An Audience of Two

So, at least I have two devoted commentators - Sandy B and Manu who have been fighting over Federer v Nadal here and here. Since this is my blog, I will comment in any way I like. I suspect that Manu has a bias against the French Open because so many unworthies have won it, like Michael Chang (for Goodness sakes!), Thomas Muster and Andres Gomez (who?). On the other hand, it takes a particular sort of person to win on clay - stamina will not win alone - you need to play a very good tactical match and think about what shot to play next, which is what Federer did in the first set against Nadal but failed to do thereafter. With Manu's argument that you don't need much to win on clay, just stamina, it might be said that you don't need much to win at Wimbledon, just a very good serve (look at Kraijeck and Ivanisevic). Agassi only won Wimbledon because he was, at his peak, the best returner of serve in the game. Anyway, you cannot compare Nadal to Chang, Muster or even Hewitt. Nadal has many more shots and is, generally, a much more tactical player than these. To get the mental edge over the best player currently playing (and some say the best in the world) requires something special, no doubt.

In other sporting news, Tiger Woods is about to start the US Open golf tournament after a couple of months off after his father died. Usually, Tiger is the most bland interviewee with phrases such as "i've just got to grind it out" or "I'm striking the ball really well" about the most controversial thing he says. But apparently yesterday his interview was different. He said:

"I really had no desire to get back to the game of golf because a lot of the memories I have with my dad are at the golf course"

Now, without wishing to compare myself with Tiger when it comes to golf, I related to this completely. I have hardly been on a golf course since dad died and the fact that when I have (I think really only once) I was using his old clubs has made it harder. I started playing golf really just to hang out with my dad a bit more until it turned into a fortnightly obsession. I really really miss playing a round with my dad, seeing his unorthodox stance and the fact that whatever club he used (apart from a putter) he would always hit it no more and no less than 150 yards. More than that it was just the sheer joy he took out of the game, how relaxed it made him (apart from duff balls of course) and the fact that it was usually just me and him shooting the shit. It really kills me knowing that I'll never have a chat about nothing and everything over a beer in the clubhouse bar after a satisfying 18 holes.

Still, if Tiger can get back on the horse, so to speak, so can I...