Just as I thought, a good twelve hours at the Open made me forget all about yesterday’s traumas. Yes, twelve! How could a person spend twelve hours (give or take, with transportation) there? Let’s examine (click to enlarge photos).
10am – time I’m supposed to leave
10:30 – time I’m supposed to leave, only more so
10:45 – time I actually leave
11:35 – run like an old OJ commercial through the Tennis Center. People! Out of my way, David Nalbandian awaits me.
11:40 – finally ensconced watching David Nalbandian play no-name German “Other Guy.” Despite promise in JBall to sit amongst rabid Argentineans, actually sit behind mild-mannered German family with clean-cut hair.
11:41 – notice Nalby is losing, first of several heart attacks commences. Goes on to lose first two sets. Anxious muttering in the hopes of controlling his play with my mind.
1pm – look up to see Whitey McRacist on the big screen. He won his match. Fucker.
2:20pm – fifth set! Instead of being dismayed that the 4th seed is playing so miserably against Other Guy, I’m thrilled that I have brought him to this moment WITH MY MIND.
2:45 – Nalby wins! All is right with the world. Notice ass is stuck to seat. Man, I hate that.
2:50 – make way across Tennis Center to join Brother2 at the soon-to-start Hingis match. Yeah! Go Chucky. Pause to consider mortgaging apartment for an ice cream on a stick. Keep moving.
3:05 – Guy next to me asks me what country Hingis’ opponent Peng Shui comes from. Ummmmm…..yeah. That’s a real head-scratcher.
5:15 – Hingis wins! And she didn’t even need MY MIND.
5:30 – catch last 3 points of Israeli Noam Okun match. Kadimah! Okun wins, enjoys greatest moment of his life since he got out of the army, signs every autograph, poses for every picture. Wonder if security will be needed to remove Okun from court. Brother2 asks him to sign autograph in Hebrew. Autograph is abstract design of several circles. Fabulous.
5:40 – Head over to what Brother2 has dubbed “Real Brit vs. Fake Brit,” aka, Henman vs. Rusedski. Wonder if they threw Rusedski out of Canada for being a jerk. They don’t go for that in Canada, you know. Way too crowded with Brits of every accent but worth it just to hear someone say, “Come on Henman, my bruvva.”
5:55 – follow Argentineans to Gaston Gaudio/other Italian guy match. Gaudio yells at himself a lot, but he says “por favor” so at least he’s polite. Brother2 gets bored, moves on to Kukalova match because he met her earlier and feels it would ruin her match for him not to be there. Notice I’m sitting amongst Gaudio’s coach, girlfriend, and posse of twelve. They call out, “Vamos Gasti!” Teeheehee to myself.
6:25 – get a little bored myself, notice people on next court waving Russian and Paraguayan flags, realize those flags are nearly exactly the same. Peer over to match to the left and consider the merits of naming firstborn child, “Scoville Jenkins.”
6:50 – Match ends, posse of 12 hug each other, Gaudio relieved he can stop talking to himself, others are now available.
6:55 – move over to next court, the aforementioned grudge match between longtime historic rivals, Russia and Paraguay. Davydenko beats Delgado. Continue not to care too much about it.
7:30 – pop over to court next door to watch last game of Mahut/Scheuttler match. Mahut wins. Remember that I hate Mahut for being a jerk at a match the previous year. Fucker. Good haircut, though.
7:35 – rejoin Brother2 to purchase $20 hot dogs (the Kosher stand is near Court 11!).
7:45 – head to tiny Court 8 to watch former French Open champion Juan-Carlos Ferrero be disrespected by being forced to play on tiny Court 8. I’m tired. J-C is tired. Other Guy, Swiss George Bastl is tired.
10:30 – crowd helps J-C win in fourth set WITH OUR MINDS.
11:45 – ass once again on own sofa.
2am – eat, finish this post, way too tired to find song
10am – lather, rinse, repeat