This is a re-posting of my blog experiences during the Capitala World Tennis Championship Exho held in Abu Dhabi between the 1st and 3rd of January 2009. I originally wrote it for VB and you can find it (with all the wonderful comments and feedback) here. (you need to sign in/sign up)

02.01.2009, Abu Dhabi

Happy New Year!

It’s hard to believe that just yesterday, it was the first! It feels as though time has slowed to a crawl and that 3 p.m. will never get here!

The countdown has begun.

It is 0930; we leave for the stadium at around noon. Counters open at 1200 and we’ll have to exchange the ‘online receipt’ for the tickets. I’d imagine that it’ll be a long queue- you could only purchase your tickets online and if you wanted to exchange it for the tickets ASAP, you’d have to go to the boxofficeme HQ in Dubai media city- that’s a hellish place to navigate! I don’t know what to expect with regard to the queues. It’s AD- she surprises me more often than not. Perhaps they’ll be organised and it’ll be quick and painless!

NOTE TO SELF:
Take pictures of the tickets!

Traffic shouldn’t be a problem-kind of! It’s Friday- which is a weekend here as it’s the Holy Day- so the roads should be clear. On the other hand, they’re constructing a stupid tunnel and have shut down random roads. Hope Papa knows which ones- wouldn’t want to be late, thanks to this nonsense! I’d much rather be too early than be late. Glad I’m not driving, I’d probably get a few speeding tickets and end up with a suspended licence- if I had one!

Spent a sleepless, fidgety night; tossing and turning. Woke up early (0730) and drank copious amounts of tea. Maybe I should drink some coffee too- staying awake won’t be a problem, it’s my energy levels I don’t want flagging. Taking photos, yelling out loud and of course, banner waving takes energy!

It’s sunny outside, supposedly 21°C. It was windy-slight nip in the air- when I stepped out onto the balcony earlier. Maybe take a sweater just in case.

CHECKLIST:

1. Cameras:
-4 memory cards, empty
-Batteries fully charged (+1 extra, charged battery for my camera.)
-+ iPhone camera for emergencies.

2. Banner, rolled up: DO NOT FORGET

3. Thin sweater, sunglasses, diary + pen, SUNSCREEN!

4. WATER!

5. Inhalers (In case I start hyperventilating due to the sheer presence of His Rafaness or in case Rog’s Big Head sucks in all the oxygen)

6. Do I need a hat? If so, where did I put them all?

7. Parents.

8. Tickets/ Directions to get there* +ID!

Checklist, all spread out on my bed before I cram it all into my bag. Spot things on the list:

(I realise the picture is grainy)
You can also see the bit of the ‘The Beast ends the streak’ headline/article.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten to put a tonne of things on the list and I’m bound to remember when we’re halfway there! Le sigh.

Trying to remember what it is I’ve forgotten:

Speaking with Papa this morning: he reckons Rafa will win (odd, he’s quite the Federite), but that Fed will make it to the final. I’m not so certain about Fed- I think Murray will win today. I certainly hope so, in any case. I’d love for Rafa to kick off ’09 by beating Murray on HC. Papa also thinks that the exho is rigged. I’m rather surprised that they’re playing- the prize money isn’t all that fantastic! Perhaps the credit crunch really has hit everyone!

I’d love for Fed to lose to Murray today! Abi’s stepdad, Roger, is Swiss and I’ve always asked Abi how he’s doing after a Fed loss, for a few years now. She said she’d give me his ticket to the final if Fed doesn’t make it and Rafa does- fingers crossed!

Pity Abi couldn’t get a ticket for today. I really, really hope I can get a ticket for the final- especially if Rafa’s playing.

Dun. Dun. Dun.

Listening to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ now, trying to get into the right frame of mind to cheer with. Mind numbed, giggly behaviour is NOT cheering mentality. Perhaps I should stock up my mp3 player with Rafa tunes…

Should I carry a book in case the ‘rents start bickering again and I have to pretend I don’t know them?

