My breakfast at Wimbledon
At 9am sharp the champagne was poured, the strawberries washed and sliced and I was ready for tradition. It was going to be great tennis, made epic. Andy Murray was the first Brit to make the Wimbledon final in a million years (not an exact figure) and if Roger Federer won he would regain his #1 ranking. So a lot was on the line.
Roger is probably the greatest tennis player of all time and he’s definitely my favorite:
*He never grunts (unlike his opponent Andy Murray who had several styles of grunting throughout the match, with the worst being a feminine orgasmic-like sigh.)
*He always looks perfect, as if he stepped out of a Tennis for Gentlemen magazine issue from the Gatsby era. (I made up that publication, please do not attempt to find it or correct me.)
*He’s totally confident about how amazing he is, except when he loses and then he cries and carries on in a way that endears him to me. Losing seems to shatter his ego and I always imagine him going home to the hotel where Mirka (his wife) takes him through Stuart Smalley-esque self-esteem exercises until he’s back to believing he’s awesome.
*And of course there’s his actual style of play which is so beautiful and graceful and innate…
Andy Murray showed up unshaven, hair askew, wearing what looked to be an old workout outfit. He fell down a lot, hit himself in the face when he screwed up, and generally had a bad attitude. He was easy to root against. Until he lost and let down his country and bawled into the microphone while trying to express his gratitude to those who believed in him along the way. And then I cried for him and with him and his lack of grooming was forgiven.
The crowd shots were entertaining too. Posh and Becks looked beautiful and very serious. The Middleton sisters were having a great time and were totally into it. Bringing out Federer’s twin daughters at the end of the match was delightful, especially the one that kept waving to the crowd. And I loved that the only fact the commentators could come up with about Andy Murray’s seemingly made of wax girlfriend was that she lives in his 7 million dollar mansion.
So now we head for the Olympics and I must switch my allegiance to the Americans. Sorry Roger, for the next month I’m Team Roddick. (But don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time for the US Open.)
- Jen
July 9th, 2012 at 8:45 am
I totally agree, Jen. Federer is hands down my favorite player of all time. I just couldn’t stop smiling all day after he won… except for during Andy Murray’s speech, in which I couldn’t stop crying. I was almost late for church because of the match. I am rooting for Roddick too, but he always gets my hopes up only to dash them, so I’ll probably end up rooting for Federer in the end. I really wish Mardy Fish was playing the Olympics, since I watched him live in his first-ever professional tournament, and my friend and I spent the entire time yelling “Go FISH!”
July 9th, 2012 at 5:47 pm
It is hard not to admire Federer. He’s the definition of suave and debonair. He’s Swiss. I was pulling for Murray though because of the pressure he was under playing in his homeland. I stopped when he started getting down on himself (the bad attitude you mentioned). I could picture Murray’s girlfriend berating him behind closed doors though.