Vid: You are a complete and utter showboating moron of a 16 time grand slam champ.

Roger Tweenerer, cursed for reckless conduct towards the future of Swiss tennis.

The most hilarious part of the whole thing was the utterly braindead judgement from Youzhny on the shot: “OH SHIT, ROGER FEDERER HIT A TWEENER, IT MUST BE GOING IN AND IMMA LOOK LIKE A HEADCLOBBERING IDIOT”.

Dude, the shot would’ve been out anyway, and you will always be a headclobbering idiot. Said with love and resignation.

(Gif credit: livefortennis.tumblr)

Oh, by the way – 29 CONSECUTIVE GRAND SLAM QUARTERFINALS. No big deal or anything. I’m just going to wag my finger back and forth – awake, asleep or downright unconscious.

xx doots

Wimbledon: Week 1 Tidbits

1. With some players, it’s love at first sight. Some floor you with a single performance. But some players grow on you like warts and moles. They may not have been your favourites to start off with, but as they approach the autumn of their careers, you realise that even without ever actively liking them, they’ve become part of some of your best tennis memories.

Andy Roddick is a wart. Having been bored by his game and stardom for almost all of his career, I found myself feeling desperately anxious for his future as he was knocked out 76 76 64 by Deliciano, a player he has never lost to before in 7 attempts.

This is not to discount the astounding performance from Lopez, who showed some uncharacterstic shallots to win the first two tiebreaks, meticulously plating up 28 aces and 57 winners on Centre Court. A minor upset this may be, the result actually reflects Deliciano’s form of late, which has mostly been obscured by some close losses – to Roddick by the narrowest of margins in Queens, and to Federer at Roland Garros and (rather epically) in Madrid.

Wimbledon Day 2: Divarena and Woger Sweaterer.

Whatever you might think of Serena Williams, if you didn’t grow an extra ounce of respect or – dare I say – fondness for her after watching this, I DISCOUNT YOUR HUMANITY.

Wimbledon Day 1: No. I don’t understand either.

You know all is right with this world when your heart pounds in trepidation just thinking about what assault on my cornea Venus Williams might wear a grand slam. Needless to say, she didn’t disappoint – with a jumpsuit inspired by “Grecian influences” and my Nana’s best doona cover.

Yer ready?

All the single ladies …

Frazzle Post: Wimbledon

TOURNAMENT ENDED.

 

Post-Wimbly Thoughts (by PJ): Closure

So. It has been a week since and I don’t think my thoughts are properly in order. But whilst things are still fresh-ish on my mind, I thought I’ll do the Wimbly wrap up and then we’ll close this and continue with nothing but frivolous Federporn till the next hard-court season. Sounds good, y/y?

I know I did say I’ll write up a post on the women’s side of things, but apologies, I can’t find the heart, really, to write anything really substantial. Still, congratulations to Rere. Vera tried, but when Rere’s on, she’s on. Serena is now easily the most celebrated women’s GS champion. And seeing that she is one of my favourite female players, I’m really happy for her.

Wish I could say the same for my favourite male player.

There hasn’t been a peep from the Federcamp since last week. There were rumours of an MRI on his thigh injury but nothing was really confirmed. Roger himself hasn’t been seen, presumably tucked away in a secret holiday location with Mirka and the twins. Tennis journos – most without the essential human organ called a brain – wrote scathing attacks and twisted his press conference around to create controversy. Dootsiez wrote a great piece on the perspectives of the lame media regarding THAT press conference and the injury debate, and she said it with less expletives than I ever could so I’ll leave it at that.

I guess I want to reflect a bit on what’s sort of been on the wire since then.

1)      Roger Federer as world #3. “Numbers don’t matter, look at what he has achieved.” Rationalised my fellow Feddersfan, ever positive. Yes, I agree to an extent. But if I can be honest, numbers do matter. It matters to me, and I bet it matters to Federer. He can’t get used to being world #2, much less to say world #3? If I want to be positive about this, I hope for his ego to kick him in his rear and he’ll come out all guns blazing to at least wrestle for the #2 ranking. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s no way for him to get back to #1 for the rest of the 2010 season. Dystopia much? Pretty much.

