Tag: TENNIS

7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

In a last minute change to 7 Reasons proceedings, the post originally planned for today has been postponed in favour of something that happened overnight. A bit like Martin Luther King, I had a dream. Unlike him however, I was the only one to witness it. Which is why I must share mine with you. Now. It was weird.

1. Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! I’m in a house. But it’s also a hotel. And an airport. It’s next to a London train station. It’s supposed to be London Victoria, but it’s not. So I’m in this house – which is also a hotel and an airport – and everything is going well. I am just wandering. Wandering around. Looking at plates and planes and….oh, a playground. I remember now, there was a playground. And then there’s a fire. Like Billy Joel, I didn’t start the fire, but if I don’t get a bloody shift on I’m going to burn to a crisp. (We’ll come to the crisps later). So I start running. And I find myself in a…

2. Room. It’s a bedroom. And it has a window. Two of them in fact. And outside of the window is a roof terrace. And a ladder into the garden. A garden which I can only assume is on the opposite side of the house to the airfield. I open the window and in a move that a contortionist or Anne Widdecombe would be proud of, manage to get myself through the smallest gap in the world. And with it, to safety. We then shift forward to…

3. The Next Day. I can only assume it’s the next day because otherwise I’d be re-entering a house that is on fire. And that would be stupid. And as I had the intelligence to get out the of house fire in the first place, I don’t believe I am stupid in this dream. So, it’s the next day and I am back in the room that I escaped from. There is smoke damage and Dr Howard Denton. You probably won’t recognise this name because he was one of my lecturers when I was at University. What the bloody hell he is doing here, I have no idea. But I don’t seem to care. In fact I am very happy to see him. Because he starts helping me look for my…

4. iPhone Charger. I must have lost it the previous night. Along with my wallet and car keys. Rather brilliantly I find my iPhone charger lying on top of a dressing table. Obviously that’s one of the most important things to do when trying to escape a house fire. Put your iPhone charger on a dressing table so you can come back to get it the next day. You’d do well to remember that. I am so delighted that I’ve found my iPhone charger that I give Dr Howard Denton my crisps. (Told you we’d come back to them). They’re Phileas Fogg range. Irish cheddar with onion chutney flavour. I know I’ve eaten some already because there’s a wooden clothes peg fastening the packet closed. You can say what you like about me, but I know how to keep crisps fresh. This is when…

…I wake up. My girlfriend’s shouting about babies. At least I think she is at the time. In hindsight I am not entirely sure she was. Either way, I show my caring side by asking her if she’s okay. She is, so I fall back to sleep. And I start dreaming again. And I’m back in another house. A house belonging to…

5. Judy Murray. And the only reason I know the house belongs to Judy Murray is because she has just walked through the front door and said, ‘What are you doing in my house?’ For reasons (probably less than seven) unbeknown to me, we go into the garden where I try and explain. Rather splendidly Judy has sofas and chairs in her garden. And I decide to put two chairs together to form a boat. I then explain to Judy that I was merely in her house to work because it was too noisy back at mine. She seems to understand and, for the first time in my life, I begin to like Judy Murray. Which is when everything becomes a blur until I find myself outside Judy Murray’s house. And in through the window of next door, I can see England bowler…

6. Steven Finn. He’s doing the washing up and not looking as tall as I had seen him on TV. To make sure it doesn’t look like I am stalking him, I get down in Judy Murray’s driveway and start doing press-ups. I’m obviously an optimistic dreamer because I do bloody hundreds of them. All while looking at Steven Finn. Until Judy Murray’s front door opens and out walks…

7. Judy Murray. She starts asking me if – while I’ve been living in her house – I have moved the car. Apparently the hedges look a bit bashed up. Now, I don’t remember dreaming about it, but I know that I did drive Judy Murray’s car into the flowerbed. Which is why I lie and deny I have been anywhere near her Volvo. Once again, she seems to understand. Which is when one of my old school friends rocks up and starts telling me how much he loved my film. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I say, ‘Thanks’ anyway. He then mentions he reads 7 Reasons. Which is when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll find out tonight whether he likes it or not.

