Grand Slam

Key:  Purple comment = under 40s will need to Google.

As all you avid followers will know (which means you, Becky) my mission this year was to go to all 4 tennis grand slam tournaments. Well, it wasn't really, but once I found myself at the Australian Open I thought I'd done the hardest one so why not.

Got the towel.

Next was the French. Went there by Eurostar with Anthony and very lovely it was too. Passing strangers used the hostel's lobby internet to watch full-on, hard core porn, which was a bit weird.

The kids at Roland Garros were really loud. Old man Anthony huffed and puffed but I liked it. We even heard a mother 'ohh la la' her child. If only she had been sporting a beret and a pearl of onions we could have replied 'Bingo!'

Got the towel.

So next up, Wimbledon. Wimbledon is the hardest to get tickets for. I failed in the general ballot, and I failed in the tennis club ballot: but Paul came to my rescue and we shared the pair of tickets he drew. Hoorah for Paul!

Very serious Wimbledon. We kept getting 'sushed!' for talking to each other. Got the towel.

So that just left the US.


Getting tickets for Flushing Meadow was easy. Too easy. And cheap. Too cheap. Spent months stressing that I had the wrong end of the stick. "Sir, these are tickets to the viewing area in Flushing Meadow MALL. Its 8 blocks South. Move along now Sir. Have a nice day"

So unconvinced am I that I am actually going that it only dawns on me the night before that I need to pack. Shoot, what have I been doing for the last 4 months?

As all you avid readers of this blog will know (still you Becky) my advice last time was to travel light - so I do. No toiletries, very few gizmos, just a few t-shirts. Figure I can buy whatever I need there - its the yew ess of aa after all, not deepest, darkest bongo bongo land. Will give me something to do!

Day 1

Feeling really exceptionally pleased with myself. With no hold luggage it took less than 10 minutes to check in (used an ATM-like machine) and to get through security. So much for allowing 3 hrs. And, get this, at the US end....it was even quicker. From the 'ping, ping' Starter's pistol of the fasten seat belts light going out I was off the plane, through customs and in the back of a cab in again, no kidding, about 10 minutes. I only wish Ross McWhirter had been there.

So, without having suffered any of the usual indignities and discomforts of the budget traveler (slept most of the flight) come 1pm Saturday I find myself in a beautiful Boston park. I've been so efficient I have to wait a few hrs for my room to become available.

Have a hot dog and a raspberry ice (both of which are splattered liberally about my person - doooh!).

Lovely as the park, the bride and her maids were, sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name and they're always glad you came; you want to be where you can see our troubles are all the same; you want to be where everybody knows your name.

        

I had planned to go out in the evening - its Saturday night after all, But I took a little nap at 7pm and next thing I knew it was 1am. Is 1am a good time to go out....? Nahh, watched loads of rubbish TV on my laptop till 4.30 instead. Getting old hey.

Day 2

After much consideration, I decide to take the top of the range 'trolley tour' hop on hop off affair to see the city. You know, like all those really old people do.

I see a trolley stop and people geting off. 

"Can I join here?" I ask. The driver stares blankly at me. There's a pisshh sound, the doors close and he mouths at me through the glass, in a very exagerrated way, 'Nooo !'

Pisshh. "Only kidding!" And so the comedy routine started. The driver, Jon, was hilarious. And he didnt charge me anything. I tried to pay but he wasn't bothered. I couldn't jump off the tour then cos, well, to get back on another trolley I'd surely have to pay, and I couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing than listening to his commentary. Every time someone got on he broke into a routine about where they were from. No matter where they were from he had facts about the place that related some how to Boston. When he suggested putting the screaming kid in the hold, oh, the tears of laughter..

At one point he took a detour to pick up some Mormons on their way to church (one was clearly struggling). Then we had the potted history of Mormonism(?). "How am I doing guys? Feel free to correct me or chip in". "No, you're doing great". At one point he recited 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe because someone came from his state, plus everything you ever wanted to know about him. Sometimes he just talked rubbish though, which was really funny. Nobody else seemed to get it.

With some regret I leave Jon. Having saved me $40 which would have been well spent, I give him a generous tip. Guess that was his plan all along.

Found this shop. Merry Christmas everyone!

Inside it was all smultzy glitz. All sparkle, no variety. My favourite was the Village People-esk range of near naked mer-men borbels. The fireman, complete with classic shiny bronze helmet holding his charged hose in hand took some beating. Wanted to take a photo but feared I might be contravening some decency bi-law.

Again, fell asleep about 7pm only to awaken about 2am. Guess I'm still on UK time. So miss out on Boston nightlife again.

Day 3

Its the 'labor day' holiday today and the hostel throws a free BBQ. The hostel is excellent. Free breakfast, free popcorn, free korrfee, free pool, free WiFi. Its www.40berkeley.com if you are interested.