Mum’s been collecting Rafa pictures from newspapers/magazines for me while I was away at Uni. She’s only just found the pile and wants to know if I have time to make a collage. Probably, but maybe not…how am I to hold up the slash-sleeves banner? It needs maximum visibility and I’d like to save the Rafa pictures/collage for a non-exho. I might come to regret this decision.

Also found a magazine article on the Wimbledon victory in the pile. The headline: ‘The Beast ends the streak’.

Not pleased. Article also refers to Rafa as the ‘young pretender’. Elitist cows! I think it could be looked at in terms of not just elitism, but also the racial undertones and connotations of the sport and its subsequent image- created by both the pundits of the game and the media, of course. It’s extremely evident in the description of Rafa as juxtaposed against that of Fed. I don’t want to cause controversy. That’s a lie, I probably do want to. I know this has been discussed before, but…

Anyway.

If Rafa’s the Beast… Rog certainly isn’t the Beauty, the smarmy; large-nosed git!

*Directions for the Tennis Stadium at Zayed Sports City:

It doesn’t look as complicated here, but Papa and I tried to find it a few weeks ago; but it was quite difficult! No signs, no arrows pointing ‘HERE’…nothing. Just massive beige buildings for the football stadium and tonnes of parking space! Hope they’ve got arrows and stuff leading the way now! I don’t want to end up at the Ice Rink again.

The players are all staying at the Emirates Palace Hotel. It’s GORGEOUS. It has its own courts (of course) so he can practice there. Murray might possibly practice/hang out at the Club.

I should take pictures of EPH- note to self.

It’s also ÜBER expensive! It’s built on its own private beach that’s like a kilometre long or something. It has its own helipad! I heard that all the rooms have their own butler- this is as luxurious as luxurious can get!

When George Bush Jr. was here in Jan ’08, this is where he stayed.

I heard it cost about $3 billion to build- maybe more. What can I say? They build islands for fun; a hotel is now child’s play!

It has REAL gold in its room panelling/decoration/whatever. How SICK is that? At least we know where the loot is if the world falls apart!!

http://www.exploreabudhabi.com/ << Virtual Emirates Palace Hotel

Just received an e-mail from Capitala: officially sold out! NO! Since when are people in AD interested in tennis?! –confused- Point me towards the tennis fans, please.

Maybe someone will return their tickets? Fingers crossed. Well, at least we know they’re (by ‘they’, I mean Rafa+ team) are safe at EPH. The security is ridiculous!  Maybe I can find someone I know who has clout and can get me in…

Oh, the Middle East. It’s all about who you know. Unfortunately, having left in ’04, I now know NOBODY influential. Boo!

Now to debate about what to wear: jeans or a skirt? I wonder how hot it’ll get. =/ It was rather sunny yesterday…

Here’s the banner I made (again):

I know the text is all wonky- I’m crap at art, sorry!

The Rambling Angels have been lovely and there has been talk of starting a ‘slash-sleeves’ campaign- this is my small contribution! My parents are worrying about my sanity. Ah well, it’s a just cause-must campaign. It’s a shame to hide those gorgeous arms. I’ll buy the (extra) fabric Nike wants to use for the sleeves.

I would hate to see Rafa wear the sleeves for the exho, but I must admit; it’ll make the banner more relevant. I should take a marker with me, just in case he’s wearing the sleeveless kit- I can write, ‘It’s a shame to hide those arms, Nike’ or something on the back of it. Hmm.

1230, Mum is still waddling over what to wear. Extremely annoyed and antsy, I am. I’m raring to go, hopped up on coffee and excitement.

1245: We’re finally on the road. Sat in the back seat, scribbling. They’re playing Queen on Radio 1. Good omen, no?

