From my couch I savored every dazzling moment of Carlos Alcaraz’s triumph in Madrid and Iga Świątek’s ruthless brilliance in Rome. My wife, a Tolkien fanatic who is about as interested in tennis as I am in Middle-earth, took notice of Świątek’s dominance and asked what “bagels” and “breadsticks” were in tennis parlance, and then dutifully sent me memes such as this:
Mary Carillo might be missing from ESPN but she lives on gayly in our hearts.
It’s the final weekend of the Australian Open. Iga Świątek, my favorite player in the women’s draw, lost in the semifinals. On the men’s side, my beloved Roger Federer is recovering from another knee surgery and it’s unclear where his career goes from here. His wins Down Under in 2017 and 2018 remain some of my favorite of his career. If I have time, I’ll probably rewatch at least one of those matches and my wife will try not to laugh at me when I inevitably cry.
“For I am nothing macho, missing more. I fashioned you can cross to see problems of sharing a locker room with a girl, but then to talk about sexism … If I want to pee in front of a girl? Not at all. That will be outdated in any case.”
baffling google translation of toni nadal
A bit of Google Translate-assisted wisdom from Toni Nadal, the perennially hat-wearing, leg-crossing, Y-chromosome possessing uncle and coach of Rafael Nadal, reacting to the appointment of Gala León, a uterus-having woman, as the captain of Spain’s male Davis Cup team.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful matches played; The team has weather’d every foe, the prize we sought is won; The trophy is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, Rafa’s biceps grim and daring:
Back in May*, I asked if eight greater words than “Federer stuns clay king Nadal in Madrid final” had been written all year. That’s a distant memory now, with the French Open in the rearview mirror, and this evening I saw a ten-word proclamation that must certainly qualify as the best headline I’ve read all year (other than “Palin Resigns”): “Roger Federer confirms he is greatest ever in wonderful finale.” To my father, who has been antagonizing me since Federer’s bout with mono last year by saying at the start of every tournament that his best playing days are behind him: you can shut up now.
*I know, I know, what happened to June? Your guess is as good as mine.
A few days ago, someone asked if I’d wear Jeanne Moreau’s veil again if Roger Federer lost to Rafael Nadal in Sunday’s Australian Open final. The answer was maybe, depending on the match. The Wimbledon loss had been a heartbreaker and required a period of mourning. The Australian Open final turned out to be different. By the time it was over, Federer was crying like his name was Stella Dallas, but for me it was less a heartbreaker (there was no good reason for him to have lost this time) than a head-scratcher. And so the veil is staying put — for now. Hopefully nothing will happen later this year to change that.
In happier, non-tennis news…
Cherry Jones digs Golda Meier and uses the word “goyim” in this interview about her work on the new season of 24. I don’t watch 24 (its creator, Joel Surnow, donated $2,000 to Rick Santorum in 2006 and I’d feel dirty doing anything that might help line his pockets), but in the wake of Tammy Lynn Michaels going nuts about Rick Warren and misspelling “yarmulke” all over the place in December, I was dreading the next shout-out a lesbian celebrity gave to the Jews. Thank you, Cherry Jones, for not making strange comments about matzo ball soup. You’re a mensch.
ESPN2’s live broadcast of the women’s final of the Australian Open doesn’t start until 3:30 a.m. ET, and having just finished listening to the audio commentary Diane Lane and Laura Dern provided for the DVD release of Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains (who knew Diane Lane said “Bless” so much?), I’m running out of things to do in the meantime.
The question, I suppose, is whether it’s worth staying up for the match, which will re-air at a more reasonable time later in the morning. Dinara Safina and Serena Williams are thrilling to watch when they’re in control of their heads, but what if only one of them shows up mentally today? It could make for a terribly boring one-sided match, and who wants to lose sleep to watch one of those — especially with Federer/Nadal coming up tomorrow night. I’m conflicted.
P.S. You know the only thing Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains was missing? Some Times Square-esque lesbian overtones. That the screenplay made that impossible by having all the band mates be related was kind of lame. Aren’t girl bands always better when one or two members give off a queer vibe? That’s the only reason I ever watched a Spice Girls music video: to gauge who fit the bill.
