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Picket Fence Laureate: Oh yeah … one of these again …

They said the rivalry was an at end,

And Federer was on a downward trend,

Against Rafa, he played only once this year,

Which ended with Dootsie shedding a tear,

So last night when Roger stepped out on court,

To be honest, I  was a little distraught.


Needlessly, ’cause Fed had brushed aside the field,

With sharpened tools and lethal shots to wield.

Against Djoko he was simply sublime,

So good it was illegal, he was committing a crime!

But Rafael Nadal is a different beast,

And had Fed’s number, to say the least.


But Fed came out playing like sex on fire,

With fiendish forehands and volleys to inspire.

His backhand whip was so splendiforous

That Dootsie’s lady tubes sang a chorus:

And what shoulder, and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?


But Rafa responded, you shall not pass!

Expect nothing less from a player of his class.

And Fed was rattled, he was unnerved,

Under 30% for the whole set he served,

Nadal soon got himself a break,

The match was now anyone’s to take.




By Now, Doots was feeling quite sober,

Surely he’s lost. Surely it’s over?!

But Fed regrouped and played with conviction,

His wanted this victory and vindication.

40-15 became breakpoint instead,

“Watch him shank it!” Doots cried with dread.


But all converted, Fed sailed on with relief,

So much for my lack of belief,

Match point soon came with a forehand mishit,

Was it in? Did it catch the line a bit?

Time froze still, then melted into a smile,

As Roger roared and celebrated in style.



But even as we rejoiced and cheered,

Our “Esteemed Media” stood back and jeered.

‘Poor Rafa,’ they said, ‘he was oh-so-tired.

Look at all the shots he misfired!’

To party poopers I say “IN YOUR FACE!

Why can’t you concede with a little grace?


As much as I like to whinge and snark,

To shout from rooftops in the dark,

Nothing appeases me and gives me more bliss,

Than the cries of joy from fans of the Swiss,

With you I’ve shared this emotional year,

And grown to hold all of you dear.


Some tough losses we’ve had to endure,

But deep down, I know our faith is sure.

In my head, I imagine a curious scene,

Where we’re all screaming in front of our screen,

Because despite living worlds apart,

The same man tugs the strings of our heart.



xx doots

Year-End Wrap Pt 4: I’m Dr freakin’ Seuss, y’all!

I. US Open Series

After Wimby, we headed to the States,
To see for whom victory awaits,
In July, Mirka gave birth to twins
And Roger walked around with silly grins. 
While Querrey was winning and leading the way,
To Canada they all headed, without delay.

Montreal saw the return of Rafa,
In a world where he’s no longer the male alpha,
While Roger appeared rusty and jaded
In the third set against Tsonga, he simply faded. 
On the other hand, Murray was all smooth sailing,
He won the title, while del Potro was ailing.



Cincy was next on the road trip calendar
While the number 2 spot Murray did plunder.
In the semi, he faced the Mighty Fed
Against whom, he led the head-to-head.
But Roger came out with a point to prove
And winning the title, he found his groove.

The girls saw the return of Mama Kim,
A well-planned comeback, it wasn’t a whim. 
While Jankovic was winning with a smile
Her flowing tennis was amiss for a while
In Toronto, a title Dementieva did claim.
For the Open, it could be anyone’s game.



II. Open

Mama Kim was New York’s crowd fave,
For her post-natal comeback was very brave
Against Venus, her form see-sawed
But for once, she was calm and not overly-awed

Focused and driven, Kim fought on,
Tougher battles she had won
Through to the semi, she faced Serena
Prime time in front of a pack arena.

Surprisingly Serena was prone to error,
While Kim showed no signs of nerves or terror.
With solid ground strokes and amazing speed,
Clijsters quickly got into the lead. 

 A set, 5-6 , Serena had a foot fault
As she launched into a verbal assault 
We knew it was over, Serena was smote
The minute she threatened to shove balls in a throat.

 In the final, Kim started slow
As Caroline quickly got in a flow
But Kim herself was able to steady
Deep down, she knew that she was ready.

 With a straight-sets win, she knelt to the ground
Her spectacular comeback did dumbfound
Those thinking she couldn’t win another slam
 Or that her first one was a bit of a sham.