We should be there in about twenty minutes, the roads are all clear- so far. We haven’t had to deal with any of the crazy road blocks either. It’s sunny and quite warm- the temperatures are sure to drop in the evening, the wind is rather strong. Wonder how it’ll affect Rafa’s game- his top-spin and serve, in particular? I guess as it’s HC, it won’t be as much of a factor as if it were clay or grass. Perhaps it’ll be that warmish wind that ended up causing all the fog on the night of the 31st. Hmm. It gets rather sticky then, so perhaps the tennis balls will absorb moisture and become heavier?

Mum took AGES over what to wear. She’s all, ‘what if I’m not appropriately dressed?’ I was frustrated- not just because of the waiting, but because this is AD- who the hell cares? Incredibly irritated, I was.

Empty Roads! YAY!

I think I’ve bored my parents into a stupor. I started chattering about top-spin and Mum made a comment about Fed in response… The car is silent except for my blabbering until we get there.

We enter the Main Gates and Hallelujah! There are people there in those shiny, reflector, fluorescent-coloured garb to tell you which way to go! And signposts! Parked the car, and joined the hordes of people just as it hit 1300.

As you walk in, you see this big archway:

..and that random dude ruining my picture. He was trying to sell a ticket for the match. I did my good deed for the day and told some bloke looking for an extra ticket inside the stadium …hooked them up!

Here’s another look at the archway, still obscured by people:

The ticket lines were practically non-existent. It was interesting, you just walk in through the archway- up a platform and follow it to the end. It’s about a five minute walk. I felt as though I was a cow that was being shepherded (cleverly) through a tunnel by sticking attractive pictures of grass around or something. My attractive picture was of course:

(Rafa, not the others!)

And then you find yourself at the end, where there is a ticket booth, of sorts. It’s a massive awning, with a row of tables and some dudes hanging out. It has these tiny placards which tell you the tier and you just go hand them your receipt and they hand you:

The thing is, you don’t actually have to show your ticket until you try to enter Centre Court. To enter Centre Court, you need a wristband which denotes which tier you’re in. This is what it looks like (forgive the blurry picture):

You can pick this up by exchanging the stub of your ticket either right after you pick up your ticket or before you enter Centre Court. Which means, you don’t need a ticket to watch the players practising on the courts or to stand at the autograph zone!

So, I didn’t know that I could get the yellow wristband later, so we got ours and as we walk through, we see all the sponsors: NIKE!

Alarm bells went off and I had a sinking feeling about all the hot, extremely fit Capitala volunteers’ clothing sponsor. Then I espied a cap with a swoosh- OH NOES! There goes any chance of my banner getting on telly- but I suppose, in a roundabout manner, it means they realise they’re idiots- no?

I finally found a signboard and saw, ‘AUTOGRAPH ZONE’. I knew Rafa was signing in the afternoon, so I figured I’d queue. The line was rather long; but hey-not like I had anything better to do!

The queue:

See the guy with the Spanish flag? It sent a tingly feeling through to my toes!

As did this:

Ahead of me, there were these two teenaged girls. They seemed all right, if a little air-headed.. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise. They were just incredibly loud! I had my magazine and ticket ready to be signed, along with a non-smudgy pen, my camera hanging from my wrist- I was all set! My parents figured they’d stand in line as well- get an autograph if they can. One of the girls’ randomly squealed and they asked the gentleman ahead of them to hold their spot in the line so they could go see Murray practice. I figured I’d go too- I watched him hit for a while, but I didn’t want to take any pictures without asking first- it seemed a little invasive. I headed back to the LINE THAT HAD NOT MOVED. It was about 1330 now.

I bickered with my parents, watched the kids play tennis wii behind us, watched the volunteers move around until one of them winked at us and said, ‘he’s here’. It was 1405. Suddenly, you could hear the screams and the ‘RAFA!’s. It was unnerving and I was a little, disoriented by the whole screaming mob. My mum was all, ‘the poor lad- how’s he going to deal with this rabid mob? All these autographs?!’