Take a leisurely stroll to check out the route I need to take at 5am tomorrow to the bus station. Buy some toiletries. Talking of which...is it custom to leave shampoo and the such in hostel showers? Every time I went to the 'washroom' facilities there were more and more lotions and potions - all mostly full. Just wondered.

Holiday weekend in Boston attracts the show-offs.

Watch some guys throwing a frisbee to and fro. From the right side, from the left, horizontal, vertical, out wide and doing a dog-leg, every time coming to a hovering stop right where the other was. Awesome!

Things I expected to be abundant weren't. Cinemas, buses, places to buy burgers & fries, fat people, native Americans - all very sparse.

Watch the tennis in the hostel cinema. I knew 2 days ago that the Roddick match (which is very likely to be his last) would almost certainly be 7pm Tues but didn't buy a ticket in case it was raining. Now, they announce as expected and there is a frenzied rush for tickets. I keep getting beaten to the spare seats. They vanish on screen before my eyes. Eikk - should have bought them when I could. Luckily, I remember a site that sells tickets for sessions people can no longer attend and manage to get an already sold ticket. Hoorah! Also manage to stay awake late enough to go out for a beer. Hoorah!

Day 4

Awaken to the sound of lashing rain. Not good considering how much tennis I've paid for today. Set off in the darkness atired in my kangaroo leather, bush rangers hat. Feel very intrepid. Looking the business.

At the bus station I watch the guy in the video below walking round and round and round. Round and round and round. Figure he may have had one sherbet dab too many last night.

Did you notice anything significant about his lap? I did, hence the video. He takes almost exactly 1 minute to go round. Every time. He's a massive clock.

The bus was very comfortable. Caught up with this blog and some emails, then arrived in NY. 

Miraculously, I found my way to the hostel without really trying (I just sort of followed the crowd and figured it out). I asked reception to call me a cab to take me to the tennis cos time was pressing on.

Well, I've never found a cab ride so stressful. My driver, Yez Hokey, only knew 2 words of English. I tried to explain where I wanted to go. "The US Open tennis - Flushing Meadows". Nothing. "Err..Corona Park..? Queens...? New York Yankees...? Baseball stadium...Billie Jean King, Andy Roddick, Serena Williams!". Nothing.

He thrust a phone in my face and I found myself talking to his English teacher! Some time later, we were on the freeway. There was a big sign for the tennis."Ah, look, tennis, tennis". I point. "Exit 22". Nothing. Like an owner pointing the way for his new puppy, all Yez Hokey saw was an excited white guy with his arm extended.

"Twenty two. Two, two, dos dos, deux deux" I'm holding 2 fingers on each hand in front of him. Zip, zilch, nadda. I'm jesticulating veer off right with my hand, Im doing an impression of a learner driver turning the steering wheel 'ten to two' style. Oh sweet mother of mercy why wont you understand!! He doesn't even get it when there is a picture of a cab and a big arrow pointing right on the roadsign in front of him. 

Some considerable time later, 3 calls to his English teacher and stopping to ask 5 cops the way I complete my 20 minute journey in just short of an hour and a half. Yez Hokey had no way of telling me the fare. I tried but...in the end I just threw a $20 bill at him. Probably the right amount for the distance but not the time taken.

Got there just in time for the rain.

Eventually see Marion Bartoli kicking Sharapova's butt (4:0 before rain stops play) then the big event... Roddick v Del Potro. Here's how his home crowd turned out for almost certainly his last ever match:

Remember, this was a capacity sell out event. I calculated there was about $5m of un-used but paid for seats.

Mind you, maybe they just knew the New York weather better than us jolly foreigners because it only lasted 1 set before being abandoned. Worked out well for me cos I was really tired and wanted to go to bed, and, next day I got a full refund.

Didn't sleep very well in the hostel because my 'private room' isn't so much a room as a cubicle. The walls dont go all the way up to the ceiling so all the light from outside and next door floods in and you hear everything. At 2am, for example, its lights on, lights off, slam doors, lights on, lights off etc until 4am. Then its lights out, but the thigh slapping and the 'oh yeah baby' starts. You can imagine the rest. I had no choice.

                                             Day 5

Good grief, its still raining.

There isn't much play today. End up taking lots of photos of wet courts, sad looking officials, rain etc. Do get to see the Roddick match conclude.

Think this is an awesome image.
Farewell Andy Roddick.

Because of all the re-scheduling, I get to see Andy Murray in action against Cilic, which is a bonus. I was going to title whatever picture that followed 'Murray gets trounced by Cilic', but as I got there he started pulling it back big style.

Apparently Pippa Middleton was in the crowd.

