Here's my report from Wimby. I didn't take any pics at all, but my mates took a couple. You can see them here
Via - Court 19 is one of the larger outside courts, about as big as I've ever seen Nono play a first round match on at Wimby. He didn't even deserve to be on a court that big, because there were many empty seats.
Nono's head - I think in one of the articles I translated he said that he had gone to a psychologist for a while but it didn't work because he's a private person and couldn't open up. So now he talks to Remi about stuff.
I'll find the exact quote later...
edit - "Certain technicians think that the role of the psychologists is not useful, saying that when the physique and the technique are there, a player is well in his head. What do you think about it? –
I cannot generalize, but it is completely my case. At one time, I saw a psychologist. The problem is that I am unable to trust somebody whom I do not know; inevitably, as it is wanted as it is effective, it is necessary to tackle personal subjects, to confide. And that it is impossible. For me, the psychologist was a stranger, and at the end of a ½ hour, I understood. However, I have the impression nevertheless that there are things in me and that it is necessary to sort that. I do it with my trainer, we are together all year round and there I have trust."
Marine, you're a great fan. If others want to sit back and watch him get worse instead of better, fine for them. Don't stop being honest, please!
Queued from about 6.30am for a ground pass. The sun was cracking the chuckies and we had high hopes for a good day of tennis despite the forecast. Went down to the practice courts first and saw a little bit of Sébastien practising. At the end he was kind enough to come over and sign my book. I didn’t have a chance to say anything but “merci” because it was busy and I knew he would be playing shortly. The clouds started to roll in at 12 noon just in time for start of play.
Watched a bit of Jose Acasuso vs. Stefan Koubek. Jose was cute, curly haired (almost hedgehoggy) and playing better than I’ve ever seen him play on grass (ok, so when I’ve seen him before he’s been completely shite, but I’m trying to be kind). Cat texted me to say that she’d seen Nono and I went down to the practice courts to see if he was there, but he must have been out already on an outside court, because he wasn’t there. Went back to watch Jose. Ended up sitting along the bench from one of Koubek’s mates (manager, I think) who kept staring at me in a slightly alarming fashion. Trotted over to court three to wait for the chicks to finish so we could watch Séb. Sadly Jose's form dropped as soon as Dee departed and the heavens opened. *sigh* Rain in tennis world is just plain wrong! The rest of the day was mostly waiting around. Covers on and off, actual weather conditions seemed to mean nothing. If only everyone could have been as quick and tidy as Roger. Sue picked a good ‘un there. Gave up and went home early. A disappointing day since I had really wanted to see Séb and Carlos. After a bit of Wimbledon landlady drama (this is Wimbledon fortnight, dear) and lot of Euro 2004 footballing drama (Roooneyay!), we were all off to bed.
Queued same time, same place, same weather, same ticket. Went down to the practice courts where Marat and Nono were practicing on courts next to each other. Peter Lundgren and Remi were talking to each other a little in French (Peter’s French is about as good as mine, I reckon), and when Richard Gasquet and coach came along later there was a bit of banter too, especially with the cute ball girl who was a little nervous of Marat.
At the end of practice Marat came over and sat on the ground right in front of me. Shame he wasn’t the guy I wanted – he ran around the long way. Pah! Two years in a row he’s avoided me. The little bastard. I’m lovely, so I am. All genres of totty kiss and cuddle me! Least he can do is sign a bloody book. Grrrrrrrrrrr! But I went to his match anyway, in the hope that I might get it signed at the end. Nono was generally well behaved, and even managed a wee smile and laugh with les ramasseurs des balles! He did at one point look like he was thinking about smacking one of them, but that was only because the kid nearly took his head off and he had to jump out of the way. He glared at the kid, but he didn’t say anything, so that’s a marked improvement.
Nono didn’t play as badly as the score might suggest. He always takes a little while to get warmed up, and by the second set he was playing alright-ish. He had a few break points but didn’t manage to convert them.