2)      Rafa Nadal wins 2^nd Wimbledon title. And in one of the most boring Wimbly finals since Hewitt’s straight-sets over Nalbandian in 2002. I’m happy for Rafa, his career is back on track after his own season of pain. But stupid haters and naysayers are clouding my joy and my generosity. I want to be genuinely happy because I like Rafa, but I know I’m not. Fuck it, I’ll live with being a sore loser.

3)      The King is dead. Dear tennis journos, fuck off, get a life, and move on. Sincerely, PJ.

4)      Rafa Nadal is the new King of Wimbledon. Hmm, let’s see. My guy has 6 titles. Rafa has 2 titles. He may qualify for the, I don’t know, Prime Minister of Wimbledon, but the King? Long way to go yet. (On a note, I actually wrote Court Jester of Wimbledon, but I realised that is really mean. My bitterness was not intended towards Rafa, after all. Rather towards the stupid of the tennis media)

5)      Rafa Nadal can catch Roger Federer’s number of slams. I’m not saying that it’s not possible. But a lot of it has to depend on Federer himself, the rest of the field, and most importantly, Rafa’s knees. Who, according to its official twitter, is allergic to hard courts. So we shall see. As of now, seeing the current situation, I’m inclined to say if Federer’s Slam record IS to be broken, it wouldn’t be by Rafa Nadal. I stand to eat my words, of course, but still. *shrugs*

6)      Roger Federer will never dominate again. True, he probably never will, not to the extent of 2006/2007. But I believe he WILL continue to be at the top of the men’s game. Will he ever get world #1 one back? My response is: why wouldn’t he? He definitely wants it bad enough. We’ll see what happens next year.

7)      Roger Federer and Rafa Nadal: Reversal of fortunes. How true. Their 2009/2010 years have been the complete opposite of each other (save for the Masters clay court season). So Rafa’s career was over post AO2010, just as Roger’s career was over post AO2009. Both guys came out and proved everyone wrong. I’m going to wait for Roger to do it all over again.

8)      Tennis journos do not have a mind of their own. The number of articles written proclaiming the end of Roger Federer/the rise of Roger Federer/the end of Roger Federer (and insert Rafa in there, too) by the same people over and over again are uncountable. Can’t make up your mind on whether Federer is over or not, huh?  If Federer wins US Open (and I firmly believe he can), I’ll be waiting for the swing again. There’s a reason why I do not read tennis news all that much anymore.

On my own mourning, no, I’m not really over it. I remember asking Doots despondently over beer and comfort food post RG:

PJ: When do we get over it?

Doots: We don’t. Have you gotten over Wimbly 2008?

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, hey? But if I can be honest, this is worse than 2008, for me. Because even though he was Slam-less at this point in 2008, he at least made it to the finals of RG/Wimby and he wasn’t world #3. I know he already has a Slam this year, and I shouldn’t be greedy, yadda yadda, but let’s face it, we want him to keep winning. Duh, HE wants to keep on winning.

I believe he will. I truly believe he will come back because he is Roger fucking Federer and he really loves the game too much to give it up. His post conference with its surliness and sarcasm says it all: he still wants it. And he’ll get it.

I was talking to my friend yesterday, and we brought up the story of Serena Williams, her year of funk in 2004, and rinse and repeat in 2006. Struggling with injuries and personal tragedy, she couldn’t perform on court and couldn’t win anything.  She plummeted in world rankings and naysayers/ genius tennis journos were predicting the end of the Williams era and the end of Serena Williams. She will never win another Grand Slam again. She is le over.

And of course, we all know that she came back, ranked #81 in the world, and won Australian Open in 2007, and won another five Slams following that, AND got back to world #1.

