My mood improved in the middle of the week but has since taken another dive. It's physical as well as mental. I should probably see the doctor, but all this depression stuff now feels so normal. It's got to the stage where it's part of what I am.
I rang up my prospective flatmate this morning to give him the green light. There are now a few flatmate-related things I have to organise, and I don't feel like doing any of them.
Tom came over today. I still feel a bit uncomfortable with him around. He likes to get his mitts on any digital device I might have. Why haven't you added this or customised that? Jeez Tom, that's really really low priority for me at the moment. He mentioned Java programming again. Apparently arsing around with code, even if it serves no purpose, is fun fun fun all the way, and highly rewarding. I would like to learn Java, with a distinct purpose in mind, but I don't see that happening any time soon. Where will the time come from? The concentration? (I couldn't read a novel at the moment.) Of course Tom is pretty knowledgeable about the ever-changing digital world, and he was able to tell me what a "flat" iPhone design was. How can an iPhone screen not be flat? It turns out that "flat" just means no effects such as gradients or 3D or translucency (supposedly all that stuff, which was all the rage not so long ago, is now old hat).
Well done to Li Na on a fully-deserved Australian Open title. It's her second grand slam; she also won the French Open in 2011. The first set of tonight's match was a real belter - it could have gone either way. Cibulkova, the surprise finalist, certainly played her part too. Li Na almost exited the tournament over a week ago when she faced a match point, which means I need to update this page.
Let's hope Stan the Man at least puts up a good fight against Nadal tomorrow.
Showing posts with label australian open. Show all posts
Showing posts with label australian open. Show all posts
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Flatting and statting
It looks like I've got a flatmate. I was iffy about this guy - who is probably thirtyish - when he phoned me yesterday, but when he came over with his dad last night he seemed like quite a safe option. He's embarking a two-year web design course - the school/college is just a short walk from here. Last night they were frantically measuring things and deciding on where certain items of furniture would go, as if they'd already moved in. Unsurprisingly the guy rang me today to say he's keen to move in; I've promised to show someone around tomorrow so I couldn't quite give him the OK, but I did say he was well in the lead. It'll be strange living with another person - it's nearly seven years since I last did so.
I listened to almost all of Stan the Man Wawrinka's stunning win over Djokovic on Tuesday night (and paid for it the next day). It was one of those times I really wished I had Sky, although the commentators paint a pretty good picture. I was glad Wawrinka won. He dominated the middle part of the match, and was able to hold off Djokovic with some big first serves on the crucial points in the fifth set. From the commentary, he was the deserving winner (and I was surprised to find out that he won eight fewer points than his opponent - it goes to show how important the big points are). It's nice to see the one-handed backhand come back - it just looks good. Just think of Federer's one-hander. I'd love to see Wawrinka win the whole thing now; that outcome isn't totally out of the question.
Now for some boring (to most people) tennis stats and probability stuff. It would seem that matches where the loser wins the most points are more common than I thought. From what I read online, Federer has lost 24 matches in his career having won the most points, which is a lot when you think how little losing he's done. On the other side of the coin, John Isner has been out-pointed in 20 of his career wins, including that match. He hasn't been on the tour all that long, so to rack up 20 such victories already is no mean feat. It might almost be a mindset thing for him - he'll do enough to hang on to his serve, maybe not put that much effort into the return games, and then put all his energy into the tie-break which he excels at, probably because he gets so much practice at them.
Although I never had point tallies when I played interclub, I'm pretty sure a couple of my singles wins saw me win less than half the points, and if that kind of thing even happened to me at the standard I played at, it must happen quite a lot to the pros where serve dominates, matches are generally closer, and individual points can be much more important.
I mentioned this before, but the Australian Open website gives you a plethora of facts and figures and charts and graphs for each match, and most of it isn't worth looking at. Like the "keys to the match". One of Djokovic's "keys" in his match with Wawrinka was "average more than 7.2 points per game returning". What?! I can see the idea of that I suppose. Lots of long return games means he's making good inroads into Wawrinka's service games. But 7.2 is a really high average. (If all points were 50:50, regardless of who serves, you'd get to 6.75, and any advantage to the server would only decrease this average.) It would take something quite bizarre to reach 7.2 in a long men's match, like a player being dominant on serve on the deuce side but struggling badly on the ad side. Frankly it looks like that figure was plucked out of thin air. Unsurprisingly, Djokovic didn't reach the target (it says he averaged 6.8, but that doesn't tally with the stats - 170 points in 26 return games gives an average of 6.54, which is actually still quite high).
I spoke to Mum tonight following Cibulkova's upset thrashing of Radwanska in the semis. Cibulkova is about the same height as Mum, but their physical similarities end right there. The Czech player blasted an out-of-sorts Radwanska off the court to set up a final with Li Na.
I listened to almost all of Stan the Man Wawrinka's stunning win over Djokovic on Tuesday night (and paid for it the next day). It was one of those times I really wished I had Sky, although the commentators paint a pretty good picture. I was glad Wawrinka won. He dominated the middle part of the match, and was able to hold off Djokovic with some big first serves on the crucial points in the fifth set. From the commentary, he was the deserving winner (and I was surprised to find out that he won eight fewer points than his opponent - it goes to show how important the big points are). It's nice to see the one-handed backhand come back - it just looks good. Just think of Federer's one-hander. I'd love to see Wawrinka win the whole thing now; that outcome isn't totally out of the question.
Now for some boring (to most people) tennis stats and probability stuff. It would seem that matches where the loser wins the most points are more common than I thought. From what I read online, Federer has lost 24 matches in his career having won the most points, which is a lot when you think how little losing he's done. On the other side of the coin, John Isner has been out-pointed in 20 of his career wins, including that match. He hasn't been on the tour all that long, so to rack up 20 such victories already is no mean feat. It might almost be a mindset thing for him - he'll do enough to hang on to his serve, maybe not put that much effort into the return games, and then put all his energy into the tie-break which he excels at, probably because he gets so much practice at them.
Although I never had point tallies when I played interclub, I'm pretty sure a couple of my singles wins saw me win less than half the points, and if that kind of thing even happened to me at the standard I played at, it must happen quite a lot to the pros where serve dominates, matches are generally closer, and individual points can be much more important.
I mentioned this before, but the Australian Open website gives you a plethora of facts and figures and charts and graphs for each match, and most of it isn't worth looking at. Like the "keys to the match". One of Djokovic's "keys" in his match with Wawrinka was "average more than 7.2 points per game returning". What?! I can see the idea of that I suppose. Lots of long return games means he's making good inroads into Wawrinka's service games. But 7.2 is a really high average. (If all points were 50:50, regardless of who serves, you'd get to 6.75, and any advantage to the server would only decrease this average.) It would take something quite bizarre to reach 7.2 in a long men's match, like a player being dominant on serve on the deuce side but struggling badly on the ad side. Frankly it looks like that figure was plucked out of thin air. Unsurprisingly, Djokovic didn't reach the target (it says he averaged 6.8, but that doesn't tally with the stats - 170 points in 26 return games gives an average of 6.54, which is actually still quite high).
I spoke to Mum tonight following Cibulkova's upset thrashing of Radwanska in the semis. Cibulkova is about the same height as Mum, but their physical similarities end right there. The Czech player blasted an out-of-sorts Radwanska off the court to set up a final with Li Na.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Tennis - at various levels
Today I played tennis, for the first time in ages, with the Meetup group. It was stupidly windy out there (wind must play a huge part in Wellington interclub competition). We didn't play any games, which was probably just as well. One of the guys had never played before, and didn't seem to care that he couldn't keep any kind of rally going, or even hit the ball a lot of the time. I didn't care much either, but I would have felt extremely self-conscious in his situation. He kept talking about "Sanchez shots" as if someone called Sanchez was currently a top-ranked male tennis player. We later ascertained that he meant Sampras. As for me, I enjoyed the hit-out and wouldn't mind getting back into it properly if I could find the time.
When I got home after tennis, Ana Ivanovic had just taken the second set in her shock three-set win over Serena Williams. I was happy with that result - I've never been a huge Serena fan, and I remember seeing Ivanovic as a teenager in 2005 and I was mighty impressed with her. There was some drama as Serena served at 2-5 in the final set. She was (rather unfairly) given a time violation, and responded by taking virtually no time in between points. She hung onto her serve, saving a match point, but Ivanovic served out to love, beating the player everyone said was unbeatable. It was a great performance, regardless of any injury Serena might have had, and any of the dozen players left in the tournament has a chance of lifting the trophy.
I've just updated my CV, but I guess I need several versions. It's tricky - I'm saying, look, this is what I've done for the last ten years, but that's all irrelevant because now I don't want to do anything remotely like it.
When I got home after tennis, Ana Ivanovic had just taken the second set in her shock three-set win over Serena Williams. I was happy with that result - I've never been a huge Serena fan, and I remember seeing Ivanovic as a teenager in 2005 and I was mighty impressed with her. There was some drama as Serena served at 2-5 in the final set. She was (rather unfairly) given a time violation, and responded by taking virtually no time in between points. She hung onto her serve, saving a match point, but Ivanovic served out to love, beating the player everyone said was unbeatable. It was a great performance, regardless of any injury Serena might have had, and any of the dozen players left in the tournament has a chance of lifting the trophy.
I've just updated my CV, but I guess I need several versions. It's tricky - I'm saying, look, this is what I've done for the last ten years, but that's all irrelevant because now I don't want to do anything remotely like it.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Need to make a change I can embrace
I did manage two hours' sleep shortly after my last post, and felt surprisingly awake on Saturday. The Beatles cover concert wasn't bad at all. OK, the band (who we could hardly see because there was a tree in the way) seemed to lack energy at times, but heck it was free. The audience was younger than I expected, but when you think about it the weather was excellent, it didn't cost anything, and most importantly you could bring as much alcohol as you wanted. They finished with Hey Jude which I think would be my favourite Beatles song.
On Sunday I caught up with a woman from the autism group. We had a coffee and a long chat. Unusually for someone at the group, she's in a long-term relationship. When I talked about work she knew exactly where I was coming from (and that's unusual anywhere). She's had serious problems with depression and is on the maximum dose of Efexor and that's not all. She's also carrying a lot of excess weight. In fact her dream is to design clothes, that aren't tents and don't cost a fortune, for larger women.