October 1, 2010
7 Reasons To Like Andy Murray

I know what you’re thinking, ‘Blimey! He’s gone for the impossible post!’ To think like that though, is to underrate my brilliance. Or is it naivety? Either way I am going to do what Andy Murray’s PR Agency has consistently failed to do. Make the miserable, moaning, anti-English, I-don’t-wanna-play-for-the-Davis-Cup-team, tennis supremo, look amiable. Wish me luck.

1. He Always Comes Back. At least when Murray loses, he fronts up, comes back and takes the flack. And you can’t say that about all Scots. Anyone seen that Scottish Prime Minister we once had?

2. Money Is Nothing To Him. Andy has confirmed that he would happily play tennis for free. Which is tremendous of him. I would like to announce here and now that I wish to take him up on his offer. All prize money should now be sent to me. Thanks.

3. Judy Murray. If you don’t like Andy, start now. You are disliking the wrong Murray. Judy is the annoying one. She is the one who thinks Wimbledon is too traditional. And she’s smug. It’s not a good combination. I just look at her and feel annoyed. Try it. It makes you respect Andy. I mean, he has to put up with her all the time.

4. He Has Restraint. You have to hand it to Andy, how he hasn’t punched Gary Richardson yet is something of a miracle. Along with 90% of the nation, he always looks like he wants to. Whenever he tries to walk from the practice courts to the locker-room, Richardson is there, asking stupid bloody questions. ‘How did practice go today, Andy?’, ‘How are you going to play today, Andy?’, ‘Are they your balls Andy?’. And if that’s not enough, Richardson then does the immediate post-match interview, which, without fail, goes like this, ‘Well done. You’ve won. What’s your reaction?’ Come to think of it, if Murray thumped him then I’d probably like him even more.

5. COME ON! Remember the days of the Tim Henman fist clench and the whispered, ‘Come on!’? We all used to hate that. We all wanted him to show a bit more emotion. With Murray comes emotion. When Henman won a great point, he’d clench his fist, look to his mother and father and jog to his chair. Then he’d realise it was only 15-40 and he still had two break-points to save. With Murray, it’s completely different. When he has played a great point he’ll come back out of the crowd, scream about Bonnie Prince Charlie, show his muscles and generally get pumped up. In fact, we get to see Murray at his most excitable point. I pity his girlfriend.

6. He’s Due. I don’t mean a Grand Slam, I mean a smile. The fact is though, that Murray isn’t going to smile until he’s got what he wants. England’s footballers were smiling having been beaten by Germany. Idiots. I only want smiling when you’ve won something. Something major. This is surely what Murray is waiting for. I have faith that he has a great big smile. If we all like him and get behind him, he might just show it to us one day. Possibly on Sunday?

7. He’s Our Only Hope. The fact remains that without Murray, Briton’s have no one to support. You may as well support me for all the other British players coming through the ranks. And you really should be thankful to Murray that you don’t have to do that. Despite what people say, my drop-volley really isn’t worth your applause.

July 2, 2010
7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

With the opening credits of BBC’s 2010 Wimbledon coverage came joy, happiness, extortionately priced strawberries and the horror of John McEnroe’s new hair. I say new hair, it’s probably quite old hair, but it does look different. And not for the better. Here are 7 Reasons – in a nicely packaged video format (just to show I can’t be outdone) – that explain why Mr John McEnroe should not have been tempted to rid the old look.

7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

June 23, 2010
7 Reasons To Watch The 2010 Australian Open

1. The Men. All the big guns are there. Nadal isn’t moaning about his back. Federer isn’t crying. Del Potro has stopped growing. Murray has smiled a couple of times. It should be a classic. It probably won’t be, but it should be.