Joachim has a massive serve and all his service games were like target practice. Nono did well to return anything. It was a tough draw and Johansson played much better than the little curmudgeon. No other explanation for the loss, except perhaps that he seemed to be having a spot of bother with his pants. More than a few times he had to pull them out of his crack (graphic enough? You said you wanted details…) which led certain spectators (no names) to believe that he was wearing Milly’s instead of his own. She’s bound to be a sensible white cotton girl so it could have been an early morning rummage in the laundry basket sort of mix up and nothing kinky. Pim-Pim had black ones on, if you’re interested. Sorry, I digress…..back to the match....
Nono got a little sarcastic at one of the line calls and escaped without a CV – “you think that was good? You think that was in? ok *shrugs* It was in.” *gives a little clap* - there had been a few dodgy calls, but I thought this one was good. Sorry Nono. The third set went to a tb, and I hadn’t given up on him, especially since he decided that was the right moment to give me a wee flash of his NEW TATTOO. Do you think he heard I was into TT tatts?
I couldn’t see what it was, but it takes up a large area on the small of his back. When he flicks up his shirt you can see it peeking out from his waistband.
Nono had more by way of crowd support and was definitely using it to pump himself up, but in the end it didn’t do him much good. Many of the French fans left before the end of the match.
He lost to Johansson in straight sets, crap for him and crap for me because I was certain he wouldn’t sign my book. It’s the one time I reckon a player is perfectly entitled to put their head down and ignore a fan, but I really wanted to get both autographs and I decided it was worth a shot. Cat and I waylaid him (not nearly as fun as it sounds) and he stopped for me. I showed him the book, he signed it and I said (in French) thank you very much and that I was very sorry (In French). He ran off before I had time to give him the things I had brought for him and Camille. I wasn’t going to bother him anymore, but I’d come so far already I took the chance. I ran after him, gave it to him (again, not as fun as it sounds) and said (in French) that it was a little present for him. He didn’t stop, but he looked at me, took the pressie and in the sweetest, softest, saddest voice he said “ahhhhh, merci. Merci beaucoup” *THUD* It was the worst possible time to talk to him and ask him for anything, and he’d have had every right to tell me to piss off and leave him alone, but he was polite and accommodating and cute as a button. And I managed to form normal sentences in front of him! In French! (did I mention that already?) It could have been a horrible day, but he turned it around for me. Aww, bless.
The day was finished off nicely with a couple of sets of Tommy R. Caught up with Dee who had been to see Marat implode (“Amigo, do not do this. You are starting to piss me off”) on Court 2 with Sue, while A&S were over with Nicolas Massu (Chi, Chi, Chi, Le, Le, Le, Viva Chile!) on court 10. My cousin had tix for No.1 and he popped down to see me, but there was no time to chat as Tommy has added a new noise to his repertoire. The covers came on about 5.30pm and after a bit of waiting around it was time to go home.
“May I have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen … Thank you for your patience. The latest reports from the London Weather Centre indicate that the clear, dry spells we have been expecting are almost here and that the showers we are experiencing will pass. Unfortunately, play is not expected to begin until
on any courts. Once again, thank you for your patience. We must remain optimistic.”
You might think a day of sitting in the pissing rain with no tennis would put a dampener (pardon the pun) on a day in Tennis World, but the wimbybabblers can make the best of any situation. The trick is to position yourself where you can see an endless stream of TT passing your way and the hours fly in.
So with no tennis to report, just a few general observations -
Mohammed Lahyani is the cheeriest man in TW.
Hundee Roddick ignores you when you shout “baaaa” at him.
….But Robby Ginepri turns around. Go figure.
Séb is waaaaay teenier than Nono.
Some people are interested in JMG for his tennis! No, really!
Despite being Grand Slam Champion and surrounded by security, Roger still has time to stop for our Sue. Aw!
Wimbledon landladies are all tightfisted bitches.
Blokes in Brumbies shirts are easily scared by wee Scottish people in kagouls. Pah! I thought Aussies were tough!
I can sleep sitting upright.
The Dog and Fox is much less fun in the rain, but still has talent.
Small, noisy American children who do not understand the rules of tennis should not be allowed into the All England. And neither should their parents.
You need to take out a bank loan to buy a round of Pimms. Thanks to Cat’s dad!
Hernan smokes a lot. Or is smokin’. One or the other.