People broke the line, people jumped lines, they swamped the table, nudged people, pushed; shoved, stuck their cameras in his face- it was horrendous. I was appalled:

The girls who’d stood ahead of me in the line were all, ‘If people are cutting in line, I’m so cutting in line!’ Fair reaction, I thought. My dad saw a colleague who waved him over- apparently his daughter had snuck in and somehow gotten an autograph so we could have his spot in the line (he was much closer)- I was embarrassed and extremely self-conscious. My father, ever the pragmatist, said; ‘Do you want the autograph or not?’ I shut up and stood in line, watched the circus unfold and felt a pretty bad for our Rafa. I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him- my mum had, however. ‘He’s wearing a red t-shirt!’ I had to laugh at that- my mum’s about 5′0! How she’d caught a glimpse, I haven’t a clue.

1430, Rafa stood up and whatever semblance of a line there had been, collapsed. People just surrounded him- it was a mob!

I noticed the direction he was heading in- there was only one exit, I legged it over and was the only one standing there- everyone else was following him and the ATP/Capitala/Organiser was saying, ‘Make way for the player, make way for the player’.

I managed to grab a blurry shot of him, but it was somewhat obscured by the not-so-polite organiser dude. I must’ve looked a mess- camera, overflowing bag, holding out a magazine and a ticket with a pen at him and trying not to die at the sheer fantasticness of the Rafa stood in front of me. He was literally half an arm’s reach away from me. If I weren’t so against invading someone’s personal space when you don’t know them, I’d have reached out and touched him. I was sorely tempted. He was smiling and seemed utterly relaxed- and so lean! He’s so tall! I held out my ticket and said, ‘please?’- I must’ve looked really pathetic! I was trying my ‘beseeching eyes’- the ones I use on my mum when I want something* and he looked at me, laughed (hopefully not at me!) and said, ‘Sorry! I have to go’ and smiled. I said, ‘that’s OK!’ and then yelled out, ‘Feliz Año Nuevo’ at his back. He glanced back, smiled and kept walking. I am beyond happy. Right now, I could die and it would be OK. My life is complete. Rafa Nadal, smiled. AT ME. I think I squealed a little bit, afterwards.

*When I told my parents about how I think my ‘beseeching look’ worked for me, they laughed. They said it only worked because I looked like I was a serial killer when I made that face. I hope they’re joking. Seriously.

How did Rafa seem? Relaxed. He seemed unruffled by the mêlée, happy, in good spirits- quick to smile and laugh and he had that twinkle in his eye! He’s quite lean- all that training, I’d say! His hair actually looks lovely this length- I really like it, in any case. It look super soft too! He seemed like he was having a grand time and that he was just chilling out! As my mother said, he wore a red t-shirt and jeans.

I wish I’d thought to have taken a deep breath when he was close- but I guess I’d have smelt OrganiserMan instead! Ew =/

Here’s the blurry Rafa picture- you can almost see up OrganiserMan’s nostrils!

If I look at it closely and scrutinise it, he looks like he’s about to break into a full-fledged smile!
He was rather smiley and jokey- I think the bit of my brain that also captures the background noise can recollect the kids behind him laughing. It’s like he’s the Pied Piper or something…
I could crack a sick joke right now, but I’ll refrain.

I sort of walked on clouds for the next hour or so- I was rather distracted through the first set of Murray/Fed.

In any case, it was just around 1430 when Rafa left and we made our way to the stadium. There were a few things I was extremely surprised about. Well, just the one; actually.

I don’t know how familiar most of you are with the Middle East and its policy on alcohol, so I can only tell you what I know of how things work in the UAE. There are alcohol permits that Non-Muslims can have so they can purchase alcohol- though I think this specifically applies to stores, as in buying a bottle of champagne rather than a glass at a bar- that I think anyone can do as long as you’re over twenty one (or is it eighteen?). No one I know has ever been refused a drink at the bar/pub. If you’re caught driving under the influence, you can be tried for breaking the law-drinking, let alone drinking and driving. This is what I understand of it, I could be completely wrong! Basically, drink if you like- keep it on the down-low and don’t put other people at risk. So you can imagine my surprise and yes, shock, to walk up the stairs and see people sitting around on the deck-chairs drinking Heineken! I can recognise beer anywhere- and no, it wasn’t the non-alcoholic beer you get out here! Heineken- in PUBLIC! In Abu Dhabi! My mind just near exploded.

