2 posts tagged “tennis”

I'm working from home today, in my Noel Coward dressing gown. When I woke up, I couldn't quite remember why on earth I'd promised to work for a few hours on my day off. But then the logic came back to me - had I not had something to get up for, I'd have slept until, oooh, half past three in the afternoon. Monday is the day my body regenerates from the sleep deprivation of the previous week - today, I had a reason to stop that from happening. So if my arm falls off, you'll know why.

As an added bonus, I'm getting to watch Andy Murray play Nadal in the Australian open. Murray is basically a hyper-confident wind up merchant - a growling, disgustingly ugly velociraptor of a tennis player. He is the antithesis of Tim 'flid' Henman - one of the most ridiculously talentled players I've ever seen, but with the unfortunate mental capacity to convince himself that he doesn't have any arms and legs at crucial moments of career-defining matches. I loved Henman, and thought the negative press he received was ridiculously harsh for the best British player in twenty years or so, but one can understand why the papers couldn't help but paint him as a one-man embodiment of the desperate self-loathing hopes and fears of middle England. The military father, the posh wife - he was just too, too perfect. And so maybe it's good he failed, from a symbolic point of view at any rate.

I've no idea whether Murray will win this one or not (he's a set up and his opponent, the drugged-up Spaniard wonderkid, is looking a bit rattled) - but now we have a tennis-playing equivalent of the West Lothian question instead.

Isn't sport great?

I've just been informed that 20six is about to change, utterly. This is the first I've heard of it. What's going on? I haven't backed up this blog at all, so if the changeover goes badly and my blog is imminently to be lost in the internet ether, then I suggest you read it now. Go on, read the whole thing. There's loads of stuff on there, mainly about noodles, tea, Wimpy, Woodies, Tudor Williams and Samira Ahmed, but I'd like to think that I've made an excellent contribution to the karmic state of New Malden. Thanks to all the people who have come up to me in pubs and on trains to say that my blog is good - even if you were lying through your weasel teeth, it was still nice to hear.

As one, final New Malden entry before the brave new world, I'd like to tell you about the tennis courts at Beverley Park.

They're nice, and they're free. There used to be two of them, but lo - there are now three, which means you don't have to wait quite so long to get a game, though be warned - there's a guy in a dodgy tracksuit who looks like Beat Takeshi, and he is the King of New Malden tennis. He has many family members, and they come and go, like the seasons, but he remains on court, sweating politely, barking orders and messing up backhands. Keep an eye out for him.

I had a match against Alastair there on Tuesday afternoon. Alastair and I have a long running tennis rivalry, and it works well as we're fairly evenly matched in ability - his powerful hitting, excellent sporting brain and ludicrous competitiveness is neatly counterbalanced by my (occasionally) accurate forehand, my (sporadic) mastery of spin, and the fact I can actually run.

Neither of us ever actually wins. It invariably gets to one set all, then Alastair is invariably too knackered to play a decider, so we agree upon a slightly disappointing draw, and head off in search of junk food and booze.