Monday was a very fine day and after work I sat out on the waterfront. Two stingrays swam by, one of which was practically man-sized. It was an amazing sight; the last time I saw anything like that was at Kelly Tarlton's a long time ago. I then attended the first autism group of the year. I mentioned work, of course, and got all kinds of job ideas from bars to libraries.
Looking back over work-related blog posts from 2009 and 2012 (it's amazing how much I've forgotten), my latest experience is giving me a real sense of déjà vu. I absolutely have to leave the world of big faceless insurance companies, or else it'll be déjà vu all over again in my next job. It never ceases to amaze me that some of my colleagues don't just tolerate the environment, where everything you do is monitored at all times, they seem to enjoy it. I can sort of understand it with the younger ones, for whom privacy is a foreign concept (and I think you're naturally more competitive at that age), but when people get into their forties and fifties and are still driven by targets and KPIs that have been foisted upon them by some authority figure, I'm completely baffled.
On Thursday the global CEO sent us all a 32-meg email, which was nice because we have a whopping 150 meg of storage and can't send anything over three meg ourselves. The email outlined a three-point plan for us all to follow. First, put our customers at the centre of everything. Fair enough. Second, adapt to change faster. Embrace change. That's always a tough one for me. The last one though was like someone had Googled "corporate bullshit" and tried to cram as many buzzwords in one sentence as possible; I had no idea what it meant.
I am looking for jobs now but it's very hard to know what I should be applying for.
It's been a very hot Australian Open so far. Inhumanely so. It's not fun for anyone. The extreme heat policy doesn't really work, and I wonder whether it'll take loss of life for them to change anything. The temperature has since plummeted but it's pretty muggy out there now. It's interesting listening to the commentators. Today they were talking about the demise of serve-and-volley. In 2001 Roger Federer beat Pete Sampras at Wimbledon (7-5 in the fifth set - I remember it) by coming in on almost every serve, and of course Sampras did the same. Now they're saying racket technology would make that style of play almost impossible, which is a shame. The tournament website has something called Slam Tracker, an analysis section run by IBM. You click on a match and it brings up three options. One of the options is entitled "momentum" and it's almost totally meaningless. A much better idea would be to show the estimated probability of a player winning the match given the current situation. It would be easy to understand and show the relative importance of each point, which I think people would find interesting. The second option is called "social sentiment" and shows a graph of the number of positive tweets each player has received. My first thought to that is, who cares? My second thought is, how do they know? Do they search for key words in tweets so they can tell whether they're positive or negative? What if you describe a player as "amazingly crap"? It's all a mystery to me - I wouldn't know a hashtag if it walloped me on the nose. The third option just shows the stats, and that's the only bit worth looking at.
People aren't buying the app, and that's hardly surprising because there isn't much to entice people to buy. There's so much you could do to make it really good, but the current developers aren't capable of making the (extensive) necessary changes. It's frustrating when you see what other apps have done. I was recently introduced to Wordament, a Boggle-style game involving a 4x4 grid of letters. You have to connect the letters together (diagonally is OK) to make as many words as you can in two minutes, but that's most definitely not all. Everybody plays the same game at the same time, and at the end of the game you can see how you stack up against the rest of the world. The games aren't all a simple find-as-many-words-as-you-can: sometimes there are themes or multiple letters on one space or some other variation, and that all adds considerable variety. The hardest variant is the one where you get a hefty bonus for making a certain long word, which is difficult to find when you're trying to make other words as well. My only gripe would be the arbitrary distinction between "common" and "obscure" words: some of the "common" words (which can give you more points) actually seem quite obscure, and vice-versa. Because I don't have a Facebook presence or an iPhone, I can only play as a guest, but that's fine by me. I'd give Wordament 4 stars.
On Sunday I caught up with a woman from the autism group. We had a coffee and a long chat. Unusually for someone at the group, she's in a long-term relationship. When I talked about work she knew exactly where I was coming from (and that's unusual anywhere). She's had serious problems with depression and is on the maximum dose of Efexor and that's not all. She's also carrying a lot of excess weight. In fact her dream is to design clothes, that aren't tents and don't cost a fortune, for larger women.
Monday was a very fine day and after work I sat out on the waterfront. Two stingrays swam by, one of which was practically man-sized. It was an amazing sight; the last time I saw anything like that was at Kelly Tarlton's a long time ago. I then attended the first autism group of the year. I mentioned work, of course, and got all kinds of job ideas from bars to libraries.
Looking back over work-related blog posts from 2009 and 2012 (it's amazing how much I've forgotten), my latest experience is giving me a real sense of déjà vu. I absolutely have to leave the world of big faceless insurance companies, or else it'll be déjà vu all over again in my next job. It never ceases to amaze me that some of my colleagues don't just tolerate the environment, where everything you do is monitored at all times, they seem to enjoy it. I can sort of understand it with the younger ones, for whom privacy is a foreign concept (and I think you're naturally more competitive at that age), but when people get into their forties and fifties and are still driven by targets and KPIs that have been foisted upon them by some authority figure, I'm completely baffled.
On Thursday the global CEO sent us all a 32-meg email, which was nice because we have a whopping 150 meg of storage and can't send anything over three meg ourselves. The email outlined a three-point plan for us all to follow. First, put our customers at the centre of everything. Fair enough. Second, adapt to change faster. Embrace change. That's always a tough one for me. The last one though was like someone had Googled "corporate bullshit" and tried to cram as many buzzwords in one sentence as possible; I had no idea what it meant.
I am looking for jobs now but it's very hard to know what I should be applying for.
It's been a very hot Australian Open so far. Inhumanely so. It's not fun for anyone. The extreme heat policy doesn't really work, and I wonder whether it'll take loss of life for them to change anything. The temperature has since plummeted but it's pretty muggy out there now. It's interesting listening to the commentators. Today they were talking about the demise of serve-and-volley. In 2001 Roger Federer beat Pete Sampras at Wimbledon (7-5 in the fifth set - I remember it) by coming in on almost every serve, and of course Sampras did the same. Now they're saying racket technology would make that style of play almost impossible, which is a shame. The tournament website has something called Slam Tracker, an analysis section run by IBM. You click on a match and it brings up three options. One of the options is entitled "momentum" and it's almost totally meaningless. A much better idea would be to show the estimated probability of a player winning the match given the current situation. It would be easy to understand and show the relative importance of each point, which I think people would find interesting. The second option is called "social sentiment" and shows a graph of the number of positive tweets each player has received. My first thought to that is, who cares? My second thought is, how do they know? Do they search for key words in tweets so they can tell whether they're positive or negative? What if you describe a player as "amazingly crap"? It's all a mystery to me - I wouldn't know a hashtag if it walloped me on the nose. The third option just shows the stats, and that's the only bit worth looking at.
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| 15UP - yes it's the one I invented |
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| Wordament |
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tennis talking points
So Djokovic racked up another major title on Sunday by beating Murray. I correctly picked a 3-1 win for Djokovic but the match didn't pan out as I imagined it might. I never expected two such brilliant returners to hold serve 31 consecutive times before Djokovic finally broke. A turning point came in the second tie-break where Murray picked up a rogue feather off the court between his first and second serves, then promptly double-faulted. That's a situation I often encountered in my low-grade stuff: a leaf, a bug or (most commonly) an errant ball would stray onto the court after I missed my first serve. Do I remove the offending object (upsetting upset my rhythm, making a double fault more likely) or pretend it isn't there?
I'd say Murray is now world number two behind Djokovic, even if the official rankings say something else. His serve has become a lethal weapon of late; it'll make him increasingly difficult to beat.
Here are a few talking points (Warning: if you don't like tennis, please click the back button!)
Physicality
The first time I went to Wimbledon I saw a match on an outside court between two Latin Americans who would have better suited to a clay court. I couldn’t get over how hard they were larruping that ball and how fast they were moving, usually behind the baseline. Until then I’d only seen professional tennis on TV, which simply doesn’t do justice to the power and athleticism on show. That was in 1998; since then the physicality of men’s tennis has moved to another level – it’s almost like boxing now.
Equal prize money
This issue keeps coming up. Men play best-of-five at the Slams and women play best-of-three, so men work harder, so they should get paid more. Right? Well I happen to agree that men should get paid more than women currently, not because they play longer matches but because they offer a far more attractive product right now (ugh, please excuse the marketing speak). Since 2005 we’ve seen no end of awe-inspiring edge-of-the-seat men’s matches, but over the same period on the women’s side I’m really racking my brains. Certainly Venus v Davenport in the 2005 Wimbledon final, but then I’m struggling. And which female players really bring in the crowds any more? Sharapova, the Williams sisters, and that’s about it. It wasn’t always like this. In the nineties there were so many great matches involving Graf, Sanchez-Vicario, Seles, Novotna – even Hingis had her moments – while some of the men’s finals (like Sampras v Ivanisevic in the 1994 Wimbledon final) were sleep-inducing.
Three sets or five?
This follows on from the prize-money issue. To make things “fairer”, it has been suggested that women play best-of-five at the majors or that men play best-of-three.
I don’t think women playing five sets throughout the tournament would get bums on seats, so I reckon that’s a non-starter at this point in time. Plenty of early-round women’s matches finish 6-0 6-1 (or similar); I’m not sure what playing another set would achieve. However I could certainly see them playing five sets in grand slam finals and probably semi-finals as well. Too often a women’s final is over in no time.
As for men playing the shorter format, for the love of god NO! Yes it’s hard to win seven best-of-fives in a row, but winning a major is supposed to be hard. The longer format allows for so many more twists and turns, and it’s those fluctuations that make for classic matches. To illustrate, there are three ways of winning a best-of-three-set match: WW, WLW and LWW. But go to a best-of-five and there are ten ways: WWW, WWLW, WLWW, LWWW, WWLLW, WLWLW, WLLWW, LWWLW, LWLWW and LLWWW. If matches are going too long, change the court surface, the balls, the rackets, the strings, whatever, don’t change the match format.
I also think the Masters Series events (or whatever they call them now) need to have five-set finals and the season-ending championships absolutely need one.