Walked to the gate and normalcy was restored, ‘no cans or alcohol allowed!’ I’m glad though, keeps the heckling and rowdiness at bay- I remember the Euro Cup in Austria. Amount of violence was proportionate to the amount of alcohol consumed.

/end lecture.

The point I completely failed to make was this: it’s kinda cool that they’re trying to be all international (after years of being a cosmopolitan and international city) and accepting.. but now everyone has to drive home…and I don’t get it. I just don’t get it…what the hell happened? How did it suddenly become OK out here?

I was weird-ed out. Which was a good way to start the Murray/Fed match.

Finding seats was a real pain as we’d left it too late to get into the stadium- the seats were all taken/reserved. We finally found ourselves seats together- we were sat on the sides, not at the ends of the court; so it’s easier to view! We were quite high up, but the view was great. It’s the kind of stadium that no matter where you sit, you have a good view of the court.
My view of the court:

(Just better and less meh- thanks, stupid camera!)

One thing I totally forgot to mention was how warm it was while standing in line- I think I have tan lines from that, now! It almost felt like summer in Europe! The wind was cooling though. It was still too hot for some people and you ended up seeing old, flabby men in tiny shorts walk around shirtless, rubbing their chest-hair.

Yeah, enjoy that image. I saw it. In real life.

We were surrounded by British tennis fans so there was huge Muzzah support around me. Just two or three Fed fans who timidly squeaked, ‘C’mon Rogah’ in between the roaring ‘C’mon ANDYY!’s. Diagonally from where we sat (up two rows), there were Federites with the banner ‘Roger Federer, The Legend’ that they’d had printed! They had face paint on too- they were so upset after he lost, they washed it off for the Rafa/Davy match! I must admit, I laughed. There was this family sat next to us- the kids behind us who were obviously learning tennis and kept up a barrage of questions-they were huge Andy fans, of course. It was quite endearing.

Coin Toss:

I don’t know why he has his hands on his hips. Someone remarked that the colour suited him? It does- he also looks healthier now- rather tanned and his hair is all..fixed again. Saw Mirka, she looks the same…but she has very pretty features, it’s hard to see them on telly or in pictures; I think.

Muzzah- he’s still skinny and he’s rather tall, no? Pale too. He needs a tan, badly. He’s cursed with a red-head’s skin..at least he isn’t constantly burning thanks to his hours out in the sun!

The first set was a bit meh, Andy wasn’t as sharp as usual. Fed had a few good shots.

Remember the picture of the hoisted Spanish flag at first? Half-way through the match I realised that the flags were at half-mast. I figured it was in mourning for those who had died in Gaza (New Year’s Eve celebrations were asked to be slightly quieter and not so flashy, in solidarity with the Palestinians), but I found out when I got home that the ruler of the Emirate of Umm Al Quwwain (one of the seven emirates, of which Abu Dhabi is the capital) had passed away:

I remember thinking the Azaan (the call to prayer) had been sounded at an odd time during the Rafa match..I suppose this explains it then!

This is an odd picture of Fed, I thought:

I actually quite like this one of him standing around, it reminds me of what he did through most of FO ‘08:

And because I like Muzzah and usually support him- as long as he isn’t playing Rafa, of course- here are a few pictures of him:

(Him and the lady who was sat in the row in front of us’ hair)

Yes, Mr. Miyagi. He totally looks like he’s pulling a move out of Karate Kid:

I really like this picture because of the shaft of light on the court- of course that doesn’t mean anything, Fed. It’s sunset.

