I sit in sparkling's front room watching the semi-final at Wimbledon, Andy Murray versus the Spaniard Rafael Nadal. I'm told Andy is a Scott, a Scott with emphasis and England only won the would cup in 1966 so "get over it." Nadal has a look about him which raises the heckles on my neck. He reminds me of the Portuguese footballer who had Beckham booked. Ronaldo, who is probably one of the highest paid self opinionated arrogant players there has ever been. Sparkles says "Murray" in a disappointed tone as he has missed another court shot, oops and there goes a "tut, for god's sake." Yep looks like Murray is making a sours ear out of it. He's got to pick himself up and stop being dour-faced. It's the determination of the second set. Come on Murray, beat the arrogant puffed up cockerel called Nadal. It's all about confidence. Yes a shot has slipped passed Nadal, brilliant.
Sparkling, has plugged the laptop in, I say thanks and she reminds me "see the things I do for you." Mind I could of said the same here to this morning, after getting up about 3:00 a.m. to let the screaming cat in. Only hitting the hay at 1:30 a.m., not to mention, pulling the garden waste bin out on the street, of course I couldn't do this in my pyjamas so had to put my clothes. I looked a little bedraggled to say the least. Fortunately nobody I knew saw me. Then there was opening the door to Mr L & B man just after 9:00 a.m., who had been working all night long. He said I looked bad, I looked like shit, he was right. I hadn't had a decent night sleep no wonder I felt like crap as well. I glance up at the telly continuously and Murray has thrown his racket down at the court. It bounces up about 8 feet and drops down dead again. He's lost it. He needs to focus. He needs a sports psychologist, it's all in his head, he can do it but he reminds me of the England football team when they went on the pitch to play Algeria, a third rate football nation they should of beaten with both arms tied behind their back. It's all about mental ability. I lost mine at about 2 p.m. and had to lay on the bed with the cat as company while my head went dizzy and I allowed my body to become a leadened sack of bones. The cat didn't say anything, well he couldn't, I'd let him in early he owes me.
Rock Chick is in the kitchen making cakes, tomorrow is a big party. It's her official 18th birthday party, though her real birthday was a few days earlier. I'm getting it constantly in the ear because the laptop I ordered has not been sent by a third party seller on Amazon. I've sent them three emails and had no reply to any. In the ten days which have passed since I ordered it, it still has not been dispatched. I've never had this happen to me before. But as I said to Rock "all comes to those who wait." I look at the centre court and see the odd famous personality and a lot of rich middle and upper class people. Some even with children. I wonder if their child really understands and appreciates as they eat their ice cream. Wimbledon history in the making. How come some of these well to do people don't go and find some less wealthy tennis fanatic who would really appreciate the event. Something which would be a life time memory rather than a little brat being dragged along and in all reality would rather be be playing their X-box. Then again it's variety of experience which helps make us what we are, not the same repeated depressing ones. Spinning an optimistic light on it, any individual who has come through a less privileged background in growing up will be made of stronger stuff than those snotty nosed and otherwise inclined. Murray is showing a small balding patch on his crown as he bounces the ball then lean down to catch it as it returns from the ground. The crowd shout for Murray, he needs any support he can get, hell if there's a doctor in the crowd and you have a trust please step forward. Third set and 4:4, I'm damn glad I didn't put a bet on the Scotsman. Better not let Sparkles hear me say it. No I should say, I'm damn glad I didn't put a bet on the British-man. O.K. it is through adversity true character rises to the surface, come on Murray. Shite he's lost the game. Well, I'll just go and make a cup of coffee and eat some chocolate, the world is always a lot better after some chocolate.
Nadal has won, he throws his swet bands into the crowd. I bet they will pong. Oh well Murry, give me a ring, I got a packet of Chocolate Flakes, come and share one with me, unless Rock had got her hands on them.
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