Tie-breaks
What a great invention the tie-break was. Some people liken it to a football penalty shoot-out but in reality it’s nothing of the sort. A penalty shoot-out bears little resemblance to what came before (and is therefore, in my opinion, a really crappy way to decide a match) whereas a tennis tie-break is … more tennis! (A couple of caveats here: I’m happy for deciding sets of big tournaments to be tie-break-free, and as for the super tie-break that some events use to replace deciding sets, well that’s an abomination).
The very fact that two players have reached 6-6 in a set would suggest that they are evenly matched, so you’d expect most people to win roughly half their tie-breaks over a large sample size. But this clearly isn’t the case. Pete Sampras had a very impressive record, as does Roger Federer who’s won almost two-thirds of his 500-odd tie-breaks. What’s even more impressive about Federer’s record is how many of those tie-break wins have come at the business end of grand slams (he won all four breakers he played in the quarters and semis in Melbourne). How has he managed it? I’m guessing his mental fortitude has a lot to do with it. He also has a presence, an aura, which comes with being the Greatest of All Time, and I’m sure that intimidates opponents at the crucial moments of matches.
It’s often been said that tie-breaks favour the better server. I think that’s a myth; it has no logic behind it that I can see. If anything the tie-break should help the returner, who now longer has to win (at least) four points against the serve to prevail. Yes, John Isner (big server) is up there on the list, but Ivo Karlovic (another huge server) isn’t.
The calendar
There is often talk of player burn-out, and it’s one reason why some people want to eliminate five-setters on the men’s tour. I don’t think the match format needs changing, I think the calendar does. For a start, why does one of the biggest tournaments take place two weeks into the season? They should move the Aussie Open to November or March (when it isn’t stupidly hot) or, if they must keep it in January when people are in holiday mode, move the off-season to February and March. The tennis season doesn’t have to run on a calendar-year basis – look at other sports like football. There needs to be another week (or two) between the French Open and Wimbledon to give players more time on grass. Perhaps most importantly, they need to reduce the overall number of tournaments.
Grunting
How you enforce it I don’t know (decibel meter?) but something needs to be done. It’s not fair on the opponents of grunters and it’s not helping the image of women’s tennis at all. I saw a match between Maria Sharapova and Li Na at the Australian Open in 2005 and Sharapova’s grunting was so loud as to make the actual game secondary.
I'd say Murray is now world number two behind Djokovic, even if the official rankings say something else. His serve has become a lethal weapon of late; it'll make him increasingly difficult to beat.
Here are a few talking points (Warning: if you don't like tennis, please click the back button!)
Physicality
The first time I went to Wimbledon I saw a match on an outside court between two Latin Americans who would have better suited to a clay court. I couldn’t get over how hard they were larruping that ball and how fast they were moving, usually behind the baseline. Until then I’d only seen professional tennis on TV, which simply doesn’t do justice to the power and athleticism on show. That was in 1998; since then the physicality of men’s tennis has moved to another level – it’s almost like boxing now.
Equal prize money
This issue keeps coming up. Men play best-of-five at the Slams and women play best-of-three, so men work harder, so they should get paid more. Right? Well I happen to agree that men should get paid more than women currently, not because they play longer matches but because they offer a far more attractive product right now (ugh, please excuse the marketing speak). Since 2005 we’ve seen no end of awe-inspiring edge-of-the-seat men’s matches, but over the same period on the women’s side I’m really racking my brains. Certainly Venus v Davenport in the 2005 Wimbledon final, but then I’m struggling. And which female players really bring in the crowds any more? Sharapova, the Williams sisters, and that’s about it. It wasn’t always like this. In the nineties there were so many great matches involving Graf, Sanchez-Vicario, Seles, Novotna – even Hingis had her moments – while some of the men’s finals (like Sampras v Ivanisevic in the 1994 Wimbledon final) were sleep-inducing.
Three sets or five?
This follows on from the prize-money issue. To make things “fairer”, it has been suggested that women play best-of-five at the majors or that men play best-of-three.
I don’t think women playing five sets throughout the tournament would get bums on seats, so I reckon that’s a non-starter at this point in time. Plenty of early-round women’s matches finish 6-0 6-1 (or similar); I’m not sure what playing another set would achieve. However I could certainly see them playing five sets in grand slam finals and probably semi-finals as well. Too often a women’s final is over in no time.
As for men playing the shorter format, for the love of god NO! Yes it’s hard to win seven best-of-fives in a row, but winning a major is supposed to be hard. The longer format allows for so many more twists and turns, and it’s those fluctuations that make for classic matches. To illustrate, there are three ways of winning a best-of-three-set match: WW, WLW and LWW. But go to a best-of-five and there are ten ways: WWW, WWLW, WLWW, LWWW, WWLLW, WLWLW, WLLWW, LWWLW, LWLWW and LLWWW. If matches are going too long, change the court surface, the balls, the rackets, the strings, whatever, don’t change the match format.
I also think the Masters Series events (or whatever they call them now) need to have five-set finals and the season-ending championships absolutely need one.
Tie-breaks
What a great invention the tie-break was. Some people liken it to a football penalty shoot-out but in reality it’s nothing of the sort. A penalty shoot-out bears little resemblance to what came before (and is therefore, in my opinion, a really crappy way to decide a match) whereas a tennis tie-break is … more tennis! (A couple of caveats here: I’m happy for deciding sets of big tournaments to be tie-break-free, and as for the super tie-break that some events use to replace deciding sets, well that’s an abomination).
The very fact that two players have reached 6-6 in a set would suggest that they are evenly matched, so you’d expect most people to win roughly half their tie-breaks over a large sample size. But this clearly isn’t the case. Pete Sampras had a very impressive record, as does Roger Federer who’s won almost two-thirds of his 500-odd tie-breaks. What’s even more impressive about Federer’s record is how many of those tie-break wins have come at the business end of grand slams (he won all four breakers he played in the quarters and semis in Melbourne). How has he managed it? I’m guessing his mental fortitude has a lot to do with it. He also has a presence, an aura, which comes with being the Greatest of All Time, and I’m sure that intimidates opponents at the crucial moments of matches.
It’s often been said that tie-breaks favour the better server. I think that’s a myth; it has no logic behind it that I can see. If anything the tie-break should help the returner, who now longer has to win (at least) four points against the serve to prevail. Yes, John Isner (big server) is up there on the list, but Ivo Karlovic (another huge server) isn’t.
The calendar
There is often talk of player burn-out, and it’s one reason why some people want to eliminate five-setters on the men’s tour. I don’t think the match format needs changing, I think the calendar does. For a start, why does one of the biggest tournaments take place two weeks into the season? They should move the Aussie Open to November or March (when it isn’t stupidly hot) or, if they must keep it in January when people are in holiday mode, move the off-season to February and March. The tennis season doesn’t have to run on a calendar-year basis – look at other sports like football. There needs to be another week (or two) between the French Open and Wimbledon to give players more time on grass. Perhaps most importantly, they need to reduce the overall number of tournaments.
Grunting
How you enforce it I don’t know (decibel meter?) but something needs to be done. It’s not fair on the opponents of grunters and it’s not helping the image of women’s tennis at all. I saw a match between Maria Sharapova and Li Na at the Australian Open in 2005 and Sharapova’s grunting was so loud as to make the actual game secondary.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Welcome to summer!
What a marvellous weekend of weather we've had. So Wellington does get a summer after all. Not every year obviously, but I shouldn't complain.
I'd like to think I made the most of the sunshine. Yesterday I went tramping; we set off from the club just before 7:30 (I took my car) to do the Wainuiomata Catchment walk through an area of bushland that is normally human-free. The park ranger met us at the entrance and gave us a guided tour of Drummond Ridge and Skull Gully (a name that conjures up vivid images and also made me wonder where the word "skul(l)duggery" came from). The ranger pointed out fauna and flora along the way, although there isn't much fauna and that's by design. Last August they did an aerial drop of 1080 poison, they have lines of stoat and possum traps at regular intervals, although they do have a population of wild pigs, hence when they find a trapped possum they often find only its head. He was an expert on matters ecological; intervening in ecosystems is such a fine balancing act - by solving one problem you can so often create another. The trip lasted seven hours, although we did take fairly regular breaks. To be out in the open air for that length of time, and to get moderately heavy exercise, did me the power of good (thankfully we only got dappled sunlight so didn't get too hot). I can still feel those endorphins now. I'll put up some photos in my next post.
I hadn't been home long from the tramp when I went over to my cousin's place for a barbecue. She's off to America on business next week - again. Her three boys are such a nice bunch of kids.
This afternoon I had a swim in the sea, for the first time since I've lived in Wellington. I swam at Seatoun; I'd hardly call the water warm but (unusually for me) I went straight in.
I tried to listen to the womens' tennis final but I fell asleep early in the second set. When I woke up Azarenka had just completed her comeback to beat the unlucky Li Na. I couldn't believe some of the negative comments that were made following what was quite a dramatic three-set match. I'm sure much of the negativity was due to the result - Azarenka got a bad rap for that time-out she took towards the end of her semi-final. Some people had this to say: "What a shocking match: 16 service breaks!" I didn't understand that. How does a lack of service breaks imply a high-quality match? All it means is high quality of serve.
The men's semis were both enthralling in their own ways. Djokovic's demolition of Ferrer recalled Federer's dismantling of Roddick in the 2007 semis. I watched that match six years ago - in which Federer looked like he could just about walk on water - and by all accounts Djokovic flicked the switch over to god mode on Thursday. Andy Murray's victory over Federer was much tougher, but when I had a look at the stats, it seemed Murray was the better player by some margin and Federer did well to take the match to five.
As for the men's final, it's a tough one to pick. I make Djokovic a slight (maybe 55:45) favourite; I'll go for a four-set win for Djokovic, 6-4 7-6 2-6 6-3. Overall it's been an interesting tournament that has raised a number of issues, not least the question of equal prize money for men and women. I'll try and explore one or two of these issues in my next entry.
