C'mon (et al)
When I was a smaller person, we used to have summer holdiays at Dromana on the Mornington Peninsula. The house was (and still is) an old weatherboard beach shack that belongs to the extended family. They were wonderful holidays, seemingly eternal weeks of sun, swimming and beach. Fish 'n' chips, pizza, cordial with ice in it. No TV, lots of boardgames, cricket (endless cricket), tennis, bikes - just ace.
While all that stuff was blissful, nothing was quite as exciting as getting taken by Dad to the brand new tennis centre to see the Australian Open. Looking back, it was an ideal opportunity to give my Mum a break - can you imagine the luxury of no kids for a whole day when usually there were at least three and often several more.
We would get in the van and drive to Frankston, get on the train and sit impatiently all the way to (then) Flinders Park, a white, glistening, almost religious icon in the centre of the city. Tickets to the outside courts in the first week was standard - hundreds of games, the soft thock of tennis balls filling the air. Occasionally we'd see someone famous, Stephan Edberg, Pat Cash, Stefi Graff - but mostly we watched lowly ranked qualifiers and doubles on the back courts.
One year Dad got a rush of blood to the head and bought us tickets to Centre Court. I have no idea who we saw, it doesn't matter in the slightest, all I remember was the stunning stadium. Modern, compact, shiny, colourful and so astonishingly quiet, any sound dense, like talking into a pillow.
I've been to the tennis most years since then but I've missed the last few Opens. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to see the best in the world doing their "thang". So it was with some anticipation that me and Pete went along last Wednesday to see the night session of the Men's quarter finals - Rafael Nadal versus Fernando Gonzalez.
Anyone with even a passing interest in the tennis will know that the highly favoured Nadal was summarily dispatched by an extraordinary Gonzalez on the night. He was truly amazing with a forehand that really shouldn't be legal it's that good. We got tickets courtesy of a friend with inside contacts right next to Gonzalez' players box, three rows from the front. We could pretty much smell the players they were that close.
We saw the little interchanges Gonzalez had with his coach, watched Nadal struggle to find a chink in his armour and watched the best tennis that certainly I've ever seen.
In a couple of hours Gonzalez will take to Centre Court to play in his first ever Grand Slam final against Roger Federer, possibly the greatest tennis player that has ever played the game. Both won their semis with terrifying efficiency, but no-one expects Gonzalez to even come close to Federer - in the words of Dr Evil, "no Mr Bond, I expect you to die". But having watched him on Wednesday and after seeing what he did to poor Tommy Haas, I reckon he's in with a chance.
So tonight I shall be sitting back and enjoying what could be one of the best games of tennis played in recent years. And I wouldn't be surprised if Gonzalez can do something quite extraordinary. I really hope he does.
Having said all that, I can now forsee and absolute thrashing being dealt out by Federer, but in the meantime, get behind Gonzalez - if nothing else, he's much cuter and considerably more charming.
While all that stuff was blissful, nothing was quite as exciting as getting taken by Dad to the brand new tennis centre to see the Australian Open. Looking back, it was an ideal opportunity to give my Mum a break - can you imagine the luxury of no kids for a whole day when usually there were at least three and often several more.
We would get in the van and drive to Frankston, get on the train and sit impatiently all the way to (then) Flinders Park, a white, glistening, almost religious icon in the centre of the city. Tickets to the outside courts in the first week was standard - hundreds of games, the soft thock of tennis balls filling the air. Occasionally we'd see someone famous, Stephan Edberg, Pat Cash, Stefi Graff - but mostly we watched lowly ranked qualifiers and doubles on the back courts.
One year Dad got a rush of blood to the head and bought us tickets to Centre Court. I have no idea who we saw, it doesn't matter in the slightest, all I remember was the stunning stadium. Modern, compact, shiny, colourful and so astonishingly quiet, any sound dense, like talking into a pillow.
I've been to the tennis most years since then but I've missed the last few Opens. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to see the best in the world doing their "thang". So it was with some anticipation that me and Pete went along last Wednesday to see the night session of the Men's quarter finals - Rafael Nadal versus Fernando Gonzalez.
Anyone with even a passing interest in the tennis will know that the highly favoured Nadal was summarily dispatched by an extraordinary Gonzalez on the night. He was truly amazing with a forehand that really shouldn't be legal it's that good. We got tickets courtesy of a friend with inside contacts right next to Gonzalez' players box, three rows from the front. We could pretty much smell the players they were that close.
We saw the little interchanges Gonzalez had with his coach, watched Nadal struggle to find a chink in his armour and watched the best tennis that certainly I've ever seen.
Rafael Nadal adjusting his famous wedgie - Yes, I actually got a photo of it!
In a couple of hours Gonzalez will take to Centre Court to play in his first ever Grand Slam final against Roger Federer, possibly the greatest tennis player that has ever played the game. Both won their semis with terrifying efficiency, but no-one expects Gonzalez to even come close to Federer - in the words of Dr Evil, "no Mr Bond, I expect you to die". But having watched him on Wednesday and after seeing what he did to poor Tommy Haas, I reckon he's in with a chance.
So tonight I shall be sitting back and enjoying what could be one of the best games of tennis played in recent years. And I wouldn't be surprised if Gonzalez can do something quite extraordinary. I really hope he does.
Having said all that, I can now forsee and absolute thrashing being dealt out by Federer, but in the meantime, get behind Gonzalez - if nothing else, he's much cuter and considerably more charming.
Crap.
ReplyDeleteThis just in. Roger Federer is a robot. That's right, you heard it here first.
Unbelievable.
ReplyDeleteHe just kept pushing Gonzalez out to the corners and back off the court. It really starts to feel quite unfair - he'd just shift the whole tennis match back several metres until he was at the net and poor Fernando was basically playing ground strokes from the front row.
Still, Gonzalez put up a good fight. And I was all ready to be mad at Federer until he spoke. Does he have to be nice as well as good? Sigh.
I know.
ReplyDeleteIt actually felt like I was watching an arsehole Dad flogging his 11 year-old son just to teach him how tennis should be played. He's just too good.