I shall do this in two sections, and add pictures to the piccys thread, unless revelent
Well I was a live tennis virgin, and who better to lose your 'virginity' too
and what better place. There is something poetic about seeing him for the first time, in his final tournament. Talk about being a late starter, just to take the metaphor one stage further
Watched Seppi/Kohlschreiber, little interest, Berdych/Millot, a little better, PHM/Troiki, improved again, and watched
Jim Chardy come on court for his doubles, but decided to save myself for Safi, and went for a wander and an assiette
des frites. On my wander to the Seine, saw Carlos Bernardes leaving and in my concentration of lighting a cigarette, I
practically walked slap bang into Mohamed Lahyani. I giggled nervously, he smiled, and strode off to the VIP entrance, as I retreated to my plebby entrance.
I was in slightly different seats to my Matinee seats, but pretty good. Infact inspired choice, as when the players were called Safi was right there, all two metres of him, about two metres away. I had been told that I would be amazed by his height in person, but that didn't strike me so much as his commanding presence. And his amble, which I think is adorable.
The light show started, flashing lights all over the court lines, and then a countdown, par example
I was pretty surprised at how empty the stadium was, considering the event, or what the event potentially could have been. Maybe the French public were confident enough that this wasn't it, there was a moment that Cedric Pioline was brought to the sidelnes, as Ascione had his shot. Pioline disappeared sharpish though, much to my relief. Not that I have an issue with Pioline you understand, I just knew what it meant.
The crowd was pretty pro-Ascione, and only a small group of us cheering Marat I felt. My neighbour kept yelling "Allez
Thierry" which was fine, I suppose, but the sheer volume, Lord! And then his damn wife, shouting out during Marats ball toss, I could have garroted her. I moved into my empty brothers seat eventually, as it pissed me off too much. The patriotism got more intense when Les Bleus entered the stadium, and in my seats, I was three seats behind Thierry Henry.
As for the match my pa described it well, a fine swordsman playing an agricultural worker!
There was a group of people infront of me, (and Thierry) who Marat seemed to be having a chat and laugh with during the match and at the end as he was leaving had some hugs and more laughs with them. (No women in the group, for those who it concerns. Although blondes elsewhere) These are them:
After the emotional rollercoaster, I couldn't take Grosjean, so left for the day. But not before stopping at the Billetiaire to ask about tickets for Wednesday. Sold out!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Turned up on Tuesday, saw Kolya, Jim Chardy, Nando Verdasco, bit of Rafa's doubles, but was spent before the evening
session, so went for some Paris nightlife instead.
Part deux coming..............