's very, very skinny and moody in that French way that many of the French are (not Monfils, mind you, he's super jolly and smiley) and looks like he could be a smoker or a herion addict. But GOOD LORD, he has an enormous serve, just huge, and a forehand that you can barely see the ball it moves so fast. WTF? He is so LOOSE. His limbs are like ropes being swung around, whipping through the air. It's really a sight to behold.

We didn't watch the whole match- he ended up defeating the love of my life, Fernando. But the first set- which Chardy lost in a tiebreak- was amazing tennis. Just brilliant.

At this point, it's after 5pm and Cheesewad is fading. I am too. We can no longer concentrate very well at all and I'm like, seeing spots. We decide to go watch a tiny bit of doubles before we leave. Robredo and Almagro against Stepanek and Knowles. We are in the very first row of a tiny back court. The camera is out of batteries and I keep trying to take a picture of my foot or finger with Robredo and Almagro's heads. At one point I think these ladies behind me are speaking Spanish (I speak Spanish) and then they start cheering on Stepanek and Knowles and I realize they are speaking Czech, and I know, it is time to go. My brain had reached it's capacity for tennis.

LOTS OF PICTURES TO COME!

Yours Truly,

Paula

Day Two, The Rogers Cup 2010

Well, we got there, as usual, an hour late and I didn't yell at Rick Rock even once during the drive! It was a very hot day, but we kept telling each other we can't complain because at least it wasn't raining.

David Nalbandian (link to follow), my all time favorite player of all time, was playing David Ferrer, also known lovingly around our house as the Turtle, in the main stadium. We had great seats. The sun bore down on us. We sprayed sunblock all over us and wore hats and occasionally threw a towel over our heads. It was a great three setter. Cheesewad took AMAZING photos (soon to come). I love these guys so much and Nalby was so typical- he'd break, then he'd get broken back immediately- then he'd curse like crazy. We love to listen to

Spanish curses and guess what they could be saying. Ferrer says "hostia" a lot, which means "Holy Ghost". It's a very bad word in Spanish. Once, we're pretty sure we heard Nalbandian say "Puta Vieja" which means "old whore" and is also a bad word, or phrase. He said that after he made an error, and it may have gone like, "I just hit that ball like an OLD WHORE", and so it was sort of that thing where he screamed out the

end words of his muttering to himself.

Here are some pictures. This is RR and Minis (oops forgot not to call them that):

Here is RR and the minis, who I must call- the boys? The Boys. They are not very mini anymore. Sigh. We are about to watch Nalby and Ferrer. The two Davids. We had many moments where I'd scream "Vamos David" and one of the boys would say, "which David? (Ferrer and Nalby are both David). So then I said to the boys, "Vamos los dos Davides?" (Go both Davids?) And that was not greeted well by the boys, so I never yelled it.

Before the Davids played, we watched Berdych beat this guy, Stakhovsky. It was rather quick. Yet-

Good God Berdych is hot.

NALBANDIAN.

I may fill out this post with lots of more stuff. But I'm moving toward the end of our evening here. We were watching Monfils who was supposed to play Gonzalez, but he withdrew, so he played this Indian guy Devvarman. At that

point, we'd been watching tennis for Six hours in the sun. We were fried. I drank a million iced teas, and yet, I was failing mentally, due to the heat, the hot men, the hot air, the watching hours of tennis. We were right up front, and it was an amazing match. But we were all - fading. It was a tight match, Monfils is so fucking hot, but we were getting goofy. Some of the line calls were questionable. I got a bit huffy, I said, "no that was good". Or I said, "see that was out, like I thought". Rick Rock started with his opinions. He said, "You were right." (There was no shot spot or whatever you want to call it, so lots of opinions bandied about). Then RR said, "you were right" (to me), you should call those lines." Then Monfils hit a ball into the net. And RR said, "I'll call them when they go into the net!" He was really excited about this job. So, his job was to go, "that was in the net!" like it was a call. So then we started to a laugh so hard it was hard to not be problematic. Then we started to fall apart altogether. Every time someone hit it into the net, RR would look all bug eyed at me and say, "That was into the net!" And then I would start snarfing ice tea. Mind you, I was sunburned and tired. And then we started laughing so hard, well, the boys were embarrassed. So - Monfils won the first set, it was after 6pm, and we left.

