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
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