in all aspects of his tennis game, roger federer is a brilliant player. not even midway to his career, the cool, calm, controlled swiss has a clear track to every ATP tour events he takes part in. he dominates the court, he dominates his matches a
nd what is scary is he makes his serve and volley style excel in clay as well. because unlike sampras or becker, the swiss machine has also collected an array of clay titles. and this year, the only person who could challenge his ascendancy to the top of the totem pole is a flashy, flamboyant spaniard. but federer’s encounters with one rafael nadal were close matches and could have gone either way nary for the nipper’s resilient nerves. so federer could still march his way to the french open finals and the coveted title and complete his conglomeration of grand slam trophies and winner’s cheques. but rather than one-way traffic at roland garros, it’s more exciting with nadal in the mix. he is after all the defending
champion. wimbledon is another matter altogether. gone are the days when tim henman could beat federer in grass. the nearly 25 year-old champ has been undefeated in grass in four years, so it would take something special to clamp down his reign. roddick, a talent that he is, was all but bamboozled last year. safin needs an epiphany. unless nadal becomes a bjorn borg or andy murray would ignite britain in a world cup year, it would be federer again who’ll suit up in his finest tux at wimbledon champion’s dinner. the us open would be more fair game with the presence of nadal. didn’t he beat federer in dubai? but other than nadal, others shouldn’t just wilt and turn into a puddle when facing federer. at this junction though, that’s how all the cookies are crumbling.
Archive for May, 2006
one, two men’s tennis
sourpuss
mean girls is not just a lindsay lohan feature. or a chick flick set in a high school wonderland. in my florence nightingale realm, they’re actually living, breathing creatures who constantly need reminding of how amazing they are. they reside in our work quarters when we’re the newbie still finding your stride or a grizzled veteran about to leave the door. one of the nicest people i know advised me to just ignore them. easier for her to say. she’s like a gwyneth paltrow sans the wet nurse. the mean girl doesn’t always dress like carrie bradshaw or regina george. in all appearances, she could be the loud griper with hair extensions from the fourth world. or a pimply-faced 45-year-old who undulates from generous to cheapskate in a beat. or a 5-9 gabrielle solis with pre-school kids. there isn’t a way to avoid them ever in life. they exist everywhere. how can they not? but it’s definitely more relaxing when they’re not around.