And you know what? That gives me hope. And we can all keep on hoping.

– PJ

P.S. There will be Federporn this Friday. Unless Head Bitch says otherwise.

Fandom Politics in a time of mourning.

A few quick thoughts before I leave it to PJ to update the Wimbly fall-out.

Haven’t seen the match yet. I’ll give it some time before I do. By “some time”, I mean … a few years.

I found out the results by walking past a pub with a plasma screen. Couldn’t make it to the end of the block, my feet literally refused to move anymore. It’s amazing how quickly the man is capable of sapping my energy, the same way he put a sprint in my step a few days ago when I went to see him at Wimbledon. I would give anything to be less emotionally invested right now.

Of course, when I finally doubled back to the pub, ordered myself a drink and connected to the pub wifi on my iPod touch, tennis fandom was in the thick of a wave of fury over Federer’s press conference.

So here goes:

1. The last question of the presser: either you have the IQ of a piece of fungus, or Federer was being sarcastic. But of course, IQ and sarcasm-radar has nothing to do with it: people who want to hate on him will always jump to the worst conclusion without a lead.
2. Surliness: I probably won’t be with the majority here – I loved the press conference. The worst part of the US Open 2009 wasn’t that he lost, it was that he lost and didn’t seem bothered by it. (Sure, the babies, Roland Garros and Wimbledon probably eased the blow back then). But this is Wimbledon, the man just lost for the second time in 7 years on his home turf. If he turns up to the press conference his usual smooth self, if he appeared to be unbothered by it, I’d tell him to retire. As long as he’s surly, sarcastic, as long as he’s out there looking for explanations, he still cares, he still wants it. There is no greater assurance for a Federer fan than that.
3. Besides, what’s the point? I’ve watched him be magnanimous in defeat over the years, only to be preyed on the vultures the tennis media, only to be knocked down again and again by haters. It would’ve taken a lesser man less time to tell the tennis media to shove it. As far as I’m concerned, if “surly” is as bad as Federer ever gets on his worst day, it’s a pretty good reflection on his character.
4. Bringing up an injury was an excuse, it was his way of rationalising the loss. Again, as with the surliness, it’s oddly comforting. Kim Clijsters did essentially the same thing after her Australian Open loss to Nadia Petrova. (Funny how she’s still the epitome of class and nicety on the WTA tour isn’t it?) It all comes down to this really: Roger Federer just lost in the quarterfinals of Wimbledon. There is nothing rational about it. It is not okay. I am not okay and he shouldn’t be either. So if he wants to turn up to a press conference grasping for a way to explain this so that it hurts less for him and his fans – be my guest, Fed. I have no insecurities when it comes to Roger Federer – I don’t need him to say the right thing 100% of the time to be convinced that he’s a classy guy. I know that for a fact.
5. The injury: those of us in Federer-fandom have known about his leg strapping since last week (here), and anyone familiar with Roger Federer knows how often we see a part of him strapped or bandaged: about once every half a decade, the last time being during Masters Cup 2005. That should tell you its significance. Funnily enough, not a single member of the media cared to ask.
6. Regardless of the injury, just like there is a presumption of innocence in law, there should also be a presumption of health in sport. You’re well enough to step on court, you’re well enough to play (and you’re well enough to lose fairly). So no, Federer doesn’t get much credibility for bring up an injury after a loss, with a minor caveat – the man has never retired from a single match in his career. He could barely stand during the 2008 Masters Cup match against Murray and he still kept playing. Do you see him pulling out of Wimbledon, ever?
7. Double standards. Hypocrisy. It runs both ways. If you’re a Rafa fan, I’m sorry, you don’t get to judge. Equally, if you’re a Federer fan who’s had a go at Rafa over the years for bringing up injuries after a loss, then you don’t get to not-judge Federer on this either.
8. US Open. Roger will win it. And if he won’t? He’ll still walk away from 2010 with a slam. It’s what I asked for at the beginning of the year, the hardest part was telling myself not to be greedy.
9. I realise this is where I part ways with some of you: Rafa for the tournament please. I’ve always said that if someone tapped me on the shoulder and told me the bandwagon I’m on is about to tumble off  cliff, I’ll probably still stay on it. Yesterday, my bandwagon crashed, and I have a feeling that Rafa fans know exactly what this feels like. This time last year was a low point for Rafa too. He hit rock bottom, stayed there for a while, and eventually found his way back up to the top.

