Understanding the world, and all its parts

[bronze_ribbons]

[Subject line from Robert Pinsky's Tennis]

My original plans for the day have been curtailed by my left foot (not sure what I did, but I can't put weight on it, which precludes gadding to/from hot chicken festivals and fireworks and the like) and some encroaching deadlines, but I have a pitcher of iced peach tea at the ready and a whole raft of Haru wo Daiteita fics by geri-chan that I'm going to reward myself with as soon as I put some reasonable distance between me and Canis deadlinus chompus.

Not that that's stopped me from obsessively following Wimbledon. Proud of Dementieva for showing up with a serve, and especially proud of Roddick for working so hard to raise his game to finalist level. I do like Muzz (he's Scottish, he's fond of his dog, and his head's screwed on right -- "It's a pathetic attitude to lose one match and let it ruin your year"), but I'm pleased as punch that A-Rod prevailed in four sets, and I'll be happy about either him or Federer winning tomorrow as long as A-Rod brings his A+ game and pushes Federer to earn the darn thing. (Not that Federer won't have earned it otherwise, but I want to see more of him in flight. Match point yesterday against Haas was lovely to behold.)

Also (with apologies to aunty_marion), I have to say that following yesterday's semifinal via livetexts (BBC, Guardian, and Wimby) and scoreboarding (we get neither cable nor NBC at my house -- long story -- and the videostreams I've tried so far send my hard drive into seizures) was highly entertaining. There was one UK member of the TennisWorld forum who periodically burst out with lines from "Scots wha hae," and Stephen Fry let loose on Twitter with "Oh, in the name of cock-mothering arse mustard" mid-match and "Holy suck-pigging BITCH!" upon its conclusion. The Wimbledon Poet has posted A-Rod's iPod War Boast, which may be the first Beowulf-Rick Astley mashup in the history of online poetry.

Speaking of online poetry, I have three new pieces up at Dead Mule: "The Language of Waiting," "Fuel," and "Sonic Crochet Hook."

Comments

[aunty_marion]

*g* Oh, I enjoyed the semi-final - it was great, and there were some wonderful shots. Just a shame that Murray lost, but he's only 22! We can still hope... Unfortunately, I'll be off at an archery shoot tomorrow (assuming my health holds out - I've had a return of the Cough O'Doom and am back on the Prednisolone and Clarithromycin, bah), so I shall completely miss the men's final. I suppose I could take the little 'sports' radio with me...

Today's Times sports section has a humorous article about people who should be removed as spectators, including those who shout 'Come on, Tim!' in any match not including anybody called Tim. Afraid to say I was at fault of this yesterday... *g*

[bronze_ribbons]

I confess I don't care for Mr. Henman myself, so the practice baffles me. Are you a Tim-loyalist, a Murray-hater, simply indulging in the joy of perversity, and/or demonstrating some other coded aspect of British spectatorship? *g*

Sorry to hear the cough's back - I'm not too hard hit at the moment, though I've had to haul out the Advair-haler several times.

As for the final itself, I am unapologetically skipping church tomorrow. It is a holiday weekend here. ;-)

[aunty_marion]

Oh, no, it's just that everyone's been shouting 'Come on, Tim!' for (it feels like) so many years now, whether they like him or not - he's a British Player! He gets to Semi-Finals! Come on, Tim! Just silliness. He's just been the 'best' UK player for a while, is all, really. They're still calling the outside big-screen-watching area Henman Hill (despite the efforts of some to change it to Murray Mount).

The cough is now easing, after only two days of the Good Drugs. I missed the last match because of not being able to breathe properly, so feel I ought to try and make this one.