Oh, on the way to the Monfils match, I was walking alongside all sorts of people, with my boys. And I looked to my right, and I was walking, meandering, next to this man I recognized. He was very handsome, tall and incredibly strong. I thought I recognized him. Heat stroke was effecting my brain, so I turned ( he was, like, Right, next to me) and said "are you someone's coach?" And then he started with, "well, I blabla" and I interrupted him and said, "You are Killer Cahill!" And he smiled, not a big smile, mind you, and said, "Yes". And I said, as we meandered along to where we both were going, "You're great, we love your commentary". And he said, "Thank you". And then we parted ways. He did smile. Also, Killer Cahill? At least 6'3. Hot. Maybe Fifty years old, I don't know. Strong as shit. HOT. I now love Killer Cahill. Food for thought, he is, that Aussie Man.

More soon. More Pictures!

Yours Truly,

Paula

World Peace Through Tennis, Rain, The Cazalets, Feliciano Lopez, Rain, The Chairs

Yesterday was a great day one and a disappointing day one. It was great because it started out with the minis (although this will be the last time I call them that, as Rockytoad is six foot one now, I have no idea how that happened, maybe a Martian came and stole my son and like, tried to replace him with something sort of like my son, but got the size wrong, except that when I say that to Rocktoad, when I say, "What happened to my son? Who are you? Someone abducted my son!, he says, "I AM your son", so I don't know. Martians can be devious, I think) running into Berdych on the way to breakfast at the hotel. He's a very impressive athlete- I have run into him in previous years. Then, I only yelled at Rick Rock twice or so on the drive to the stadium. Then, we walked around, getting our bearings and decided to watch a bit of Tommy Robredo and the Finn, Nieminen. The tennis was so amazing and we were right up front in the Grandstand. Tommy Robredo is HOT. Then, I noticed on the program that on tiny Court One, Murray and some other Brit were to play doubles against Monfils and Kohlshreiber!!!!!

So we went over to Court One. We watched the end of Benneteau and Istomin (from Uzbekstan, big guy, young, handsome and I wanted him to win, as he was the underdog, and I always feel for the players from places like Uzbekestan, plus he gave off a good vibe) and I must say, Benneteau beat him handily, which was great- even if I liked Istomin for different reasons-- as we wanted to watch the upcoming doubles match. (Oh, and I said to Rick Rock, "Is that Carlos Bernardi in the chair?" He said, "why yes!" He isa very good chair and we feel super geeked out when we know the chairs...) Court One filled up with lots of overspill. Then the stars came! It was all very exciting. They warmed up. We felt sort of sorry for Ross Hutchins, Murray's partner, as he is not really in the same league as the other players.

Anyway, the whole thing made me think of these books I'm reading, The Cazalet Chornicles (lots of links to come when I revise, people), which takes place during WWII. I mean, A Frenchman and a GERMAN playing together, in harmony! Now, on the other side, we have England, all united together, wearing cute matching outfits. But in my books, France was conquered by Germany and then England fights them, and the whole world is a terrible mess beyond all comprehension, harder to understand than like, why Mars is red and cold. The books are sad, or worse. So- to see these countries all on a court together hitting a little green ball around, not to mention being all handsome and sexy and young and full of life- sheesh. Tennis promotes world peace. That is all I can say. World Peace Through Tennis! I was moved. Also, Monfils and Murray are super hot.

Then is rained.