The story gives me hope, that someday,as Federer fans, we may make it out of rock bottom too.

xx doots

Wimbly Dystopia (by PJ): I didn’t even promise you porn

So. Where to begin? I honestly just wanted to crawl into bed and not wake up for the next decade (or millennium), but even sleep decides to fail me as I simply cannot fall asleep.

I don’t need to tell the story. Most of us know the story. If you don’t, go find it out yourself. I’m also not going into the debate of what he said in his post-match conference, regarding injuries and what not. You make up your own mind, and I have my opinions. You can’t change my mind, and I’m not going to fucking bother about changing yours, so let’s leave it at that.

For this post, I just want to let out my thoughts a little. It may not be coherent, but at 230AM in the morning, after THE most gut-wrenching loss as a Feddy fan, please do excuse me for sounding all out of sorts.

Again, the stats tell all. Roger didn’t play a bad match. But at the same time, he didn’t play a good match either. Props to Berdych for not mentally collapsing, but Roger had his chances and he knew it. 1/8 BP conversion, and giving away 4 out of 6 BPs on his own serve…he didn’t play the clutch points like clutch points. Much like the Bobby Sod match in RG, he seemed torn between attacking and holding back and somewhat settled into a bizarre game-plan of combining both elements, but then not really.

What really hurts me is that he could have won. Or could have taken it to five for another fight. But then again, could have, should have, would have. Not like any of that is relevant now.

For me, this is the worst loss ever. RG was nothing compared to this. Because Wimbledon is Roger’s favourite. His home. His turf. His fucking lawn. The place where he won #15. The place where he won #1. It means so much to him and to go out at the quarters…must be devastating.

Yes, quarters are not as dismal as first round, and we faced that prospect last week, how we remember. But when you’re Federer, you’ve been used to playing beyond quarters for the last six years. As Federer fans, we’ve come to expect our guy in the semis or finals. We can give ourselves a pat of commiseration on the back and say whatever we like about quarters-being-a-good-result, it-really-is-not-so-bad, at-least-we-have-the-last-six-years, at-least-he-has-16-slams…

Truth is, we can say WHATEVER we want.  But this still fucking hurts like I just inserted my head into a food processor, and my heart still feels like a watermelon being dropped down from 4857364783 floors up, and I still feel like throwing myself over my balcony. Only that I live on the third floor and would probably end up paralysing myself rather than dying, which was my aim.

If I want to be rational, I would say perhaps it is time that I come to the realisation that Federer will not be at the top forever and ever and go out at the top. Funnily, that was what I’ve always thought, even more so after AO this year. He’ll continue winning and when he DOES retire, it’ll be without QF losses at Slams. I naively thought he may be able to keep that semis streak until whenever. I supposed I should be realistic and rational. Rationally, it had to happen someday.

Realism and rationality, however, do not make these losses hurt any less. I don’t think they ever will. They may help me for getting over the losses. Maybe. I haven’t tried it. When I am rational and I do get over this, I’ll come back and tell you people about it.

I may call him Ferd the Turd, Ferd the Fucker, Ferd the Retard or WHATEVER and be flipping angry at him during the match. But after everything, there’s just no anger anymore. Watching his post-match conference (2 minutes is about all I can take – I read the rest) just made me cry and I wanted to cuddle him. I can’t be angry at him. I can’t berate him and continue saying that he’s a fucker and all sorts of negative things. I just can’t.