So, Muzzah wins with a third set tiebreak, my dad calls it a real exhibition and Murray talks about his slightly wonky back- he says he hasn’t had a lot of match practice and is a little rusty. He then hands out Waldorf crystal thingymabobles to people who won the Community Cup or w/e:

After the match, whilst waiting for Rafa to take to the court, I scribbled this in my diary:

All that magic and mastery that tennis writers wax lyrical about, the supposed exquisiteness and effortlessness of His Greatness Roger Federer: I don’t get it. It didn’t strike me at all- I tried to sit here and clear my slate of my opinions about the man. I wanted to be fair to the player- see if I too could glimpse what causes awestruck behaviour and all round worship. I’ll admit it, I was excited to see him play- regardless of my thoughts and feelings, he is regarded as one of the greatest of all time- perhaps even The Greatest (only time will tell)- why wouldn’t I be, right? If I’m honest- none of it struck me. Sure, there were shots that were spectacular- ones that should never have been made, speed that drew gasps, angles that my brain scrambled to translate…but I wasn’t touched or moved or inspired by his game, his force or even his tightly-checked emotions about this beautiful sport we both love- at least that should’ve bridged this lack of feeling I have about him. I watched him critically, saw his shoulders droop- imperceptibly, watched him fight back in third and push his way into the tiebreak- it shouldn’t have come to that, Andy! I watched the drop in speed when Andy repeatedly exploited Fed’s backhand- how his strategy didn’t change; even though his weakness had been exposed.

I didn’t feel like I was in the presence of greatness. There was no special moment, no heart-stopping, axis-tilting moment while I was watching him play- him that they call the maestro.

What can I say?

It isn’t you; Rog. It’s me. I’ve been spoilt by heart.

I have special, heart-stopping, axis-tilting moments every time I watch Rafa lift a brow or pump a fist. Every time he pushes a little harder, jumps a little higher, runs a little quicker…every time he raises his racquet and every time his face creases into a smile. What can I say? I’ve been spoilt by heart.

Anticipating Rafa.

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to say thank you for your encouragement and all your kind words- I really appreciate the support! It’s such an experience getting to go to a match- especially when you’re going to watch your favouritest player ever and he wins! Then you come back and you relive it all over again because there’s nothing like sharing that experience with people who understand exactly how you feel. So, thank you for letting me live it- in real time and for allowing me to re-live it with all of you.

As I was watching Murray/Federer, I really wished I could have real, hard-core Rafa fans around. We would’ve had a blast. But as I couldn’t, and as I’m waiting for my videos to upload so I can start on my Rafa/Davydenko rehash; here are a few vignettes/perspectives from my day at the tennis:

1. During Murray/Federer, the linesman called ‘Fault!’ and the little dark-haired boy said incredulously, ‘Did he say F***?!’

2. When the announcer was introducing the players and the chair umpire, the lady behind me asked; ‘Why does he sit in a high-chair?’ (Remember what I said about people in Abu Dhabi and tennis? I rest my case)

3. The same lady’s friend, during Rafa/Davydenko says, ‘Davydenko looks like something out of Lord of the Rings!’ I had to resist the urge to turn around and ask, ‘Gollum?’

4. The British family-with the boys who are learning tennis? They spent a good ten minutes dissing the sleeved look.

5. Nobody yelled out, ‘MUZZAH!’ Everyone called him Andy or Murray.
6.

See the bearded bloke in the blue shorts? Did you guys see him randomly walk across the court during the break after six games? Yeah, he did. I was extremely confused.

7. A lady sitting a few rows behind us, cheering for Rafa kept saying; ‘Come on Nada!’

Thank you all for your kind words and for all your encouragement! It really doesn’t take any effort on my part- I’m thoroughly enjoying the re-living process. It’s interesting to see what your mind stores for you to take out and look at later- if you remember to! And in any case, who am I to hog a Rafa experience- however fleeting- to myself? Things like this aren’t for the hogging, it’s too big to fit your arms around of, it’s too alive. Every time I tell someone or write it down to share it with you all, that feeling- nameless, overwhelming joy that floods your body and you feel absolutely at peace with the world thanks to Rafa?- comes back, replenishes itself so I don’t end up with a facsimile of what it felt like. And if I can help you remember your Rafa-time or give you a smidgen of that feeling…all’s right with the world, no?