While it poured rain, I shopped. Stella McCartney makes tennis clothes. Some of it is very pretty. Some of it is entirely impractical and I sort of wonder if she actually givesa flying fuck about tennis. I think she may just like fashion I bought a tiny little skirt that I plan to wear, not necessarily while playing tennis. Maybe while watching tennis. Not sure. Maybe while pole dancing at my part time job as a stripper. Or maybe while hanging out with my other twelve year old girlfriends in the seventh grade just like me, after we leave our Greenwich Country Day school for the club where one must where all whites, where we take private lessons with a pro named something like, "Ross Huntington".

When the rain stopped and we'd scarfed down hot dogs, we rushed back to the doubles match on court one, but alas, we were too late. There was no room whatsover. So- Poor Us- we went over to the Grandstand, sat right up front and watched Feliciano Lopez and De Bakker. I HAD EYE CONTACT WITH FELI. I love him. He is beautiful. He is a bit mournful and less prissy I think, since he knocked up Miss Spain or whoever she is or maybe that's gossip. They warmed up. They started to play. We all watched in awe- two amazing tennis players. During the sit down, which happened feet from my face, Feli would pour water all over his head and rub his hair down and give it a shake. I was reminded of gazelles in the wilds of Africa, running through the open fields, the rain making their hides glisten. I also wanted to go and do that, pour water on his head and - run my hand over his head afterward. Oh, and Fergus something or other was in the chair! I will say- a couple of bad calls he did not overrule. Hm. I like his Irishy accent though. The camera was on Feli THE WHOLE TIME. Not once on poor de Bakker, but de Bakker is having a breakout year, so that's one good thing. Also, the stadium was full of lots of pretty girls wearing off the shoulder shirts and high heels and make up and RR and I called it "Hoooker Stadium". That's what Feli brings out in the world, a stadium full of scantily dressed young women.

Then it rained. We came in third place in the contest of "who can stay out in the rain the longest".

Off to Day TWO!!!!! So many good matches. I'm feeling all jittery.

Yours Truly,

Paula

HI! We are at the Rogers Cup - Here are some pictures

RR here -

That's right, we may be crappy bloggers lately but... well but nothing. Anyway we are in Toronto at the Rogers Cup, and here are some pictures - thanks mostly to Cheesewad who is the main photographer.

This is Tommy. He is good at tennis. We had some rain (more later) but he was able to

complete his match against Neimenen. Victoriously. He looks kind of fierce in this picture. RAR!

Down below (I hope - getting things to lay out right is... weird) is Jarko - defeated, but still Finnish. A great action shot by Cheesewad! We watched the end of the match peering over the back of the bleachers from a different court, as we waited for Murray/Hunt and

Monfils/Kohlschreiber to start.

Alas, it was not to be - at least not for us, due to the rain. More on which later.

Here is a shot of that whole crew taking to the court. But as soon as they finished the warm-up, rain fell upon us, like wolves upon sheep. What? Cheese took a shot of Murray's mom, who was there, but I can't remember which camera/phone it is on. No other Moms were present, to my knowledge.

OK gonna try to put in another pic -the layout is getting very hairy....

The next match we caught a decent chunk of involved this man, who some consider to be

handsome. He was playing De Bakker, a fine Dutch tennis player who is perhaps less handsome. We sometimes make jokes about Dutch people, I admit it. But it's ok, because I am mostly of Dutch ancestry. My middle name is Riker, like Riker's island! Er, where I have never been. But someday I will go there and reclaim my birthright!

We saw 5 games of fine big-serving tennis from these two, before this happened: Rain. Lots of

it. Rainy rain, raining from the sky. We had a contest with the person in this picture, and a few others, to see who would sit in the rain the longest. We came in third.

And that is all for tonight. We went out to see some friends in Toronto, and it is kind of late. Hopefully better blogging tomorrow. P actually took (awesome) notes in her little black book. So soon...

We'll be back out there tomorrow morning, and the weather should be good.

RR out