At the end of the day, I am a FedKAD not because he has 16 slams or that he has the most gorgeous hair in all of the ATP tour. I am a Federer fan simply because HE is Roger Federer. It’s everything about him that I love and appreciate, from the talent, to the puny left arm, to the Monkey, to the hair, to the forehand shanking, backhand netting and the aversion to BP conversion. Everything. I can’t stop being a Federer fan. Maybe my sisters wish I would stop (because they think I am craaaaaay – no, really), but if I am honest to myself, I can’t be mad at him or hate him.

But for now, leave me be in my sorrow. Like RG, I can’t be zen about this. And since this is about three million times worse than RG, Madam Zen is going straight to the garbage bin, along with Mr. Positive Thinking. Maybe at some point they will re-enter my life, but not now.

Having said that, he’s given me a lot of good times, good memories and Fedgasmic experiences, live and otherwise. He’s given me a true hobby and a passion for the sport. I was there for the good times, and therefore I will be there for the bad times (no matter how much I want to spork myself), and whatever happens in the future, I’m still gonna be there.

And that is all.

– PJ

P.S. Not sure I’m going to continue to blog about Wimbly. I probably will write an entry about whoever eventually wins. The women I can do. The men? I don’t give a crap about them anymore. May Tsonga win Wimbledon (and I still would not care).

Wimbly Day 8 & 9 (by PJ): Middle Monday and Twilight Zone

First things first: if you haven’t already, click to read our fabulous Dootsiez’s live report of Wimbly Middle Monday.

And this will be a short entry just to keep up with Wimbly daily blogs. Middle Monday kicked off fabulously with the mother of all draws. Feddykins took Centre Court first for a match that had most of us frazzling, against old friend Jurgen Melzer. They haven’t played each other  – ever – despite being veterans of the tour. Melzer was on fire after reaching the semis of RG (as if we need any reminders that Feddy didn’t make the semis of RG *angst*). Frazzle much? Frazzle indeed.

Turned out to be a fairly straight-forward affair, and Feddy was comfortable through in less than 2 hours and in straight sets. I didn’t watch the match as I was dragged out to a movie that I promised two weeks ago. Post match, I have read articles that were slightly disdainful, saying that Feddy didn’t play well and Melzer gifted him the match.

My reaction to that is: THE HAND. Say what you want, my guy is in the quarters of Wimbly, his 25^th straight quarter final, and his hair is more perfect than ever, so EFF YOU SOUR GREEN GRAPES. HAHAHAHAHHA.

Anyway, some pretty for you all, as per usual.

Pwetty. Vewy pwetty.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee…

Obligatory Monkey photo – when there’s one, it needs to go on here!

Mirka is looking so pretty, isn’t she? As pretty as her husband. *girl crush*

On to the other peeps, I was given permission for Hewittporn if Lleyon Hewitt beats Nole Djoker in his 4R match. Rusty didn’t manage to do it, despite some dramatics of Djoker being all sicky. Well, have a consolation prize of one photo on the Picket Fence, Rusty.

I swear, I jinxed players by promising them porn in event of wins. Same thing happened with Petzschner. So who do you want to see losing next? I’ll just promise them porn and THEY ARE GOING DOWN, BITCHES.

I was hoping for an A-Rod/Rusty rematch (oldies FTW). Poor Rusty. I do feel sorry for him. Guess there is still somewhat lingering affection for old Lleyton (you people will never let me live this down, I know).

But then again, so much for A-Rod anywhere. He lost to Rendy Lu, in a tight 5-setter, and thus creating the biggest shock of the men’s tournament so far (no, I don’t really see Brands defeating Kolya as any kind of epic upset). Watching/reading Roddick’s interview was heart-wrenching as I do like him as a person/player, but when I watched Rendy’s interview, I couldn’t help but feel that this guy deserves it as well.