Just as a side (but nonetheless relevant) note: I will be going to finals! Abi rang late last night and she said (after I gushed for the longest time. Thank all things beautiful for good friends, they listen to your incoherent ravings and love you at the end of it), ‘Since Federer lost, Roger (her step dad) doesn’t want to go any more. And since he isn’t going, Mom isn’t either! We can go right? Can we sell back the extra ticket?’

I ended up typing the last two posts carried away by the high of knowing you’re going to watch Him win, again. I have no doubt that he will, by the way. I can’t jinx him this. He’ll win. I can feel it.

As soon as Murray stepped off court, the energy levels in the stadium dropped. People ran for the bathrooms and the snack bars. According to my dad, there was a massive queue during the match at both, the snack stand and the toilets. He wondered, ‘who’s watching the match if everyone’s outside?’. My mum and I stayed put the whole time- I couldn’t bear to move! I have to say, the tennis etiquette could do with a little polishing. People moved around mid-point, refused to sit down when the volunteers at the stand asked them to, didn’t turn off their flash while taking pictures (I was blinded for a moment or two by someone at the opposite end- true story!)- they moved around just as the player was about to serve, wouldn’t shut up either! It was especially evident during the Murray/Fed tie break- Fed served first- Murray was caught slightly off-guard thanks to the noisy crowd. To be honest, I was caught off-guard too. I hadn’t thought the tie-break had begun, I was texting Abi to let her know that Fed was on his way out; so she could annoy her step dad about it. Yes, we’re evil; I know.

Having said that about the crowd though, I’m surprised by how many people tried. There was a Mexican Wave, the crowd reacted to Hawkeye, ooh-ed and ah-ed as warranted, cheered and applauded wildly at incredibly executed shots until the players acknowledged them- Good show, Abu Dhabi! Like I said, AD always manages to surprise me even after years of living here and then coming back for regular visits. It’s been growing steadily the past few years- the population (both local and expatriate) has grown by leaps and bounds, it’s almost overcrowded now! True to the Ruler of AD, Sheikh Khalifa Bin Zayed Al Nahyan’s vision; Abu Dhabi will grow to be the ‘cultural centre’ of the UAE. (Yes, ‘Zayed’ sports city is named after the current Sheikh’s father who was the founder of the UAE- more on this later) The tennis exhibition is just another step in that direction (along with the Louvre and Guggenheim), I wouldn’t be surprised if they lobbied hard and spent tonnes of money on trying to make this a tournament. I think they might be successful as well!

I’ve been trying to find a way to express what it felt like to wait for Rafa to take to the court, somehow I always come up short. It’s a curious feeling. You know he’s about to take to the court and you’re assailed by all these concerns, these worries about him, his health, his mood, his clothes, his racquets, his knees, his hair- every little thing about him and yes, you’re worried about everything for him- will the umpire be an idiot (yes, I’m looking at you Lamian Steiner* ), will the crowd act like ungrateful wretches, will Rafa be disgruntled by a call, will the court be good to him, will the wind kick in and be a nuisance? The questions are an unrelenting tattoo, as you all well know. It’s part and parcel of loving him so: we worry, we pray, we curse, we drink, we hold onto talismans we usually dismiss, we send good vibes, we will it to happen. And through it all, there is this calming undercurrent- It’s Rafa. We’re watching him play- live or on telly- and we are that easily pleased. We have faith. We believe. Rafa himself is calming. He’s solid. He’s real. He’ll never give up (not really and not truly, even if he loses and if he has to retire- he doesn’t quit!) and yes, he can take care of himself- so we’re left with the worrying and the hen-like behaviour. And that’s OK. That’s what it is to be a fan, to love more than for yourself. To love for him.

