Dootsie’s Theory of Everything – PART III
IMITATION OF OVARY-BUSTING GORGENOUS
OVARY-BUSTING GORGEOUSNESS IMITATED.
I remember mocking Francesca’s finals win/loss record in Osaka last year, which was something along the lines of 1-14. At the time, I thought of her as the epitome of an imploder, perennially unable to seize an opportunity that presents itself. For the most part, I still think it was an accurate assessment then.
And now? Let me tell you a little story that may or may not be true:
Once upon a time, Dootsie was terrified of public speaking. I still am, deep down. But there was a definitive turning point once when I stood in front of a lectern with a speech on “WORLD PEACE” or something equally latte-sipping-leftist. I froze for 10 seconds without speaking. As anyone with a fear of public speaking would know: 10 years of solitary confinement feels preferable to living through those 10 seconds. I was punched in the ovaries by fear, by cold sweat, by the need to pee, by every second ticking away like a time bomb threatening to blow up and humiliate me in front of some VERY-IMPORTANT-PEOPLE.
Eventually, I took a breath so deep it hurt and told myself to “GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER NAOOO!”. I opened my palm towards the audience and began to speak. I killed it. It felt like fuck-yeah.
When I look at Francesca Schiavone these days, that is the person I see. Someone who froze: again and again and again. But she kept putting herself in finals, prolonging the tortuous process until one day, ONE FINE DAY! She broke through, and she broke through at one of the biggest tournaments in the world like a butterfly out of a cocoon. For the first time, I saw the spirit behind the freeze and to shout my own mantra from the rooftops “WHAT HAS BEEN SEEN CANNOT BE UNSEEN.” It matters not that she lost to Venus today in a highly entertaining, rollercoaster match, Franny found out the same thing I had discovered once upon a time, standing in front of a lectern with a speech on my kind of latte-sipping world peace: we had unfrozen.
It feels like fuck-yeah.
As for Venus? My first love in tennis is in the semifinal of a slam-not-named-Wimbledon once more. The last time she played the semifinal of the US Open, she played another Belgian – Justin Henin – in one of my favourite WTA matches of the last decade. Who says it needs to go to a deciding set to be epic?
And regarding the dresses that seem to generate so much talk: the point is, you’re all talking about them. That’s fashion. I’d rather that than bland generic dish-outs from – ahem – certain clothing companies with absolutely no thought or attempt at creativity.
Actually, I’d rather Venus Williams win. Period. Dresses be damned.