I'd like to think I made the most of the sunshine. Yesterday I went tramping; we set off from the club just before 7:30 (I took my car) to do the Wainuiomata Catchment walk through an area of bushland that is normally human-free. The park ranger met us at the entrance and gave us a guided tour of Drummond Ridge and Skull Gully (a name that conjures up vivid images and also made me wonder where the word "skul(l)duggery" came from). The ranger pointed out fauna and flora along the way, although there isn't much fauna and that's by design. Last August they did an aerial drop of 1080 poison, they have lines of stoat and possum traps at regular intervals, although they do have a population of wild pigs, hence when they find a trapped possum they often find only its head. He was an expert on matters ecological; intervening in ecosystems is such a fine balancing act - by solving one problem you can so often create another. The trip lasted seven hours, although we did take fairly regular breaks. To be out in the open air for that length of time, and to get moderately heavy exercise, did me the power of good (thankfully we only got dappled sunlight so didn't get too hot). I can still feel those endorphins now. I'll put up some photos in my next post.
I hadn't been home long from the tramp when I went over to my cousin's place for a barbecue. She's off to America on business next week - again. Her three boys are such a nice bunch of kids.
This afternoon I had a swim in the sea, for the first time since I've lived in Wellington. I swam at Seatoun; I'd hardly call the water warm but (unusually for me) I went straight in.
I tried to listen to the womens' tennis final but I fell asleep early in the second set. When I woke up Azarenka had just completed her comeback to beat the unlucky Li Na. I couldn't believe some of the negative comments that were made following what was quite a dramatic three-set match. I'm sure much of the negativity was due to the result - Azarenka got a bad rap for that time-out she took towards the end of her semi-final. Some people had this to say: "What a shocking match: 16 service breaks!" I didn't understand that. How does a lack of service breaks imply a high-quality match? All it means is high quality of serve.
The men's semis were both enthralling in their own ways. Djokovic's demolition of Ferrer recalled Federer's dismantling of Roddick in the 2007 semis. I watched that match six years ago - in which Federer looked like he could just about walk on water - and by all accounts Djokovic flicked the switch over to god mode on Thursday. Andy Murray's victory over Federer was much tougher, but when I had a look at the stats, it seemed Murray was the better player by some margin and Federer did well to take the match to five.
As for the men's final, it's a tough one to pick. I make Djokovic a slight (maybe 55:45) favourite; I'll go for a four-set win for Djokovic, 6-4 7-6 2-6 6-3. Overall it's been an interesting tournament that has raised a number of issues, not least the question of equal prize money for men and women. I'll try and explore one or two of these issues in my next entry.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Tennis comeback?
There's been some good news from my brother: his ex has chucked in her job and left the country (she's freezing her butt off somewhere in the north of England - she can't do much damage there). Hopefully this whole saga will now blow over and he'll be able to get on with life.
I've almost finished How To Be Good which is a shame as it's been a jolly good read. I found Hornby's depiction of "Barmy Brian" quite thought-provoking, especially the bit where Brian (he's about fifty) tells Katie what it's like to cook for himself (badly!) following his mother's recent death. There are shades of (Barmy?) Bazza, who also lived with his mother until she died in 2008. As Hornby says, "love ... is as undemocratic as money, it accumulates around people who have plenty of it already: the sane, the healthy, the lovable. I am loved by my children, my parents, my brother, my spouse, I suppose, my friends; Brian has none of these people, and never will ..." There are a lot of Brians in this world, living, breathing human beings, existing outside of society, unloved by anybody. OK, some of them have made a choice to live like that but most haven't, and it's all very sad. For some reason I've always found those sorts of people interesting, probably because I only really exist on the fringes of society myself.
By the way I find Tom (Katie's ten-year-old son) to be extremely unlovable!
After work yesterday I dashed to the Green Man (a bar quite close to work) to watch the tail-end of Serena Williams' shock loss to her compatriot Sloane Stephens. I was wishing I hadn't bothered (there was no sound and you couldn't watch it without something going on - like a game of pool - between my eyes and the screen). The underdog Stephens looked to be playing a blinder, and I was impressed by her fighting spirit after she lost what I thought would be the crucial game at 3-3 in the third set. I've never been a huge Serena fan, and Stephens seemed amiable, so I was happy with the result. (I'm always amused by Serena's official weight. On the Aussie Open site she's listed as 68 kilos, but they don't say which parts of her anatomy are included. Her bum? Maybe that's just her bum.) Sharapova fell heavily to Li Na in her semi-final this afternoon, and Stephens' excellent Open came to an end in her semi with Azarenka just as their match was getting exciting.
I've been following the tennis much more than I thought I would. I'm sure the no-poker thing has played its part (I don't miss the poker but I do miss having an "escape" - the tennis provides that to some degree). I emailed a comment (about tie-breaks) to their radio team and was surprised to hear it read out on air by Richard Evans, my favourite commentator. I'd like to make another comment about the weight of rackets. All this talk about tennis has made me at least consider taking it up again. I basically quit the game when I came to Wellington. At various times tennis has done me an awful lot of good, but it's also caused me a lot of angst on occasions, I'm a bit apprehensive about getting back into it. They're in the middle of the current season, so it's likely I'll have to wait till September in any case. Whatever, I need proper serious exercise on a more regular basis (I've put on weight and certainly feel more lethargic); at the weekend I've got an arduous tramp planned - hopefully that will help.
I've almost finished How To Be Good which is a shame as it's been a jolly good read. I found Hornby's depiction of "Barmy Brian" quite thought-provoking, especially the bit where Brian (he's about fifty) tells Katie what it's like to cook for himself (badly!) following his mother's recent death. There are shades of (Barmy?) Bazza, who also lived with his mother until she died in 2008. As Hornby says, "love ... is as undemocratic as money, it accumulates around people who have plenty of it already: the sane, the healthy, the lovable. I am loved by my children, my parents, my brother, my spouse, I suppose, my friends; Brian has none of these people, and never will ..." There are a lot of Brians in this world, living, breathing human beings, existing outside of society, unloved by anybody. OK, some of them have made a choice to live like that but most haven't, and it's all very sad. For some reason I've always found those sorts of people interesting, probably because I only really exist on the fringes of society myself.
By the way I find Tom (Katie's ten-year-old son) to be extremely unlovable!
After work yesterday I dashed to the Green Man (a bar quite close to work) to watch the tail-end of Serena Williams' shock loss to her compatriot Sloane Stephens. I was wishing I hadn't bothered (there was no sound and you couldn't watch it without something going on - like a game of pool - between my eyes and the screen). The underdog Stephens looked to be playing a blinder, and I was impressed by her fighting spirit after she lost what I thought would be the crucial game at 3-3 in the third set. I've never been a huge Serena fan, and Stephens seemed amiable, so I was happy with the result. (I'm always amused by Serena's official weight. On the Aussie Open site she's listed as 68 kilos, but they don't say which parts of her anatomy are included. Her bum? Maybe that's just her bum.) Sharapova fell heavily to Li Na in her semi-final this afternoon, and Stephens' excellent Open came to an end in her semi with Azarenka just as their match was getting exciting.
I've been following the tennis much more than I thought I would. I'm sure the no-poker thing has played its part (I don't miss the poker but I do miss having an "escape" - the tennis provides that to some degree). I emailed a comment (about tie-breaks) to their radio team and was surprised to hear it read out on air by Richard Evans, my favourite commentator. I'd like to make another comment about the weight of rackets. All this talk about tennis has made me at least consider taking it up again. I basically quit the game when I came to Wellington. At various times tennis has done me an awful lot of good, but it's also caused me a lot of angst on occasions, I'm a bit apprehensive about getting back into it. They're in the middle of the current season, so it's likely I'll have to wait till September in any case. Whatever, I need proper serious exercise on a more regular basis (I've put on weight and certainly feel more lethargic); at the weekend I've got an arduous tramp planned - hopefully that will help.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Tennis and tats
I got sucked in again last night, in an even worse fashion than the night before. I listened to the commentary of Djokovic vs Wawrinka, an absolute belter that finished at quarter to four (NZ time) this morning. I slept through the fourth set which Wawrinka won on a tie-break, but was glad (kind of) to hear the fifth set which reached a spectacular crescendo in the 22nd game. At the end of surely one of the best last points ever, I couldn't tell who had won it because the commentators were in awe. I felt a bit sorry for Wawrinka at the end; he played the match of his life and he might never get the chance to beat a superstar at a grand slam again. Today Chris Bowers said it was an even better spectacle than last year's final. I wonder whether Bazza stayed up to watch it.
So I've been pretty sluggish today, which thankfully is a public holiday in Wellington. I got up late, worked on my puzzles for a bit (I want to get a portfolio together to send to Australia) and read some more of Nick Hornby in the sun on the bank of the Basin Reserve. There happened to be a closely contested four-day cricket match going on. I'm guessing it was some top-grade club match but I really had no idea. Every now and then I'd get a whiff of pot smoke.
At the beach yesterday I was struck by the sheer number of tattoos on show (I know I've blogged about this subject before). One bloke had "Fuck the World" across his upper back. Seriously man. I'm not ante tattoos per se - people can do what they like - but I find some of them (like that one) really distasteful. I'm sure the prevalence of "tats" is on the increase. It feels like half the population now have them. I've always thought that insurance companies could use tattoos as a pretty reliable rating factor for life policies.
I didn't meet Tracy for lunch last Thursday because she was ill. On the Monday (the day of the autism meeting) she had iron pumped into her intravenously over several hours. She's been ill quite a lot lately and it's a bit of a worry.
So I've been pretty sluggish today, which thankfully is a public holiday in Wellington. I got up late, worked on my puzzles for a bit (I want to get a portfolio together to send to Australia) and read some more of Nick Hornby in the sun on the bank of the Basin Reserve. There happened to be a closely contested four-day cricket match going on. I'm guessing it was some top-grade club match but I really had no idea. Every now and then I'd get a whiff of pot smoke.
At the beach yesterday I was struck by the sheer number of tattoos on show (I know I've blogged about this subject before). One bloke had "Fuck the World" across his upper back. Seriously man. I'm not ante tattoos per se - people can do what they like - but I find some of them (like that one) really distasteful. I'm sure the prevalence of "tats" is on the increase. It feels like half the population now have them. I've always thought that insurance companies could use tattoos as a pretty reliable rating factor for life policies.