Rendy has always played his heart out, and it means so much to him; this win, becoming part of the Wimbly club. He dedicated this win, his best result of his career, to his father, who died in 2000, and it’s hard not to go sniffly at that. Tidbit about Rendy: his dad was a chicken farmer, and he’s rather quite skilled at catching them cluckers.

You go, Rendy. Do it for the Asians and beat the pants off Djoker. Throw some live chickens at him! Maybe the feathers will give Nole allergies, hahah. Sorry, no porn for you, though. But oooh, Djokerporn, anyone?  (Okay, saying that alone made me threw up a little)

I had to stick this in though, prime example of I Am A Stupid Journalist (Who Do Not Think Before I Open My Mouth):

Q. So tomorrow when you wake up, you think you’re going to be pissed off, disappointed?

ANDY RODDICK: I’m going to be thrilled. I mean, c’mon.

Seriously, dude. Do you have this organ called a brain? You do? Use it, FFS.

Other guy through is Tomas Berdych. Who plays Feddy later. No comment (OMGOMGOMG ARGHHH SDKFJSDKFJSKDFJ BERDY KILL ME NAAAAAOOOOOO).

Rafa steamrolled Paul-Henri as expected, but Bobby Sod had to dig deep to beat Daveeed Ferrer in 5 sets. In which I say, THANK YOU SODDY. I genuinely like little Daveeed, but seriously, Rafa/Ferrer QF? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Don’t think Ferrer would want to risk his membership to Rafa’s Club of Minions. Poor Feli is probably such an outsider now since he’s been revoked of his club card. Rafa/Soddy should be quite electric, if the Sod we know and loathe and love shows up, instead of the rather uninspired one in the RG final. On grass, I would think Dimples have the slight advantage, but since when things worked out the way they look on paper? Bah.

Other QF match will be played between Jo-Willy and Mandy Curry. Mandy is looking really solid so far, probably the most stable of the Big 4. He’ll probably continue winning.

On the Ladies’ side, generally whatthefuckery.

Middle Monday saw a great match between old foes, Serena and Shrieky Sharaporva. Shrieky had a chance in the first set, but couldn’t capitalised and Serena snatched it, just barely. Second set was all Serena though. She broke once, and cruised all the way to the end, without any serious difficulty.

Another pair of old foes, Justine Henin and Kim Clijsters faced off, with Mummy Kimmy winning in three.

Yesterday saw the ladies’ quarters being played out – and people you’d expect to win, ergo Kimmy AND VENUS WILLIAMS (WTF VEE??), tumbled out. Vee registered her worst showing at Wimbledon since 2006, and the ever fickle media was quick to post the question of possible retirement. Vee has this to say:

Q. When you have a match like today, to what degree does it make you think about the possibility of having a limited time left in your career; that maybe this isn’t what you want to pursue all the time?

VENUS WILLIAMS: Well, why wouldn’t I want to pursue this? I’m pretty good at it most days. Today I didn’t seem to be the best tennis player, but for the most part, I rock and roll this game.

I’ll give it up when I’m just terrible. It would take more than just a few bad days in a year to make me quit tennis. So that’s not even in the equation.

You tell them, Vee. Seriously, one bad match doesn’t equals retirement. I feel sorry for the ‘Oldies’ of ATP/WTA still on top of rankings. Fail to achieve what is expected, and retirement bells are supposedly rightfully a-ringing.  I say let the players themselves decide when they want to retire. They pretty much are the only people to have a say, so the rest of the peeps can just go away.

Vee’s still in for Women’s Doubles, but her role in the Singles as been reduced to being little sis’ cheering team.

So for Wimbledon 2010 Ladies’ Semi-finals, we have: Serena Williams v Petra Kvitova and Vera Zvonareva v Tsvetana Pironkova.

Remember how I said I’d talk more about WTA once it gets to the semis when I will sorta know the players? Well, two out of four ain’t bad. If you thought RG final was a bit of a whack, imagine this Wimbly final not featuring Serena and we have officially entered Twilight Zone for the Ladies.