2. The Women. The most popular Belgian exports since Tintin and Snowy will be taking part. That’s right, it’s Miss Henin and Miss Clijsters. You can decide who is who. What a relief it is to have someone other than a Williams or a player whose surname ends with the letter ‘A’ to watch.

3. Goodbye Aussie, Goodbye. That’s to the tune of ‘Let’s go Aussie, let’s go’. I suppose you could do the latter, you just need to shout ‘Home’ afterwards. The state of tennis is Australia is horrendous. I mean it’s almost as bad as it is in the UK. And that’s bad. But at least in Andy Murray, the UK has a chance. Even if that chance would rather win for Scotland or Murrayville. Australia’s hopes remain with Lleyton Hewitt – a man who would probably struggle to beat me while I prance around pretending to be Greg Rusedski – and Samantha Stousr – a lovely girl, but not one who will make it past the 4th Round. It’s great!

4. Two Weeks. Two weeks is a nice time for a tournament. Not too long, but long enough to get us out of January. It hasn’t been a great month for anyone really. It just got worse for me. My toast landed butter side down.

5. Sex Appeal. I don’t care what you say. I am shallow. Female tennis players are hot. The good news is that Australia is also hot and so they may entertain the idea of wearing fewer clothes. I suppose the men might do it too. Not that I understand why anyone would care.

6. Commentary. I am not sure how I’m going to do it, but I must find myself a feed to watch a couple of the 1st Round match-ups. Not because they’ll be classics, but because the commentators are going to be stuttering and spitting all over the place. And as long as they are not spitting over me that sounds like fun. Phillip Krohlschreiber v Horacio Zeballos. A complete mouthful. Then we have Kimikio Date Krumm v Yaroslava Shvedova. Seriously, who names their daughter ‘Date’?

7. Women’s Final. This year it will last more than twenty minutes. I promise. Last year’s final was so quick that by the time one of the ball boys had retrieved a stray ball, Safina was already taking her make-up off. This won’t happen again. If it looks like an even remote possibility, the organisers will deploy their streakers. A reason to watch in itself.

January 18, 2010
7 Reasons Andre Agassi’s Career Should Not Be Overshadowed By Crystal Meth Admission

1. Mistakes. We make them. Human’s are pre-programmed to make errors in judgement. It’s why fifteen million people watch the X-Factor. It’s why we failed to launch this blog on time yesterday. No one means to do these things, but there is something beautiful about not being perfect..

2. Andre Agassi – the tennis playing version – was an entertainer, adored the world over for his bowing, his kissing and his silly pony tail. That is who you fell in love with. Don’t forget it.

3. His autobiography, ‘Open’ hits the shelves soon. Waterstone’s only have so much space in their stockroom. To boycott Agassi’s book, is to prevent booksellers bringing in other titles. Like ‘Methematics For Dummies’.

4. There is no evidence that Crystal Meth is a performance enhancing drug. At least in the sporting arena. All we know, is that when Agassi got high, he had an urge to whip out the feather duster and polish the bookcase. Nothing wrong with a spot of cleaning now and again is there?

5. He’s retired. The future generation of tennis stars aren’t watching Agassi. They are watching Murray and Nadal. They are the role-models of today and we should be thankful for that. The game needs bigger biceps and more monotone voices.

6. We don’t remember Jennifer Capriati or Martina Hingis for anything other than their performances on court. Or their legs. Agassi should be treated in a similar vein. His legs were superbly crafted specimens.

7. I haven’t looked at Agassi’s bank account recently, but I doubt he’s short of cash. So I don’t buy the usual, ‘let’s put this in the book to sell more copies’ accusation. I think he’s genuinely sorry and if his name is now tarnished, well, then he feels he deserves it. Or maybe his ghost writer holds a grudge?

Do you want to save Andre’s reputation? Join the campaign in the comments section.

October 28, 2009