I didn't meet Tracy for lunch last Thursday because she was ill. On the Monday (the day of the autism meeting) she had iron pumped into her intravenously over several hours. She's been ill quite a lot lately and it's a bit of a worry.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Scar tissue
Today I went to the beach at Days Bay near Eastbourne, as one of the anxiety group meet-ups. It was an absolutely glorious day. When I lived in Auckland - particularly when I flatted in Milford - I went to the beach all the time in the summer, and I'm sure all that vitamin D did me a lot of good. I also played a lot of tennis, and I was generally a happy chappy, even if work drove me nuts. I thought of all these things when I arrived at the beach today, and would have happily just lay there by myself and drifted away.
I couldn't drift away though because there was a group of us. We went to a nearby café and chatted. There was one woman I hadn't met before. It took me a few minutes to notice. Your arms. Her forearms - not her wrists but further up - looked like my wooden chopping board. I found the extent of her self-mutilation really distressing. I was surprised she didn't wear a long-sleeved top, even on a summer's day. She did wear a lot of jewellery though. When I got home I tried to get some handle on why people - especially young women - cut themselves. It all just seems so messed up. Speaking from my head-banging experiences which I hope are now behind me, I can think of one logical reason: the physical pain helps to relieve the mental pain and creates a sense of calm. I found this creepily illuminating "warning" for anyone wishing to cut themselves.
My work colleague was also at the beach today. She's been off work ever since she broke her arm at the function in early November, and doesn't expect to be back till March. She's clearly had a lot of crap to deal with other than her arm, which has pretty much healed now.
As usual after about two hours of socialising I hit the wall. At that point I was wishing I'd brought my book. After a couple more hours I was able to go home.
Last night I listened to a tennis match on the internet until the wee hours. I've done that kind of thing before, but usually it's a really important match like a final or semi-final. This match however was a third-rounder between two Frenchmen: Gilles Simon and Gaël Monfils. It was typically French as they used guile rather than power to try to gain the upper hand. They were closely matched but Simon won the first two sets, then he got injured and attempted to hobble over the line against Monfils who wasn't 100% either, and suddenly I was hooked. The mercurial Monfils snagged the third set and Simon tanked the fourth 6-1. Oh dear. Fifth set. I'm losing sleep here over a match that ultimately won't matter because the winner will surely get taken apart by Andy Murray in the next round. But it was fascinating in its way; it reminded me of the 2004 Roland Garros final. There were some very long rallies in the fifth-set breakathon in which just about every game went to deuce. For the record Simon got over the line, 8-6, as the clock ticked past 2:30.
Djokovic has made a shaky start to his latest match, losing the first set heavily to Wawrinka, but I still think he's the favourite to lift the trophy. It'll be between him, Federer and Murray, with the impressive Ferrer being in the mix too. In fact I'd love Ferrer to win it - he's a little guy (by tennis standards) and it would be nice for someone of his size to win for a change. In the women's, neither Kimiko Date nor Laura Robson won their matches so that record-age-gap match won't happen.
I couldn't drift away though because there was a group of us. We went to a nearby café and chatted. There was one woman I hadn't met before. It took me a few minutes to notice. Your arms. Her forearms - not her wrists but further up - looked like my wooden chopping board. I found the extent of her self-mutilation really distressing. I was surprised she didn't wear a long-sleeved top, even on a summer's day. She did wear a lot of jewellery though. When I got home I tried to get some handle on why people - especially young women - cut themselves. It all just seems so messed up. Speaking from my head-banging experiences which I hope are now behind me, I can think of one logical reason: the physical pain helps to relieve the mental pain and creates a sense of calm. I found this creepily illuminating "warning" for anyone wishing to cut themselves.
My work colleague was also at the beach today. She's been off work ever since she broke her arm at the function in early November, and doesn't expect to be back till March. She's clearly had a lot of crap to deal with other than her arm, which has pretty much healed now.
As usual after about two hours of socialising I hit the wall. At that point I was wishing I'd brought my book. After a couple more hours I was able to go home.
Last night I listened to a tennis match on the internet until the wee hours. I've done that kind of thing before, but usually it's a really important match like a final or semi-final. This match however was a third-rounder between two Frenchmen: Gilles Simon and Gaël Monfils. It was typically French as they used guile rather than power to try to gain the upper hand. They were closely matched but Simon won the first two sets, then he got injured and attempted to hobble over the line against Monfils who wasn't 100% either, and suddenly I was hooked. The mercurial Monfils snagged the third set and Simon tanked the fourth 6-1. Oh dear. Fifth set. I'm losing sleep here over a match that ultimately won't matter because the winner will surely get taken apart by Andy Murray in the next round. But it was fascinating in its way; it reminded me of the 2004 Roland Garros final. There were some very long rallies in the fifth-set breakathon in which just about every game went to deuce. For the record Simon got over the line, 8-6, as the clock ticked past 2:30.
Djokovic has made a shaky start to his latest match, losing the first set heavily to Wawrinka, but I still think he's the favourite to lift the trophy. It'll be between him, Federer and Murray, with the impressive Ferrer being in the mix too. In fact I'd love Ferrer to win it - he's a little guy (by tennis standards) and it would be nice for someone of his size to win for a change. In the women's, neither Kimiko Date nor Laura Robson won their matches so that record-age-gap match won't happen.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Roped in
Dad has been made vice-president of the indoor bowls club at Woodbury. He can't stand bowls, and likes committees even less, but somehow (laughably) he managed to get roped in. He said there was no-one else left to take the position, and all eyes were suddenly on him. That an indoor bowls club with maybe a dozen members should even have a committee and that some of its members take it very seriously is in itself laughable.
My boss got the bottom grade in our annual assessment. That grade is supposed to be reserved for the bottom fifth of managers, but if 80% of the company's managers are better than him I'd be surprised. I imagine he's assessed under different criteria to the ones I would use (as long as he's personable and doesn't leave me in the dark, that's fine by me). We sit at adjacent desks, we're close in age (he's just a few months older than me) and even though our similarities pretty much end there, my boss and I get on well. He's a typical lad I suppose. He gets drunk a lot, despite being married with two daughters under four (getting hammered regularly after the age of thirty is another item on my don't-get-it list: yes I got drunk a few times when I was younger, but the price I paid the next day was never worth it, and the novelty quickly wore off). He likes cars, gadgets and labels. He talks to (argues with?) his wife a lot on the phone: I often hear him getting defensive.
Nick Hornby's How To Be Good continues to be excellent. How is such clever writing humanly possible? It all feels so effortless. All the UK pop culture references, such as S Club 7 and a short-lived digital TV channel, mean I can pinpoint accurately when it was written (1999-2000).
Kimiko Date has won through to round three in Melbourne, as has Laura Robson (a pom who was born in Melbourne) after her bruising three-set match last night. If they both win their next matches they'll play each other. There's an age gap of 23 years between them; that would surely be some kind of record in a grand slam.
The depression group have got an outing to Days Bay on Sunday. I'll be going. It's a long weekend here by the way.
It's a year tomorrow since my grandmother died. I miss her a lot.
My boss got the bottom grade in our annual assessment. That grade is supposed to be reserved for the bottom fifth of managers, but if 80% of the company's managers are better than him I'd be surprised. I imagine he's assessed under different criteria to the ones I would use (as long as he's personable and doesn't leave me in the dark, that's fine by me). We sit at adjacent desks, we're close in age (he's just a few months older than me) and even though our similarities pretty much end there, my boss and I get on well. He's a typical lad I suppose. He gets drunk a lot, despite being married with two daughters under four (getting hammered regularly after the age of thirty is another item on my don't-get-it list: yes I got drunk a few times when I was younger, but the price I paid the next day was never worth it, and the novelty quickly wore off). He likes cars, gadgets and labels. He talks to (argues with?) his wife a lot on the phone: I often hear him getting defensive.
Nick Hornby's How To Be Good continues to be excellent. How is such clever writing humanly possible? It all feels so effortless. All the UK pop culture references, such as S Club 7 and a short-lived digital TV channel, mean I can pinpoint accurately when it was written (1999-2000).
Kimiko Date has won through to round three in Melbourne, as has Laura Robson (a pom who was born in Melbourne) after her bruising three-set match last night. If they both win their next matches they'll play each other. There's an age gap of 23 years between them; that would surely be some kind of record in a grand slam.
The depression group have got an outing to Days Bay on Sunday. I'll be going. It's a long weekend here by the way.
It's a year tomorrow since my grandmother died. I miss her a lot.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Sugar Man - must see!
On Sunday night I saw Searching for Sugar Man at the Paramount on Courtenay Place. It's the best film I've seen in years, no exaggeration. What an incredible story. You couldn't make it up. I picked a good time to see such an uplifting movie (boy did I need a lift). Rodriguez's songs were amazing too, so soulful, so genuine. It's not hard to see how his records sold so well in such an oppressive regime as South Africa in the seventies. I'd still like to know what the hell happened to the proceeds of those sales, but that wasn't really an appropriate question for the film to answer.
I saw Julie again last night. It can be hard work sometimes. She rambles, you get all the he-saids and she-saids, and if you're really lucky she might eventually get to the point. She showed me a psychiatrist's report which used the extremely poncy (but accurate) word "circumloquacious" to describe her way of talking. At times I can hardly blame her for wanting to dodge the issue, which is often distinctly dodgeworthy. It's all very sad and I feel powerless to help. She'll need to go into a rest home and is (understandably) having difficulty in coming to terms with that. Sometimes I manage to steer the conversation (if you can call it that) into more positive territory, and on occasions we'll talk about my "issues". Last night she warned me about getting into relationships with people on the autistic spectrum (she was in a 30-year-plus relationship with an autistic man).
On that note I'll be catching up with Tracy tomorrow for lunch. It's funny, a few times I've been about to tune out of her station when I pick up a faint signal. I'm hoping I might eventually hear her loud and clear. The two guys who normally disrupt the autism group were absent for Monday's meeting. This made for a more pleasant experience for everyone. Danielle didn't have an easy Christmas - her father didn't treat her well - and she was almost in tears as she talked about it. I met her tonight at the tramping group. I'd signed up for a trip this weekend but they've postponed it till 2nd February.