I realise I am falling asleep watching Murray so head back to the hostel. I stop on route at a bar where I meet the barman Eric who had just become a dad to Nicholas. Very cute. Eric looks 22 but is in fact 42. I'm amazed. Also chat with Joe, 26. Feel very sorry for Joe, or rather grateful for my lot in life. He isn't a misery, far from it, but is already $80k in debt cos the way schooling works here and has very poor prospects. He is such a nice guy. Notice he has to sneak out to get more money (he'd only spent like $7). I'm sure he only stayed cos I was gassing so much so I pay for his drinks whilst he is out. Feel a bit of an arse doing so (it was only $30 for all mine and his...sure we drank more than that!). I dont do things like that well - never throw money around. Decide next day that I'm done with drinking.

Day 6

What's this? Has the rain abated?

I decide to have a day of British boys. First up is 'Princess' Liam Broady. I heard one of the coaches call him that and I liked it. Talk about being full of yourself. This guy struts around like John Wayne meets Guy the Gorilla. He does all the 'You can not be serious!' routine, always smashes a tennis ball into the crowd at the end of a match, gives his sweaty headband to a ...err...'fan', always drops his racket and falls to his knees when he wins and, after a bad point (or a spectacularly good one for that matter) goes into a drama routine way way after the moment has passed, like when he gets to his chair or the other end of the court. Bizarre. He thinks he's an international superstar - bless.

Then there's Joshua 'I'm a little tea-pot' Ward Hibbert. He loses quite quickly. He's actually a big lad with a proper sowff London vocabulary. I just thought 'little teapot' when I saw this photo - says more about me really than him!

As you can see, the Boys competition is not hugely popular with the US crowds. Have to confess I much prefer watching them. Its up close and personal. You can sit wherever you like - and see! I was sat with the British team and Greg Rusedski.

I even caught a few tennis balls.

You cant get much closer than this:

Kyle Edmund (in red) loses one of his singles but wins his doubles. I will cheat a little here and tell you that he goes on to win in the final.

Unfortunately, he does so at the same time as Andy Murray is winning his semi so I miss it.

Liam keeps winning. He beats this French lad, Maxime Hamou.

He is tiny but I have never seen anyone hit the ball so hard. His racket makes a whistling sound with the power and the crowd (such as they are) make numerous gasps in unison at how ferocious he is.

Return to the hostel with plans to take a trip to Niagara Falls come Monday since I dont fly home 'till Tuesday evening. Proves harder than I thought and I suppose I should wait to see how the weather pans out.

                   Day 7

Well hoorah bizarre with bells, buttons and knobs on. 

Its sunny.

The BBC weather forecast a few hours earlier predicted rain and thunderstorms all day. Think again BBC.

Spend all of 5 mins in Arthur Ashe stadium today (centre court) because the outdoor courts are much better. More boys tennis. I've already shown pics of them so here is some random stuff:

 

                            You can play spot the celebrity.

                               Can you see the star below?
                                                   No?

                    Middle of the photo, wearing salmon t-shirt.

      Sean Connery - of course.

I've always loved the US Open. As a kid it came right at the end of the Summer holidays. Because of the time difference, it was on really late and it had that 'live via Telstar' sound about it. That and the huge stadium made it all feel very exciting.

In Sept 1988 I went to the US for the first time. I stayed with my friend Ted and we watched the US Open. I remember watching Mats Wilander beat Lendl in an epic 5 hr revenge match.
My desire to visit was born.

So, 24yrs later, bumping into Mats under a tree sent a tingle down my spine.

Day 8

As I awaken and look out the window it looks sunny again so I spend some time applying the various lotions and potions to protect myself - spray on factor 100! (Which sets on you like creosote by the way - you go out looking like you've been dipped in treacle). Back in my day it was factors 2, 4, 8 and if you were flourescent white, a ridiculous factor 15. Oh those joyous cacogenic days!

Anyhows, by the time I emerge from the bathroom, it is chucking it down.

I get hit by 2 Persians and a Cocker Spaniel.

Thank goodness I have an underwater camera.

Again though, it works out well for me cos thanks to my neighbour leaving her light on until 5:08am (what in the name of holy smoly is she doing...and when does she sleep?) I dont get going until hours after play is due to start. As it pans out, I get there just as the first ball is being served.

The day soon clears up but man is it windy. It's actually quite scary in the Arthur Ashe stadium cos the wind billows round the bowl. The guys serving are really struggling. Berdych does one serve that doesn't even land anywhere in the court. Empty bottles are rolling around, bags and wrappers are floating past and the court microphones are amplifying the roar of the wind. It is blumin' hot though.

Just as, for the first time ever, I apply sunscreen to my forearms, I hear boos from the crowd. Play has been suspended and the NY authorities are instructing us to go home immediately. This is rather worrying. How bad is the expected rain in 45 mins going to be?

