I love tennis. A lot. I can't play, of course, because that would require hand-eye coordination, but I love to watch other people play. Especially when those people play really, really well.
I would have loved another Federer v Nadal final. I'm still not tired of watching those two play each other. But I found that I could equally well love a Federer v anyone final. And I had my eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss a moment. I was standing in the middle of my living room for the last game, to better facilitate the exuberant jumping that occurs when Roger Federer wins things.
Part of my love for tennis comes from the moment common to all sports: the reaction of the winner. I loved when Roger fell to the ground in tears after winning his fifth Wimbledon. Even better (if there is such a thing) was Rafa climbing into the stands to embrace his parents after winning his first Wimbledon. And today, Roger screamed as he fell to his knees, rejoicing in the moment, before hitting a ball into the stands. I love the reaction.
And I'll probably be smiling all week. Can't wait for Wimbledon. Also, before next year, I must learn French.
The half-witted, half-baked, half-mad ramblings of a widowed, forty-something, earth-loving, commuter-cycling, theatre-going, runner-girl Christ follower. Abandon seriousness, all ye who enter here.
What are we talking about today?
I'll get back to theme days once I find a groove of posting regularly. In the meantime, most of my posts are about some variation of books, bikes, buses, or Broadway. Plus bits about writing, nonprofits, and grief from time to time.
This blog is mostly lighthearted and pretty silly. It's not about the terrible things happening in the world, but please know that I'm not ignoring those things. I just generally don't write about them here.
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