On Monday we got our performance grades at work. There had been plenty of talk about them, to the point where even I started to care about what grade I might get. Sort of. They only had three grades which were shared out 20:60:20 or thereabouts. I was happy to get the middle grade; to my surprise it seemed I didn't just scrape it.
They're into round two at the Australian Open. I'm not following it as closely as I used to, but one result stood out a mile from yesterday's first-round matches: 42-year-old Kimiko Date's 6-2 6-0 win over 12th-seeded (and 30-year-old) Nadia Petrova. Date reached the semi-finals of Wimbledon in 1996 after a remarkable run of comeback three-set wins. In her semi she blitzed Steffi Graf in the second set to level the match and another comeback looked likely, but play was suspended for bad light, her momentum was lost, and so was the match the next day.
I saw Julie again last night. It can be hard work sometimes. She rambles, you get all the he-saids and she-saids, and if you're really lucky she might eventually get to the point. She showed me a psychiatrist's report which used the extremely poncy (but accurate) word "circumloquacious" to describe her way of talking. At times I can hardly blame her for wanting to dodge the issue, which is often distinctly dodgeworthy. It's all very sad and I feel powerless to help. She'll need to go into a rest home and is (understandably) having difficulty in coming to terms with that. Sometimes I manage to steer the conversation (if you can call it that) into more positive territory, and on occasions we'll talk about my "issues". Last night she warned me about getting into relationships with people on the autistic spectrum (she was in a 30-year-plus relationship with an autistic man).
On that note I'll be catching up with Tracy tomorrow for lunch. It's funny, a few times I've been about to tune out of her station when I pick up a faint signal. I'm hoping I might eventually hear her loud and clear. The two guys who normally disrupt the autism group were absent for Monday's meeting. This made for a more pleasant experience for everyone. Danielle didn't have an easy Christmas - her father didn't treat her well - and she was almost in tears as she talked about it. I met her tonight at the tramping group. I'd signed up for a trip this weekend but they've postponed it till 2nd February.
On Monday we got our performance grades at work. There had been plenty of talk about them, to the point where even I started to care about what grade I might get. Sort of. They only had three grades which were shared out 20:60:20 or thereabouts. I was happy to get the middle grade; to my surprise it seemed I didn't just scrape it.
They're into round two at the Australian Open. I'm not following it as closely as I used to, but one result stood out a mile from yesterday's first-round matches: 42-year-old Kimiko Date's 6-2 6-0 win over 12th-seeded (and 30-year-old) Nadia Petrova. Date reached the semi-finals of Wimbledon in 1996 after a remarkable run of comeback three-set wins. In her semi she blitzed Steffi Graf in the second set to level the match and another comeback looked likely, but play was suspended for bad light, her momentum was lost, and so was the match the next day.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Superhuman
I was almost a complete wreck at work today after listening to last night's Australian Open final that went seven minutes shy of six hours. I slept through most of the middle stages but woke up in time for Nadal to escape from the jaws of defeat in the fourth set, then go ahead 4-2 in the fifth. At that point it seemed Rafa would do it. It's a shame I couldn't see it (no I'm not going to rush out and get Sky) - these two guys play almost impossible tennis, such as Nadal sliding to pick up balls from well outside the tramlines. It's worth noting that Nadal had a break point for 6-6 in the fifth, which would have sent the match into a seventh hour and spinning into outer space.
So Andy Murray's wait for a first grand slam title goes on. I've heard people say that he's soft between the ears, or that he struggles with the big occasion at the sharp end of grand slams. While I'd agree to some extent with the second comment (though not at all with the first), his main problem is that he's human, albeit a human who happens to be very good with a racket in his hand. After last night I wonder whether Djokovic and Nadal are human at all.
So Andy Murray's wait for a first grand slam title goes on. I've heard people say that he's soft between the ears, or that he struggles with the big occasion at the sharp end of grand slams. While I'd agree to some extent with the second comment (though not at all with the first), his main problem is that he's human, albeit a human who happens to be very good with a racket in his hand. After last night I wonder whether Djokovic and Nadal are human at all.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Twists and turns
Today I went on my first walk as part of the tramping club. My preparation was less than ideal: I (stupidly I guess) stayed awake till 2:40 this morning to listen to the second men's Aussie Open semi on the radio. The 4¾-hour match had as many twists and turns as a snake slithering down a spiral staircase. From what I could tell neither Djokovic nor Murray was quite at their best, but it sounded like a gripping contest, at least when that Aussie commentator (whose focus was on everything but the tennis) got out of the way and Richard Evans and Chris Bowers took over. Perhaps the pomminess of those two announcers endears them to me, but they do seem extremely knowledgeable about the game. It was a shame, after such a close-fought match, that Murray couldn't quite make it. I'm now listening to the women's final between Sharapova and Azarenka. It's 3-3 in the first set; if it remains close you can expect the gruntometer to hit record levels. I saw Sharapova play in Melbourne in 2005 - the grunting on that occasion was almost hilariously loud. For the record she thrashed Li Na, who wasn't anything like the player she is now. Update: Azarenka swept to the title without losing another game! Mum said she played out of her skin.
Fortunately the walk started at eleven but I still felt badly starved of sleep. We met at Karori Park and walked the Skyline Walkway over the top of Mt Kaukau to Johnsonville. It was a nice day for it - OK it was windy as heck, but we had bright sunshine the whole way. I took a few photos and chatted to some of the others in the group to begin with, but I tired towards the end. It was the first real strenuous exercise I'd had in ages, and of course that's one of the main reasons I joined the club in the first place. I carried my new backpack, which I bought in Auckland, but it was too big for a trip lasting a few hours like today; I might try and get a smaller one off Trade Me for my next day trip. The trips are categorised into about six difficulty levels - today's was the second easiest level. On the club's website it says "You can be as fit or as unfit as you like!" I'd dispute that - if you were really unfit, you'd have struggled today. Maybe that's a measure of my pomminess - being brought up in the UK gives me an idea of what "really unfit" is.
Fortunately the walk started at eleven but I still felt badly starved of sleep. We met at Karori Park and walked the Skyline Walkway over the top of Mt Kaukau to Johnsonville. It was a nice day for it - OK it was windy as heck, but we had bright sunshine the whole way. I took a few photos and chatted to some of the others in the group to begin with, but I tired towards the end. It was the first real strenuous exercise I'd had in ages, and of course that's one of the main reasons I joined the club in the first place. I carried my new backpack, which I bought in Auckland, but it was too big for a trip lasting a few hours like today; I might try and get a smaller one off Trade Me for my next day trip. The trips are categorised into about six difficulty levels - today's was the second easiest level. On the club's website it says "You can be as fit or as unfit as you like!" I'd dispute that - if you were really unfit, you'd have struggled today. Maybe that's a measure of my pomminess - being brought up in the UK gives me an idea of what "really unfit" is.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Nonna
In 2008 Gran published a book which covered her long, interesting and varied life, concentrating mainly on her childhood which was spent in Wales. She wrote very well I must say, even if the motivation to write eluded her at times. I took my copy of the book up to Auckland with me – I thought some of my friends might find it interesting, especially the photos.
My grandfather was a Squadron Leader in the RAF. In the sixties they were based in Naples, which sounds like a crazy but beautiful place, if that makes any sense. My grandma liked to be known as Nonna, the Italian word for grandmother; that’s what we called her most of the time. I was taken by surprise, therefore, when I saw this shop a couple of minutes’ walk from the motel I stayed in:
What, if anything, the shop is selling I really haven’t a clue, but it’s full of old guitars, amps and Radiohead memorabilia. Not a granny to be seen. The umlaut is a bit of a mystery too.
I’d planned to make a (bad) joke about her becoming a Nonna-genarian at her next birthday but alas she died four months too soon. I’ll miss her a lot. She was very good to me as a boy: she (embarrassingly) favoured me over her other two grandsons.
In 2000 I flew with her to Cairns to visit my parents (Mum did a year’s teaching exchange over there). We spent a week in Penang on the way over there. Later that year she visited me in Lyon and almost died on the flight. Her heart had stopped beating for an extended period although she didn’t know that at the time. I vividly remember her being wheeled out, well after all the other passengers had gone through, looking almost unrecognisable from the Nonna I knew. She seemed to perk up though, so I took her around Lyon’s attractions, oblivious to how ill she was. In the summer of 2001, when she realised what was up (after one or two more episodes), she got a pacemaker fitted. The four-hour-plus operation was not without a hitch – afterwards she said it would have been nice to have “sailed away” then, as she put it, but she still had six or seven good years left in her. She visited New Zealand for the third time in 2005, having come here in ’89 (with my grandfather, while we lived out here) and ’98 (with Dad). In ’06 I made a trip to the UK; she and I spent a week in Paris. In ’08 I made another trip to England and went on a short holiday to Italy with a university friend; in those four days Nonna had slipped a lot – she must have had a stroke while I was away. A week earlier she was hooning around town in her Nissan Micra (well, not exactly: she went at about the same speed as farmers go in their tractors, but at least she was driving) and now she was trying to make phone calls using a TV remote or a calculator. Knowing the importance of one’s independence I tried to convince her to get back in the driving seat – she went 100 metres down the road and that was the last time she ever drove. She did bounce back but was never quite the same. I’m so glad I managed to see her in 2010 – although she’d slipped a long way, she was still her at that stage.
I’ve been staying at a hotel on Great South Road, close to Remuera train station and only a few doors down from the offices of Lifeline, which I unfortunately pulled the plug on half-way through the training programme.
Richard and I met up in Newmarket on Saturday before attending the Asperger’s group at their first meeting at the new location. Unlike the old place it doesn’t have an outdoor area, which is a shame, but its acoustics are much more suitable. About 25 turned up – I’d almost forgotten how positive an experience those monthly meetings were for me. It was really good to see Chris in a more positive frame of mind – 2011 was something of an annus horribilis for him I think. I felt a certain sense of shame as I made less than positive noises about my work when others in the room would have given their right arm for any kind of job.