As she ran to her hubby to steal a kiss
The look on Kim’s face was simply bliss
“Comeback of the year!” we all did hail
A perfect end to a fairy tale.



III. Final

The grisly Argentine did not tango,
But his groundstrokes still had this certain flow
That could’ve flattened any old town,
Only he was faced with the ruling Crown –

Roger Federer, most revered in this sport
When he moves, his feet caresses the court
Like a blind man’s gentle, knowing fingers
As he moves to strike, poetry lingers. 



Will and grace, heart and art
Was the duel that these two took part.
Blow after blow they threaded the needle
Fearless was the boy against his idol.

Through 5 whole sets, Juan believed he can
Take it to Federer. From boy to man. 
At last, victory! He sank to the ground
Juan emerged through the final round.

Five US Opens have come to pass,
As Roger conceded with dignified class 
Through tears of joy, Juan kissed the sky,
Out of the cocoon, flew a butterfly.

Year-End Wrap Pt 3: Citius. Altius. Fortius.


Wimby is Roger’s favourite tourny,
And as always, his outfits were a little corny.
But Roger had momentum under his wings,
So he cared not for a few gold blings. 
With Rafa’s withdrawal, draw looked easier,
And Federer’s tennis was certainly breezier.

Less breezy was the path for Roddick,
For he came to win and not to frolic.
With huge improvements in his game,
And his eyes glinting with a new flame.
Randy beat Mandy, the local hero,
To be in the final to face the Maestro. 

The two had faced each other before,
And Federer had won 17 times more.
So we thought Andy had exhausted his run
And Wimby was Federer’s to be won. 
But Andy came out guns a-blazing,
Set on doing some hell-raising.

Four hours later, the end had neared,
The men in the crowd had grown a beard. 
At some point there had to be a winner
Cos Dootsie’s hair was growing a lot thinner.
But no one expected it to be over so quick
16-14, Fed defeated Roddick.

As Roger leapt in joy and surprise
Andy looked up into the skies
The title was almost his for the taking
And now he’s left, broken and aching.
So we all gave him one loud cheer,
And told ourselves he’d be back next year.

One the girls side, Venus was divine
She knows Wimbledon is her time to shine
And shine she did, she didn’t lose a set
Going into the final, she was the surest bet.
But Serena had come with a mission,
She was determined to win the competition.

Then Rena and Demmy played a semi so fierce
That it brought Dootsie to the brink of tears.
Demmy gave it all her heart and soul
But couldn’t break down Serena’s control.
Inevitably in the final, Serena was on fire
And we saw the end of the Venus Empire. 

So Wimbledon had been fought and won
And Federer was back at Number One
 Serena had two slams to boast
While Venus’s form looked like toast.
So how will they perform in the USA?
I’ll get to that, after a short delay.  

Year-End Wrap Pt 2: Dirt. Bloody Dirt.

The red dirt has always been good to Spain,
With the clay courts under Rafa’s reign.
The King of Clay looked right at home,
With titles in Monte Carlo and Rome
Meanwhile, Roger was making babies,
And marrying Mirka – it pleased the ladies. 

For the girls, the tour rankings were a hot mess
As no one was achieving much success
In Stuttgart, Kuzzy gathered some steam
A few titles would her record redeem.
But Safina won Madrid and was on a roll
To make the French Open her winning goal.

Meanwhile Madrid was Fed’s last chance
To win a title before the slam in France
To the final, Roger managed to sneak through
As Rafa and Nole staged Waterloo
4 hours of brilliance through which they battled
Rafa won, but both players were rattled. 

In the final, Roger was sublime
While many shots Rafa did mistime.
As Fed won his first title of the year
He went to Paris with momentum at his rear
But no one thought the dynamics would change
Roland Garros was still in Rafa’s range.



Yet Soderling came along, with ‘tude and dimple
And made beating Rafa on clay look simple. 
With flat strokes he bludgeoned Nadal off the court 
To score the biggest upset in this sport
Suddenly Federer had a draw so hollow
That no one predicted what would follow.