As 30,000 people head for the subway cops are at the doors. This cop tells us a tornado is on its way. A tornado!!

Out of the train window I see the cloudless pale blue sky punctuated by an approaching wall of purple menace. This bank of cloud clearly has the start of the funnel reaching down to the ground. It has some way to go yet but how long do these things take?

                  Day 9

Well, still here, haven't been swept away to Munchkin Land or back home to Kansas.

Find out the final is now scheduled for 4pm Monday. Think there could be a lot of empty seats for the final and a lot of very dissappointed overseas fans. All week I have been sat next to a huge Andy Murray fan. She has to leave for the airport about 4pm - exactly when the final is due to start. She wont be able to make it.

So, Djokovic - Ferrer semi, Boys final and Ladies final today.

First, its the boys. Given that this is a Brit in a Grand Slam final I'm expecting some UK celebs, who perhaps aren't so well known stateside...maybe?

There's Judy of course. And Greg.

But also, right next to me, unbeknown until he got up and shimied past me, was the guy with his back to the camera (OK - I was a bit slow lining the shot up - no paparazzi future for me).

Sir Cliff !

Hang on....isn't that Victoria Beckham too?

Liam (I wont call him Princess now 'cos that was just mean) seems nervous; sending his serves way out. As he takes a bit of a thrashing I leave to watch the Men's semi - where Ferrer is taking a bit of a thrashing.

When I return to the Liam match things are hotting up - metphorically and literally. Quite a crowd has gatherered in the glorious weather and the 2 finalists edge to 5-5 in the final set.

Liam just gets pipped at the post by Canadian Filip Peliwo. He has been in all 4 junior Grand Slam finals this year. He makes a very mature, considered speech on winning; thanking the crowd, his team, the court staff and sponsors etc. and rounds up people for photos. A future star perhaps?

Incidentally, notice that having played right-handed, he is in fact, left handed. I thought left handedness in tennis was encouraged as giving one a bit of an edge. Nadal is right-handed but his uncle Tony taught him to play left handed to spice his game up.

And so the Ladies final. Think this calls for a bit of razzmatazz:

The final is sponsored by the yellow baseball cap company (JP Morgan bank, actually). Everyone gets a free hat which is awesome. I was going to buy a US Open hat but at $26 thought I'd see how much I had left come the last day. Now I dont have to. Its a good hat! 

Now, have to confess, the reason I'm wittering on about the hats is...because...after a lovely day in the sun, a whole week of tennis, brushing shoulders with sooo many celebs (lol) AND a free hat, I didnt really care who won the ladies final. Even at 5pm it was still like an oven in the stadium and I just fancied getting home. So....I watched the first 3 games and then went back to the hostel. Watched Serena's victory on my laptop.

I will NOT be leaving the Men's final early. Wonder if there will be any more freebies? Think the Men's is sponsored by Mercedes!!

Day 10

I'm so excited its ridiculous. I wont pretend to be a massive Murray fan. Its not that I dislike him, he just doesn't appeal to me.

That said though, the absolute ideal scenario would be that he slugs it out to an epic 5 setter, with a few dramas along the way, but prevails in the end. Lots of emotion, bit of crying perhaps, Lendl breaking into a spontaneous dance routine with Judy...ok, perhaps getting a little carried away.

Its not till 4pm though so I head off for a walk.

Probably not the safest part of New York.

Happen upon a ferry pier. Its only $4 (am I coming across as very tight in this blog?) so take a trip. Terrific views of the Manhatten skyline.

And so......what its all been about....the final!

Lets get this show started! 



Andy makes a cracking start. A mere two and a half hours in and he's 2 sets up. Now, I'm not being horrible, I want Andy to win, but lets have some drama and suffering along the way. Lol.


Come on Novak, make a match of it.

Having complained all week about the heat and the rain, because it hasn't been cloudy today, as the sun sets it gets pretty darn cold. I have to rush out to buy a sweatshirt. The sales guy tells me they have made 90% of their hoodie sales in the last hour.

Quick Andy, Quick!

Djokovic pulls it back to 2 sets all. Now I have to switch again to supporting Andy. Andy leads 4:2 in the 5th which sounds great but he's only one break up and it's Djokovic to serve. But then, he breaks again and he's now 5:2 serving for the title.

My favourite moment of the week dawns. Suddenly, there's a realisation that he IS actually going to do it. Up until this moment it had been a pipedream.

Day 11

So, time to go home. Mission complete.

Which leaves just one remaining question.

Which is the better Grand Slam?

Well, in reverse order:

US Open - more a doormat than a towel
Australia - very soft, fits nicely in my tennis racket cover but is seriously falling apart
Roland Garros - good quality but too small to use as a shower towel, too big for courtside use
Wimbledon - the cheapest, the largest, the best quality and properly iconic


My next project starts tomorrow. Stay posted!