Anyway. Wimbly Gentlemen’s QF in less than four hours, folks.

BRING IT ON.

Caffeinated,
PJ

P.S. Picture credits to Daylife.com and Tennis.com.cn

Picspam: Wimbly Report

I trust that Poojay is keeping you well informed with the tennis results, so I’ll keep this on my observations of the tournament during Day 7.

And what a day it was, looks like the Australian Open weather followed me all the way to London, for as I woke up in the morning, cloudless skies stretched to infinity all around me. Good morning sunshine! Jetlag? What jetlag?!

Staying in Wimbledon has its advantages. The apartment was a 15 minute walk through leafy suburbia streets, where the scenery changed from rows of red brick townhouses to small cottages and then to much bigger cottages. Wimbledon is not unlike its Melbournian counterpart – Kooyong. But wherever you went, the scene of florals filled the air: people here are nuts about flowers – in gardens, pot plants, window boxes. Got a piece of spare soil? Fill it with something colourful.

By the time I strolled into the AELTC, “the masses” were already lined up outside the main gates like sardines. For some reason, one of the smaller gates let me in early, so I found myself walking around largely deserted grounds, keeping an eye out for … err … ‘objects of interest’.

Sure enough, about 10 steps in, Melzer and Petzschner came walking past on their way to practice, yapping away happily in German. I kept a distance and began stalking in earnest. The two led me, bizarrely, to Severin Luthi, who was headed in a different direction with a can of balls on his racket. Suddenly changing my target, I followed Severin, who eventually led me to Court 10, where through a growing crowd, I could make out someone hitting a single handed backhand …

Trampling over young boys and older women, I eventually fought my way to the front bench on Court 10 like a true bitch. I’m sure you’ll all agree that I had premium views.

Overheard at Wimbly

A woman to her husband: “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realise Roger Federer was such a young man!”

The gap between tennis age and real life age.

Another 20 minutes (focused mainly on the return of serve) and Wogie was done. I gathered my things and prepared to go: it was game day. Roger had his game face on (no playing with lady bugs yo!). He probably won’t sign any autographs.

Overheard at Wimbly

A group of AELTC staff wandered over, “Roger, can we get a photo?” “No problem … wait wait, I wasn’t ready!”

More staff hurried over, too shy to ask now that Roger is back to packing his belongings.

“Haha, you’re too late!” One of guys in the photo teased. Roger turned around and motioned to the camera, ‘it’s okay,’ he said, he’ll take photos with the rest of the staff as well.

“Thanks Roger, good luck for the tournament”, said a girl shyly as she got moved into the photo. The fans awwed.

Having taken enough photos, Roger walked over and began signing autographs for the onlookers. Federbear caught his eye with his epic cuteness, and Roger took him from my hands and signed it!

I guess future forms of bear torture won’t involve the washing machine anymore.

With the practice session over, I hopped along to watch a set of Bartoli v Pironkova.

Overheard at Wimbly

Guy: “Who’s that chick over there?”
Me: “that’s Bartoli.”
Guys: “she’s the 11th seed here, so she can’t be bad, right?”
Me: “Are you kidding me? She made the final here a few years ago.”
Guy: “[silence] … Naarrrgggh. Yer wrong.”

A set of Hamster tennis was all I could handle. With a lot of time to spare before Roger kicks off the Centre Court proceedings, I decided to hit the Wimbledon museum. Not being a tennis traditionalist, I had no idea what to expect from the museum. As it turned out, I didn’t regret my visit.

Overheard at Wimbly

Museum staff: “You look Aussie, are you Aussie?”
Me: “How did you know?!”
Museum staff: “I’m going to take a guess and say that you’re from Melbourne.”
Me: “OH MY GAWD IT’S WRITTEN ON MY FACE ISN’T IT?!”

The museum was chronologically organised, covering the history of tennis from the champions to the changes in technology, the balls, the racquets, and of course, the fashion.