Haas and del Potro threw the kitchen sink,
While Dootsie needed some Kool-Aid to drink,
But Roger survived to have one more shot
To win the only slam that he had not.
No Jimmy Jumper was going stop him,
Soon he knelt in victory, tears to the brim.

The curse of the defending champs struck twice, 
As Vika beat Ana, the crowd wasn’t nice.
But Dinara Safina was still on track
Routing her opponents with all-out attack.
To win a slam would validate her career
If she could only get over the fear.

In the final, Sveta eagerly awaited
At least, her marbles she finally located.
With calm, her opponent’s ass she was kickin’ 
As Safina asked “why am I such a chicken?” 
Match point, double fault, Dina looked lethargic
But for Sveta, another slam couldn’t be more cathartic. 

At last, Fed and Kuzzy found redemption, 
While Borg’s hex on Rafa had no exemption
 Soon we found out about Rafa’s knees
That’s why he couldn’t play with his usual ease.
So what’s to come at Wimbledon next?
Let’s talk later, I have to write the text.

Year-End Wrap Pt 1: Australia, the Musical.


They said 09 would be Murray’s year
The crafty Scot had the complete gear
His early titles sparked tall raves
In Melbourne, he and Fed were co-faves 
But out popped Nando with his fab faux-hawk
With a 5 s win, we could only gawk.

But Nando turned out to be no Cinderella
His semi against Rafa was better than paella
With gusty forehands and eye-popping spin
Five hours it took for Rafa to win 
We thought he’d be toast after a match so long,
But boy, we couldn’t have been more wrong!

In truth Roger had been playing great
The Aussies cheered him, “onya mate!”
He came into the final with plenty-a-rest
So few of us expected such a tough test
But tested he was, he served like a zombie
 In defeat Fed cried, “God it’s killing me!”



Meanwhile Dinara’s troubles were starting
As Maratski announced he was departing
The litte sis battled through to the end
Where Serena and herself for the title contend
But alas! The girl started freakin’ out
So Serena gave her a deserving rout



Rafa and Rena were sensational Down-under
While tears and breakdowns stole all their thunder 
Indian Wells and Miami soon came round,
As Bepa and Vika expectations confound
But more dramatic was Fed’s smashed racquet
Though he cared not, he just wanted to crack it. 

Roger’s losing game needed redressing
 Already, the year was becoming depressing
Critics hailed the end of an epoch
While Dootsie crawled under a rock 
What else did 09 have in store?
‘Til next time, we’ll talk some more. 

USO Laureat: For Juan Martin del Potro.


Knowing what a bipolar moron I sounded like in my last post, I thought I’d wrap up the tournament on a sweeter note. 

But instead of reporting on the match or the tournament, I decided to do it “Dootsie styled”: with a cheesy rhymes, reserved only for uber-special occasions. Yeah, del Poop. That’s for YOU.

Now GO AWAY and leave me to my despair.


As always, critique, giggle and enjoy!



An Ode to del Poop

By Dootsie


The grisly Argentine did not tango,

But his groundstrokes still had this certain flow

That could’ve flattened any old town,

Only he was faced with the game’s ruling Crown –

Roger Federer, most revered in this sport

When he moves, his feet caresses the court

Like a blind man’s gentle, knowing fingers

As he moves to strike, poetry lingers. 

Will and grace, heart and art

Was the duel that these two took part.

Blow after blow they threaded the needle

Fearless was the boy against his idol.

Through 5 whole sets, Juan believed he can

Take it to Federer. From boy to man. 

At last, victory! He sank to the ground

Juan emerged through the final round.

Five US Opens have come to pass,

As Roger conceded with dignified class 

Through tears of joy, Juan kissed the sky,

Out of the cocoon, flew a butterfly.




Image Source: Daylife

Picket Fence Laureat: not my finest work, but hey…

It’s 08/08/09, and Mirka’s hubby is celebrating his birthday. Just thought I’d commemorate the occasion in my usual cheesy way – with two epic limericks.


There’s a man called Roger from Basel

Whose tennis makes me frazzle.

He’s just turned 28

As the game’s all time great

With 15 grand slams to dazzle.


