Wimble-dull

As you may have read below, I do enjoy the odd game of tennis, particularly if I'm victorious, but I can't stand to watch it on TV. 

I've tried, I really have, but it's just so relentlessly dull.  It'll take more than a few wisecracks from John McEnroe to liven up a men's game a Grand Slam event.  Five sets!  Five bloody sets!  Are they trying to bore us to death?!

"Wow, he served an ace.  Look how fast it was!  Oh, he's done it again - and again."

Yes, I appreciate the years of dedication that go into serving a ball that accurately at 137 mph - but it doesn't make for a great spectator sport.  And let's not get started on the spectators.  Oh go on then, I will...

Has there ever been a more embarrassing sight than "Henman Hill?"  I know it made me ashamed to be British.  There they sat with their Pimms and strawberries - the yummy mummies, the batty old grannies and that wanker in the Union Jack hat - all cheering Tiger Tim.  Never in the history of sport has a nickname been less apt.  For Tim was not the King of the Jungle.  There was no snarl, but rather a pathetically clenched fist.  There was no bite, no bottle, not a shred of killer instinct.  A nice guy, yes.  A tiger, most definitely not.

Now he too sits in the commentary box, alongside McEnroe.  If he talks as good a game as when he played, that's yet another reason I won't be watching...

 

Not Quite Wimbledon

Court 6. SW12: 20:00 hours.

20:07:00 - sprint towards the net with the aim of making a spectacular return shot.

20:07:05 - spectacular shot backfires. Badly.... Ball in Court 7.

20:07:15 - sheepishly stare down at racket and tighten strings. Blame error on racket tension.



20:13:00 - Fire a powerful first serve, this time into Court 5.

20:13:25 - The two guys playing on Court 5 return the ball to us - and decide to take a breather. This involves watching our game. In particular, my second service.

20:13:45 - Blame error on gust of wind.



20:34:00 - Return the ball with a smash that I believe Nadal would have been happy with.

20:34:30 - Ponder the thought of a wildcard entry to Wimbledon in two years. If i can keep this kind of form up.

20:36:00 - Looks like I can't.



20:44:00 - Immensely proud. Win the set 6-2. Against a girl. Who has played tennis a whole six times before.

20:44:20 - Walk to net and offer my hand. Insist on the shake for the "sake of tradition." Girlfriend looks at me like I'm a tosser.

Shameless attempt to win back Brownie Points...

Of course, there are plenty of good reasons God made girlfriends too...

Why God Made Pubs and Mates?

"What's this?"
"The football"
"What football?"
"It's Italy against France!"
"Do you really expect me to watch this?"
"It's an important game..."
"Really?"
"Yeah...they were both in the World Cup Final two years ago - and now both of them could go out tonight. It should be a great match..."

PAUSE

"Come on, this is like me making you watch the ballet."
"No, it's not. It's nothing like that."
"It's exactly like that."

SILENCE.

BATTLE FOR REMOTE - WON.
ANY BROWNIE POINTS RECENTLY ACQUIRED - LOST. OH, SO LOST...

The Orange Order

So England aren't at Euro 2008. This might sound a little heartless, but "boo-bloody-hoo."

Okay, maybe that was more childish than heartless, but my point is at least anyone who's English has had the chance to watch their team grace a major tournament. I've never once had that. So go on, spare me a thought. Please...

You see, I'm Welsh, so this summer is no different to any other even-numbered year. We're not there. In fact, usually we don't even get close. Just two or three games into qualifying, any realistic hopes of making the Finals disappear, as we capitulate to a former Soviet state in a "must-win" match. It doesn't seem to matter which "stan" it is, they're always a proverbial banana skin for us. For a short while afterwards we're able to console ourselves with the fact that "mathematically, we could still qualify." However, this dream usually involves an unlikely away-win for Lichenstein against the Azzuri - with a result of say, 0-7....

So how do you cope when your team is not in it? Well, bitterness and resentment make for a good start. Focus on a pretty appalling team - take France for instance - and wonder how the hell they got there, while you didn't. Start to enjoy their every mistake and misfortune. You'll soon find you feel much happier....you'll even start to enjoy some of the great football other teams are playing.

Take the Netherlands. There can't be a true football fan who hasn't been won over by the Dutch. They've just been sublime. God, I've even warmed to Van Nistelrooy.

What's best about their winning streak is that while they beat France 4-1 and Italy 3-0, an understrength Wales only lost 2-0 to Holland a few weeks ago. A sure sign that we're in a better state than the World Cup finalists! You know what, I think we could just make the 2010 World Cup. Seriously.

Oh, hang on a minute. First up, September 6th, Azerbaijan...