On Sunday I took the train to Papakura to see Bazza. He’d obviously been busy cleaning – his flat had a strong smell of disinfectant. He hasn’t done a bad job with his place really and for somebody who doesn’t drive he’s got everything close at hand. He doesn’t have a lot of mod cons but he’s got Sky, so we watched some of the Aussie Open which, unlike in past years, I haven’t been following closely. He has a habit of talking incessantly during the game, and calling balls out that are in (which he also did in matches involving him!). His pronunciations of players’ names and nationalities can be amusing at times. For instance I never knew that Djokovic came from Suburbia. I’m glad I caught the match between Na Li and Kim Clijsters – a repeat of last year’s final – in which Clijsters dodged four bullets to come from 6-2 down in the second-set tie-break, sneaking through in the end as the Chinese launched a fightback of her own in the deciding set.
On Monday I met Mandy, my old work colleague, in Takapuna. Unlike me she’s making big positive strides in her job and is even dating one of her high-flying workmates. We had pizza at Mac’s bar – or whatever it’s called – on the main drag.
Today I’ve been catching up with Richard, who showed me his wonderful drawing of Emma, and I’m now sitting peacefully in Cornwall Park – one of the best bits of Auckland I think – writing this on my laptop. My flight goes at seven. It’s back to work tomorrow and who knows what’s in store for me there.
My grandfather was a Squadron Leader in the RAF. In the sixties they were based in Naples, which sounds like a crazy but beautiful place, if that makes any sense. My grandma liked to be known as Nonna, the Italian word for grandmother; that’s what we called her most of the time. I was taken by surprise, therefore, when I saw this shop a couple of minutes’ walk from the motel I stayed in:
What, if anything, the shop is selling I really haven’t a clue, but it’s full of old guitars, amps and Radiohead memorabilia. Not a granny to be seen. The umlaut is a bit of a mystery too.
I’d planned to make a (bad) joke about her becoming a Nonna-genarian at her next birthday but alas she died four months too soon. I’ll miss her a lot. She was very good to me as a boy: she (embarrassingly) favoured me over her other two grandsons.
In 2000 I flew with her to Cairns to visit my parents (Mum did a year’s teaching exchange over there). We spent a week in Penang on the way over there. Later that year she visited me in Lyon and almost died on the flight. Her heart had stopped beating for an extended period although she didn’t know that at the time. I vividly remember her being wheeled out, well after all the other passengers had gone through, looking almost unrecognisable from the Nonna I knew. She seemed to perk up though, so I took her around Lyon’s attractions, oblivious to how ill she was. In the summer of 2001, when she realised what was up (after one or two more episodes), she got a pacemaker fitted. The four-hour-plus operation was not without a hitch – afterwards she said it would have been nice to have “sailed away” then, as she put it, but she still had six or seven good years left in her. She visited New Zealand for the third time in 2005, having come here in ’89 (with my grandfather, while we lived out here) and ’98 (with Dad). In ’06 I made a trip to the UK; she and I spent a week in Paris. In ’08 I made another trip to England and went on a short holiday to Italy with a university friend; in those four days Nonna had slipped a lot – she must have had a stroke while I was away. A week earlier she was hooning around town in her Nissan Micra (well, not exactly: she went at about the same speed as farmers go in their tractors, but at least she was driving) and now she was trying to make phone calls using a TV remote or a calculator. Knowing the importance of one’s independence I tried to convince her to get back in the driving seat – she went 100 metres down the road and that was the last time she ever drove. She did bounce back but was never quite the same. I’m so glad I managed to see her in 2010 – although she’d slipped a long way, she was still her at that stage.
I’ve been staying at a hotel on Great South Road, close to Remuera train station and only a few doors down from the offices of Lifeline, which I unfortunately pulled the plug on half-way through the training programme.
Richard and I met up in Newmarket on Saturday before attending the Asperger’s group at their first meeting at the new location. Unlike the old place it doesn’t have an outdoor area, which is a shame, but its acoustics are much more suitable. About 25 turned up – I’d almost forgotten how positive an experience those monthly meetings were for me. It was really good to see Chris in a more positive frame of mind – 2011 was something of an annus horribilis for him I think. I felt a certain sense of shame as I made less than positive noises about my work when others in the room would have given their right arm for any kind of job.
On Sunday I took the train to Papakura to see Bazza. He’d obviously been busy cleaning – his flat had a strong smell of disinfectant. He hasn’t done a bad job with his place really and for somebody who doesn’t drive he’s got everything close at hand. He doesn’t have a lot of mod cons but he’s got Sky, so we watched some of the Aussie Open which, unlike in past years, I haven’t been following closely. He has a habit of talking incessantly during the game, and calling balls out that are in (which he also did in matches involving him!). His pronunciations of players’ names and nationalities can be amusing at times. For instance I never knew that Djokovic came from Suburbia. I’m glad I caught the match between Na Li and Kim Clijsters – a repeat of last year’s final – in which Clijsters dodged four bullets to come from 6-2 down in the second-set tie-break, sneaking through in the end as the Chinese launched a fightback of her own in the deciding set.
On Monday I met Mandy, my old work colleague, in Takapuna. Unlike me she’s making big positive strides in her job and is even dating one of her high-flying workmates. We had pizza at Mac’s bar – or whatever it’s called – on the main drag.
Today I’ve been catching up with Richard, who showed me his wonderful drawing of Emma, and I’m now sitting peacefully in Cornwall Park – one of the best bits of Auckland I think – writing this on my laptop. My flight goes at seven. It’s back to work tomorrow and who knows what’s in store for me there.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Need a boost
I'm flying down to Wellington for my interview tomorrow. You're supposed to be determined to succeed at job interviews, they're supposed to matter, but I'm really struggling to motivate myself. Today I had a look at the long list of questions that I made for my successful interview seven years ago. I got Mum to be interviewer and to randomly ask me questions from my list until we were both exhausted. I must have really wanted that job. Now I wonder where all that determination came from. I saw the doctor last week and we agreed to increase my dose of Efexor to 225 mg to hopefully put some much-needed oomph back into my life.
This afternoon I went into town to meet up with Richard and some of the others from the Asperger's group. It was a bit windy out there but it good to see everyone again. In fact it was good to see anyone. There was some sort of regatta on the water today for Auckland Anniversary Day as well as a display of aerobatics.
Last night I made the 45-minute trip to Papakura (it was quicker coming back) to see Bazza for the first time in several months and watch the tennis. As soon as I walked through the door, he took my blood pressure with his new gadget. Then I had to get on the scales. Thankfully I passed my warrant of fitness. Mr Fish and Chips has turned into a health freak all of a sudden! He took his own blood pressure three times (!) while I was there. I got back home at 1:30am.
Bazza talked quite a lot during the tennis. I didn't expect anything else I guess, and at least he's fairly knowledgeable about the game. Even after the first two games we had a pretty good idea of the likely outcome of the match. It seems to me that Murray works himself into a frenzy before a big final like this, sapping himself of energy before the match has even begun. When you're as emotionally worked up as I sensed he was, it's hard to think straight. Murray has a lot of variety but he kept playing Djokovic's game, trying to outhit his opponent from the baseline. His low first-serve percentage didn't help either. Djokovic in contrast seemed to be enjoying himself. I never knew quite how quick around the court he was; maybe it was his fancy shoes. It would have been nice to see Murray win, but unfortunately it wasn't to be. In the end I picked the winner of both finals even if my score predictions were miles out.
One final thing: I've had to produce five puzzles for an American company on the subject of ice hockey. This wasn't easy - my knowledge of ice hockey is (or was) almost non-existent except for all the fights they have - but it's amazing what you can do with Google.
This afternoon I went into town to meet up with Richard and some of the others from the Asperger's group. It was a bit windy out there but it good to see everyone again. In fact it was good to see anyone. There was some sort of regatta on the water today for Auckland Anniversary Day as well as a display of aerobatics.
Last night I made the 45-minute trip to Papakura (it was quicker coming back) to see Bazza for the first time in several months and watch the tennis. As soon as I walked through the door, he took my blood pressure with his new gadget. Then I had to get on the scales. Thankfully I passed my warrant of fitness. Mr Fish and Chips has turned into a health freak all of a sudden! He took his own blood pressure three times (!) while I was there. I got back home at 1:30am.
Bazza talked quite a lot during the tennis. I didn't expect anything else I guess, and at least he's fairly knowledgeable about the game. Even after the first two games we had a pretty good idea of the likely outcome of the match. It seems to me that Murray works himself into a frenzy before a big final like this, sapping himself of energy before the match has even begun. When you're as emotionally worked up as I sensed he was, it's hard to think straight. Murray has a lot of variety but he kept playing Djokovic's game, trying to outhit his opponent from the baseline. His low first-serve percentage didn't help either. Djokovic in contrast seemed to be enjoying himself. I never knew quite how quick around the court he was; maybe it was his fancy shoes. It would have been nice to see Murray win, but unfortunately it wasn't to be. In the end I picked the winner of both finals even if my score predictions were miles out.
One final thing: I've had to produce five puzzles for an American company on the subject of ice hockey. This wasn't easy - my knowledge of ice hockey is (or was) almost non-existent except for all the fights they have - but it's amazing what you can do with Google.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Wellington and wet & windy Wilma
So I was in Devonport on Thursday, about to pick up my medication and some bananas, wondering whether I should have broken my jack badugi, when my cell phone rang. I'll be flying down to Wellington on Tuesday for a job interview! Oh boy.
A couple of weeks ago I applied for an insurance job I saw on Seek. It was based in Wellington, doing the same sort of thing that I did in Auckland for nearly six years and was so glad to escape from. But what the hell. There's no harm in applying, right? So last Friday I got a call from one of the blokes I'd potentially be working with; we spoke for half an hour. I think I came across well over the phone; I did my best to sound knowledgeable but also as friendly as possible, using some typical Kiwi phrases like "mucking in", but I still thought the odds were against me getting an interview (although when I think about it a bit, it's a fairly specialised line of work).
Finding out that I would be having an interview sent me into a mad panic. Christ, I've been in Auckland for seven years, I've finally got used to the place, finally made some good friends, and now I might have to leave. I can't do that. And I'll have to do all that corporate shit again, and worst of all, exams. Should I even go for the interview?
