Monday, July 07, 2008
Wimbledon Fortnight was always a big deal in our house.
My Mum was mad on tennis.
I was mad on Jimmy Connors.
I loved that he never gave up on a game and didn't seem to know when he was dead & buried.
For two weeks my Dad's tea was never on the table when he got in from work.
It all went wrong somewhere.
I lost interest when you couldn't tell you who was who anymore. Serve Big - win point, Serve Not-Quite-So-Big - lose point. No guile, no grace, no sheer bloody-mindedness.
But, for some reason, I decided I'd watch the final yesterday. When it still wasn't over at nine o'clock I thought I'd be pulling a sickie today.
It was like the Old Days. My Mum would've loved it.
Alligator - The National