Because my nerves are going to need a day to recover from those Safina and Federer matches.
(Yes, this was a paltry post, but I’m still too jittery to write anything else. Give me a few hours to calm down and sleep a little, and then I’ll try to scrounge up something to complain about.)
“I used to play doubles with Dana Fairbanks, if you catch my drift.”
The Australian Open starts in five hours (the official website has a countdown clock), and I’m so excited about it that I feel like an honorary Pointer Sister. American viewers, here’s the TV schedule. And readers, be warned: If Roger Federer makes an early exit, I’m going to be even crankier than usual. Enough so that the Department of Homeland Security will have to raise my crankiness alert level to red, scaring schoolchildren and delighting Wolf Blitzer in the process.
Roger Federer’s so good that he often has ball boys hold books for him to read during matches. He won this point while engrossed in Dr. Zhivago.
Roger Federer, the tennis genius I refuse to call the Swiss Maestro because it makes him sound like a character from a Seinfeld subplot, has withdrawn from next week’s Stockholm Open. He explained his decision by saying, “I feel fortunate to be healthy again, but I want to remain at the top of the game for many more years to come and go after the No. 1 ranking again. In order to do that, I need to get a proper rest and get strong again so that I am 100 percent fit for the remainder of the year or next year.”
Good plan and everything, but why didn’t he try it earlier in the year when his game was suffering the most? I’m a Federer fanatic, as some of you might know, and I’ll probably be in therapy over his Wimbledon loss for the next several years. His performance at the U.S. Open made some of that anguish (yes, anguish — I was like a character in an Ingmar Bergman movie following that Wimbledon final) subside, though there were times during the Andreev match when I almost threw my remote at the TV in frustration.
Work prevented me from writing much of anything about the U.S. Open this year, but nearly a month later I can say this: It will be a long time before I forget the feeling of Zen-like calm that came over me when Federer dismantled Novak Djokovic in the semis. It was apparent that his desire to win was great enough that neither Nadal nor Murray would stand a chance in the final, and in many ways his win over Murray was anticlimactic.
As for Murray, while I’m appreciative of his improved game and enjoy his celebratory flexing, I’ve yet to buy into this “Murray as master tactician” line of thought. A master tactician wouldn’t have played Federer the same way he played Nadal — anyone could have predicted it would result in a loss.
On a tennis-related side note…
To everyone who finds this blog via the search string “maria sharapova lesbian” — and there have been a lot of you lately — let’s get something straight. Yes, I joke about Sharapova every now and then. She’s one of my favorite players and she’s someone who registers on quite a few gaydars, so for me it’s an ‘I kid because I love’ kind of thing. To save you any time you might waste poking around for previous mentions of her, here’s the deal: I haven’t written anything about her personal life. I don’t know anything about her personal life, though I’m aware of the rumors.
If asked to comment on her personal life, there are three things I would say:
1) I can’t believe people were stupid enough to fall for those fake Adam Levine quotes. (Please, don’t be fooled by Yakov Smirnoff, humor does exist in Russia.) Okay, fine, I can believe it. People are really stupid.
2) It comes off as pathetic when tennis commentators are eager to romantically link her to any male player she’s friends with. How often do you tune into an NFL game just in time to hear Joe Buck say, “And there goes #45, who is rumored to be boinking that redheaded cheerleader with the smokin’ ass!”
I know that just about everyone who makes a mint off the sport is eager to assure the viewing public that those “four in ten” figures Rennae Stubbs offered to The Age are baloney, but they should also understand that we don’t turn on tennis coverage expecting to hear breathless reports about the mating (or shopping) habits of the players. That’s better left to Entertainment Tonight. Mary Hart can sell that kind of crap. Tennis analysts can’t.
3) You’re off your ever-lovin’ rocker if you think the highest-paid female athlete in the world would come out in her early twenties, when she’s still a top player and raking in endorsement cash. That’s assuming she’s not straight, of course.
Anyway, let’s recap: Federer should have worked on the proper rest thing months ago. And if you’re looking for photos of Maria Sharapova playing naked doubles with Camilla Belle, you’re in the wrong place.