Since then I've had a haircut and my suit dry-cleaned and have calmed down. In fact now I'm looking forward to the interview. Well not the interview itself if I'm honest, but visiting Wellington. I haven't been there since I drove from South Canterbury to Auckland to start my last big job in March 2004. The company are paying for my flights (good isn't it?); I'll be spending Tuesday night there and will head back the next day. My cousin lives in Wellington with her husband and three boys - I didn't think they'd particularly want a fourth, but apparently I'm OK to spend the night with them. From what I can tell I'll like Wellington - its compactness gives it a soul that Auckland badly lacks. But could I leave everything in Auckland behind? My friends and support networks? Love it or hate it, the tennis club? You can't underestimate how important friends are. Moving away from them would be a big deal.
I'm hopeless at interviews, especially competency-based ones like this will be. And of course they'll want to know about all my stunning achievements in my last job (Richard earlier emailed me with some good ideas for things to say there). The chances that I'll actually be offered the job are therefore pretty slim, so the problem of having to leave Auckland is one I'll face if and when I come to it.
Tomorrow I'll be going to Papakura to drop in on Bazza who I haven't seen in ages. We'll be watching the men's final of the Aussie Open - Djokovic against Murray. What an opportunity this is for Murray. Last night I fell asleep twice while listening to radio commentary of his hard-fought win over Ferrer. The women's final will be starting in a few minutes. Here are my predictions for the two finals:
Kim Clijsters to beat Li Na 6-4 6-4
Novak Djokovic to beat Andy Murray 6-3 7-6 4-6 7-5.
It's just as well those matches are played at night - it's forecast to be 40 degrees in Melbourne tomorrow. On this side of the Tasman we've been feeling the effects of Cyclone Wilma (great name, don't you think?). Water has leaked into my bathroom for the second weekend running, but compared to some people that's nothing.
A couple of weeks ago I applied for an insurance job I saw on Seek. It was based in Wellington, doing the same sort of thing that I did in Auckland for nearly six years and was so glad to escape from. But what the hell. There's no harm in applying, right? So last Friday I got a call from one of the blokes I'd potentially be working with; we spoke for half an hour. I think I came across well over the phone; I did my best to sound knowledgeable but also as friendly as possible, using some typical Kiwi phrases like "mucking in", but I still thought the odds were against me getting an interview (although when I think about it a bit, it's a fairly specialised line of work).
Finding out that I would be having an interview sent me into a mad panic. Christ, I've been in Auckland for seven years, I've finally got used to the place, finally made some good friends, and now I might have to leave. I can't do that. And I'll have to do all that corporate shit again, and worst of all, exams. Should I even go for the interview?
Since then I've had a haircut and my suit dry-cleaned and have calmed down. In fact now I'm looking forward to the interview. Well not the interview itself if I'm honest, but visiting Wellington. I haven't been there since I drove from South Canterbury to Auckland to start my last big job in March 2004. The company are paying for my flights (good isn't it?); I'll be spending Tuesday night there and will head back the next day. My cousin lives in Wellington with her husband and three boys - I didn't think they'd particularly want a fourth, but apparently I'm OK to spend the night with them. From what I can tell I'll like Wellington - its compactness gives it a soul that Auckland badly lacks. But could I leave everything in Auckland behind? My friends and support networks? Love it or hate it, the tennis club? You can't underestimate how important friends are. Moving away from them would be a big deal.
I'm hopeless at interviews, especially competency-based ones like this will be. And of course they'll want to know about all my stunning achievements in my last job (Richard earlier emailed me with some good ideas for things to say there). The chances that I'll actually be offered the job are therefore pretty slim, so the problem of having to leave Auckland is one I'll face if and when I come to it.
Tomorrow I'll be going to Papakura to drop in on Bazza who I haven't seen in ages. We'll be watching the men's final of the Aussie Open - Djokovic against Murray. What an opportunity this is for Murray. Last night I fell asleep twice while listening to radio commentary of his hard-fought win over Ferrer. The women's final will be starting in a few minutes. Here are my predictions for the two finals:
Kim Clijsters to beat Li Na 6-4 6-4
Novak Djokovic to beat Andy Murray 6-3 7-6 4-6 7-5.
It's just as well those matches are played at night - it's forecast to be 40 degrees in Melbourne tomorrow. On this side of the Tasman we've been feeling the effects of Cyclone Wilma (great name, don't you think?). Water has leaked into my bathroom for the second weekend running, but compared to some people that's nothing.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Isner–Mahut all over again?
Mum said she'll ring me at the end of the match between Kuznetsova and Schiavone at the Aussie Open. When that will be is anyone's guess. They're currently locked at 14-all and deuce in the third set, making this the second longest women's match ever. Schiavone earlier saved a whole bunch of match points.
Update: Schiavone has just broken and will serve for the match. Again. This is crazy stuff.
Update 2: She was love-30 down in that game but Schiavone did it! 16-14. I'm Skyless by the way, so I've just been relying on live scoring and speed-of-serve data. It looked like Schiavone was just popping her second serve in, not that I can blame her after 4½ hours. And if any of you think that was the longest professional women's match ever, you're wrong.
Update: Schiavone has just broken and will serve for the match. Again. This is crazy stuff.
Update 2: She was love-30 down in that game but Schiavone did it! 16-14. I'm Skyless by the way, so I've just been relying on live scoring and speed-of-serve data. It looked like Schiavone was just popping her second serve in, not that I can blame her after 4½ hours. And if any of you think that was the longest professional women's match ever, you're wrong.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Once in a no moon
The lunar cycle takes approximately 29½ days; the average month is slightly longer so you occasionally get two full moons in the same month. The second of these is known as a blue moon, and occurs every second or third year, hence the phrase "once in a blue moon". A far more unusual event is happening this month, on this side of the planet at least, for February won't have a full moon at all. I don't know what the technical term for this is, but I'd tend to call it a "no moon".
Moon or no moon, February is now upon us, so I've now officially been boring people rigid with my inane ramblings for a whole year. I like to think I've made some steps in the right direction in that time, but the last couple of days clearly show that I've got a considerable way to go.
All that wedding stuff is finally over and I'll be heading back to Auckland later today. I'm glad about that. About 85 people attended the wedding; it turns out I was invited after all. The church bit was fine, but predictably I found the reception an ordeal. Worst of all were the speeches. Everybody spoke at length and with a remarkable level of confidence. Where do they get it from I wonder? Of course there were endless jokes, or rather anecdotes, the sort of jokes that Kiwis love and I struggle with. It's not that I don't get them, just that I personally don't find them funny. My cousin and her husband are successful people. They've been living in London for the last two years, making a lot of moolah and travelling extensively throughout Europe and beyond. They've been everywhere. Partout. Dappertutto. As I listened to tales of what they got up to on their ski trips or at the running of the bulls in Pamplona or the Palio in Siena, I really just wanted to crawl into a hole. After the dinner and speeches there was dancing of course, but I successfully escaped that. We were home around 11:30 in time to see the end of the men's Australian Open final. What a finish it was. I felt a bit sorry for Murray - he was unlucky not to at least win a set, and it was obvious after the match how much it meant to him.
The next day we had what they call the after-match function. I ate and drank almost non-stop, not because I needed (or even wanted) any of it but because it gave me something to do. I've now learnt to stick to beer rather than wine at these sorts of events, because you can drink much more of it without having to pay for it later. I did also make some conversation - my extended family are good people on the whole, and there are one or two I'm able to talk to reasonably easily. Somebody, who obviously doesn't know me that well, was desperately trying to convince me to go on an Outward Bound course.
There are no more family weddings on the horizon (though someone from the tennis club is tying the knot the weekend after next, and I'll be going to the reception). Last weekend Mum said to me, "wouldn't it be nice to go to your wedding one day?" I imagine that day will be some time after the next no moon.
Moon or no moon, February is now upon us, so I've now officially been boring people rigid with my inane ramblings for a whole year. I like to think I've made some steps in the right direction in that time, but the last couple of days clearly show that I've got a considerable way to go.
All that wedding stuff is finally over and I'll be heading back to Auckland later today. I'm glad about that. About 85 people attended the wedding; it turns out I was invited after all. The church bit was fine, but predictably I found the reception an ordeal. Worst of all were the speeches. Everybody spoke at length and with a remarkable level of confidence. Where do they get it from I wonder? Of course there were endless jokes, or rather anecdotes, the sort of jokes that Kiwis love and I struggle with. It's not that I don't get them, just that I personally don't find them funny. My cousin and her husband are successful people. They've been living in London for the last two years, making a lot of moolah and travelling extensively throughout Europe and beyond. They've been everywhere. Partout. Dappertutto. As I listened to tales of what they got up to on their ski trips or at the running of the bulls in Pamplona or the Palio in Siena, I really just wanted to crawl into a hole. After the dinner and speeches there was dancing of course, but I successfully escaped that. We were home around 11:30 in time to see the end of the men's Australian Open final. What a finish it was. I felt a bit sorry for Murray - he was unlucky not to at least win a set, and it was obvious after the match how much it meant to him.
The next day we had what they call the after-match function. I ate and drank almost non-stop, not because I needed (or even wanted) any of it but because it gave me something to do. I've now learnt to stick to beer rather than wine at these sorts of events, because you can drink much more of it without having to pay for it later. I did also make some conversation - my extended family are good people on the whole, and there are one or two I'm able to talk to reasonably easily. Somebody, who obviously doesn't know me that well, was desperately trying to convince me to go on an Outward Bound course.
There are no more family weddings on the horizon (though someone from the tennis club is tying the knot the weekend after next, and I'll be going to the reception). Last weekend Mum said to me, "wouldn't it be nice to go to your wedding one day?" I imagine that day will be some time after the next no moon.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Is Fed's Fight for Fifteen Finished?
"Fourteen" in the title above would also have worked, but you can be sure Roger wants to break Pete Sampras's record, not just tie it. I didn't see last night's Australian Open final (I only have poor man's TV) and fell asleep to the radio after three-and-a-bit sets, but from the bits I heard and a glance at the stats, it sounded like a match Federer should have won. His reaction after the loss shows how much it means to him. Let's hope he can come back from this.
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