Roger’s talent is very rare

And so is his amazing hair

They said he’s in decline

But he’s risen to Cloud 9

And did so with aesthetic flair



Alright, happy birthday Roger! Hope your other presents are less corny than mine! 


The failed poet,


Picket Fence Laureate: Clearly I’ve got too much time on my hands

The Mighty Fed gave a wide-eyed hop,

At last he arrived at the ultimate stop – 

He played a fifth set without any fears,

To achieve 15 slams in 6 short years!

Under Pistol Pete’s expectant gaze,

The golden trophy was Roger’s to raise. 

Yet we must not forget it wasn’t easy,

Federer’s year sure hasn’t been breezy.

The loss in Australia had left him in tears,

His fifth set against Rafa lacked extra gears.

A sore back then kept him out of play,

So he had no titles ’til he stepped on clay. 

And who woulda thought he’d win in Spain?

With the country’s soil under Rafa’s reign.

They believed Fed’s game was in a rot,

But he had a new weapon – the droppa shot!

And with a straight sets win, his confidence soared

Roger headed to Paris for the next reward. 

At Roland Garros, few gave him a chance

With Rafa still in his clay monster trance. 

But the Yoker bludgeoned Rafa out,

The crowd cheered him on, it was quite a rout!

And Nole lost to Mister Techno

With a bagel, Murray too was Gonzo! 

Only Federer survived close shaves,

Suddenly the naysayers were giving raves:

‘It’s grit! It’s passion! It’s heart!’ they said. 

The same ones who thought the King was dead. 

With balls of steel, Fed fought with History, 

No one was going to deny him victory. 

On finals day, rain threatened to fall,

Mirka’s preggers, but sat through it all! 

6-1, 7-6, 6-4 was the score, 

As Fed sank to his knees with a roar.

His serve had pop, his droppers were clever,

JMac claimed he was the greatest ever! 

Meanwhile spare a thought for Rafa’s knees,

A smarter schedule next time, please? 

The Wimby crown he could not defend, 

But we moved on, the world did not end. 

Suddenly Fed could be Number 1 again,

With history on the line, there was much to gain. 

In London, the hype was Fed’s new jacket, 

Who cares? Roger talked with his racquet.

Federer was back to his effortless grace,

(And let’s not forget the smiley monkey face!)

In the final, we thought he’d soar,

Surely! He’s done it five times before.

But Roddick played like he had nothing to lose

While at times, Fed looked like he had no clues

But with fifty aces, he worked his magic,

To lose another epic would’ve been tragic. 

At last victory was Federer’s to savour, 

His wife didn’t have to go into labour!

 It seems like Roger had a date with fate, 

Which makes me wonder: what makes him so great? 

Many say his game is simply all class.

Monfils said it better: he’s just a pain in the ass! 

With the bub and the Cup, Fed’s on cloud 9,

But remember, ‘there is no finish line’.

For my previous work of poetry and gaiety, clickey

Images via Yahoo Eurosport UK & Ireland


I am a poet / and didn’t even know’it.


Image Credit: meetmeatmikes




Fed’s win had me so inspi’ed,

Tears of joy I almost cried.

Dootsie’s floating on cloud nine,

Her feelings can’t fit in one line.

So into poetry did she foray

Who knew rhymes could be her forte? 

She watched as Roger let out a roar,

And found that mojo he’s had before,

Forehands, backhands, drop-shots and serves

Earned him the great victory he deserves.

Never did he think he was going to lose

He had confidence, worthy of his platform shoes! 

Rafael should now go home and rest

For Roland Garros is hardly a test.

In Paris the guy is still invincible 

When fit, his tennis is inimitable.

So do not worry, my Rafatard reader,

Clay Monster is still the ultimate leader. 

As for Nole, he didn’t do so bad, 

To Nadal he lost only by a tad.

His game is no longer such a mess

In fact it’s gained him much success

What a clay season the Serb has had,

Surely a good sign, chin up lad! 

Beyond Paris things will get interesting

The Top Four show’s never been more intriguing

So buckle your seat-belts, and rest your eyes

You never know what in 09 still lies.

But on this ride remember 3 things to keep,

Your faith, your blog and your beauty sleep!