The Long and the Short of It

Wow. What a difference a day makes!

Isner is out, losing in a fast, straight-sets match to Thiemo de Bakker, during which the American had no aces -- versus the 113 aces served to Mahut on Tuesday... Wednesday... and Thursday.

Today's match, over in 94 minutes, was the shortest men's match thus far in the 2010 Wimbledon tourney.

I'm surprised he was able to move at all.

For my daily whine: why, oh why, must Clijsters be paired against Henin?



Noteworthy: Mauresmo, very happy, it seems, in her retirement, is coaching Michael Llodra... who lost a close 4 set match to Roddick on Wednesday. Now she can chill and have a little beaujolais on some veranda somewhere.

Funny -- after her win at Antwerp, where someone awarded her a nice bottle, she said, "Tout le monde va penser que je suis alcoolique"!

I haven't been very forthcoming about my picks for this year... I am, to be honest, pretty sick, as well as emotionally drained by nursing Sam-I-Am. He will only rarely take food, and then only small bites from my hand. It is uncomfortable for him to lower his head to a bowl -- so my hands are met in offering every half hour -- a dish of water, a plate with small palatable morsels, treats of all kinds. I will spare you the play-by-play, as it is quite simple: He is a dying cat, much loved and well-cared for, and loving and caring, generously, in his turn. We hope he will turn the corner and live months, maybe years longer, but it does not look likely.

Anyway, I will go with my sentimental favorites -- why not? So that'd be Roddick and Henin. I apologize, in advance, to them -- as I have an extensive history as a Sport's Jinx.

the match that would not end

i just had to document that the score is 55-55 in the fifth set.

that's right. "set." as in, tennis set. fifth, as in, there were four that came before.

mahut versus isner, the longest game ever... dastardly even. to say these guys are tuckered (even though the match has been spread over two days) is a ridiculous understatement. play has now run over the 9-hour mark.

the quality of the *serving* alone is awe-inspiring.

the first 60 or so games, i thought "how cool to be witnessing tennis history."

(now i am kind of embarrassed for whomever wins -- and so bummed on behalf of the loser.)

now it is 56-56... 157 games in the match so far! holy moly*, guacamole!

chapeaux, all around.

6/24/2010: {CONGRATULATIONS TO ISNER! the two had to come back on a THIRD day and the match ended up lasting ELEVEN hours, five minutes... this is one that will be long on the record books. the final fifth set score? 70-68}

* [T]he origin of the word Moly... comes from Homer's Odyssey. In book 10, Hermes gives the herb to Odysseus to protect him from Circe's incantation. Homer describes Moly by saying, "The root was black, while the flower was as white as milk; the gods call it Moly, and mortal men cannot uproot it, but the gods can do whatever they like."

U.S. Open 2009

I'm sure you've been wondering about my relative silence on the premier annual tennis event on U.S. of American soil. Well, wonder no longer (and blame it on a nasty gastrointestinal virus).

There is much to be excited about in the women's draw, what with the return of Kim Clijsters and the excellent play of young Melanie Oudin. Venus is out, but Serena remains. I am not a fan of the sisters -- though I prefer Venus to Serena, if forced to opine. The crowds are going wild for Clijsters -- I think because she is as close to an Honest Player as it gets. What's an Honest Player? An unspoiled person who is gifted -- and who honors the gift with hard work.

Does that make any sense at all?

John Isner managed to piss me off by eliminating Andy Roddick. Were he talented enough to win the tourney, I'd not mind, but he isn't. Yes, I suppose I ought to be more properly upset with Roddick... but I'm not.

But the most exciting thing in the entire tourney thus far?

It seems likely that Rafael Nadal will be wearing (relatively) normal clothes when he faces, and beats, Federer in the final.

No more silly vanity muscle shirts or tweedy capris that make him look all stumpy-legged.

Not that I've given the matter any thought.