What I didn’t appreciate fully before visiting the museum was the role tennis played in women’s liberation. I’m not just talking about BJK here. Suzanne Lenglen caused a stir when she ditched her petticoats to play in a cotton dress. Helen Wills Moody popularised tennis fasion and made this sport stylish and aspirational for young women. Hell, the Suffragettes even tried to burn down Wimbledon one year.

But naturally, this was what I really came to see.

I don’t know how Robert and Lynnette do it. As I was standing in front of Roger’s Wimbledon outfit from last year, as I looked at the trophy nearby, I was so flooded with pride. Roger might be older than me, but he still has the tendency to make me feel like a proud mama sometimes. Well … most of the time.

The darling boy can’t help himself he’s so adorbs.

Time for the match! I was highly amused for a minute, when I sat down and discovered the person sitting on my left, right, behind me, and in front of me were all Aussie.

“Wait … you too?”

“Me too! I’m from Adelaide.”

“Sydney here.”

“Melbournians!”

“What are the chances?!” Everyone exclaimed.

“Well, I got my ticket through Tennis Australia.”

“Oh … that makes sense.”

What are the chances indeed.

Not much to say on the match. Roger kept it frazzle-free for me so I could use my time wisely to perve on his Royal Gorgeousness. For stretches of the match, I watched his feet, I watched his puny left arm, I watched his hair choreography. I also listened. Roger Federer has always been a quiet mover, but on grass? He’s totally silent. The only sounds were the shuffling footsteps of Melzer, the “plonk plonk” of forehands, “tap tap” of Federer’s slice, the “whoooosh!” as he suddenly hits through a backhand. Collective draw of breath from the crowd, and then – exhale, as backhand bounced, unreachable for Melzer.

Overheard at Wimbly

“Oh gosh, he’s so effortless. GOSH,” moaned the woman behind me, reaching tennis nirvana.

Fedgasms – it matters not if he plays B+, or A- or A+ tennis. It matters that you’ve seen his feet lift off the ground on a forehand, his torso rotating, his eyes watching the ball intently: friend or foe? It matters that you’ve seen him serve an ace, then turn around as applause rings through the stadium, the expression on his face nonchalant. I do this all the time you guys, no biggie.

It matters that I now have permanent bragging rights over my future grandchildren. “When I was your age, I saw Roger Federer play on grass, that guy was really something.”

By the way, Roger maintained his perfect record of never losing in front of me. 8-0. GET ME TO THE US OPEN NAOOOO.

Didn’t get Justine and Kim, but as far as OOPs go, getting my two favourite female players on centre court ain’t bad either. Fabulous first set tiebreaker, won in the end by the woman with the better serve. Like that should surprise anyone.

What was surprising was that this is the first time I’ve seen a crowd cheer for Maria Sharapova, partly because she was the underdog. Partly, I suspect, because of the Williams sisters’ uneasy relationship with the tournament.

Overheard at Wimbly

“Did you know that Serena once threatened an Asian woman that she was going to kill her?” Said the woman behind me.

GET YOUR FACTS RIGHT BITCH.

I drank what I needed to drink. I ate what I needed to eat. Everything tasted better with plastic cutlery. YOU KNOW IT DID.

No photos of Mandy. My camera battery died the moment he walked out onto court. I took it as a sign from the Tennis Gods that I should stay far far away from his pants. So I headed off without watching his first set and had a failed attempt at swapping my centre court ticket for a Court 1 ticket.

Overheard at Wimbly

“Is anyone here desperately in love with Ahndee Murray that they’d be willing to swap me their Court 1 ticket?” I asked a group of people waiting to go into Court 1 during the change of ends.
Their laughter was the only response.
“Come on guys! I mean … he’s so cheery and bubbly.”
More laughter. “Don’t like Murray huh?” A guy asked.
“Well … no.”
“Oh-trust-me-you’re-not-alone.”

Even the usher couldn’t suppress a giggle.

xx doots