It’s this curious feeling- this somewhat frenzied and nervous behaviour stealing over you at the same time as this wonderful calm- like leaning against a sun-warmed window when you’re cold. It warms you from the inside- yes, there’s a glow; there’s that spark. There’s that stomach-wrenching knot and there’s that easing of tense shoulders as you realise: he’s got that look. The look that says, ‘it’s a beautiful night for winning’. And you recognise it in an instant- you don’t even have to look at his face for it. It’s in the way he walks onto court- his very manner, his demeanour, his attitude. We, as fans, wear our hearts on our sleeves for him, we place it on a platter and gift it to him at every match. He, walks with his held proudly within his very being. It reaches out to us, extending itself-so potent, so powerful, so absolutely wonderful. This is what hugging a giggle must feel like: fun, unexpected, spontaneous, real, wonderful- I don’t think I have the adjectives any more.

I felt this rush of emotions, just waiting for him to appear. Anticipation and I have never been good friends- I have no patience, I itch to know and I want to know, right now. I fidgeted- texted Abi, scribbled in my diary, spoke to mum and willed the clock to move just a little faster. And then there was the image of him on the screen, bouncing on his heels; raring to come out. Apparently Davydenko had already made his way onto court- I wasn’t really paying attention to him. That look at Rafa- on a big, projector screen thingymabub- it was like coming home.

That first instant that you open the door to your house after a long time away- you’re just hit by this avalanche of things: the way it looks, smells, feels, the familiarity, the comfort, the associations, the memories- it’s just a few seconds where you can’t move: but it is one of the greatest feelings ever. You realise that your memory has failed you: it could never really capture this. Just like Rafa. Our minds, our memories are feeble- we are but human- nd it cannot take the magnificence of Rafa and reduce it to our sepia-toned versions, no matter how much we photoshop it and colour it in. It can’t compare.

He just pops out at you. On television, he’s larger than life. In real-life.. he’s much the same. Television though, just like our memories, doesn’t do him justice. The first glimpse of him (no matter how many times you’ve seen him before- I’ve seen him play doubles at Chennai in ‘07), I think, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s hard to breathe for that one instant. The crowd, the wind, the fluttering banner- it all ceases to exist. You’re here. He’s here. And your life,for that one second, makes sense.

The second hand moves and it’s all back again. The crowd’s yelling; people clapping; the wind; the atmosphere: it’s all there. You look at him and you try to be critical, objective, try disconnect- it’s impossible. It just won’t work. I finally understood what Angela meant when she said, ‘You’re so beautiful,it hurts to look at you’**

But, you know, you deal with the pain

Blurry image of jacket-ed Rafa:

*Lamian Steiner, famed chair umpire during the RG ‘04 incident with Grosjean.
** Angela is a character from the early ’90s show ‘My So Called Life’, the quote is from the TV show.
I’d unfurled the banner just before Rafa came on. It had gotten darker, the lights were on, the atmosphere was electric. The wind had picked up- I’d finally worn a little tunic-styled dress- and my legs were freezing and goosebumpy- not just because of the wind, of course!

Knackered Risha + banner:

The kids sat behind me are the ones who are learning to play tennis! Though I must say, their theoretical concept of tennis could do with some major brushing up.

It was interesting to see the reaction the banner got, people craning their necks and wondering what it said. The first couple of times I obliged and turned it to an angle they could see from. Eventually, I tired of having to explain it-
‘Nike’s made Rafa wear sleeves, changed his look so it could be more ‘appropriate’ of the #1′
‘It’s probably only for the exhibition’
‘It’s because it’s cold, isn’t it?’

I nearly threw my shoe at them through sheer annoyance. ‘It’s because it’s cold, isn’t it?’ That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.

When Rafa came on and I saw that jacket and those shorts, I wondered whether he was sleeved or de-sleeved. I had my fingers crossed that it wasn’t what it ended up being. Not just because it was hideous, but because it was windy and the banner was nearly ripped out of my hands- which, I admit, were struggling to hold it up and take pictures at the same time! My mum came to the rescue and held onto the banner while I took pictures. My mum is the unfailing optimist in the family, she held up the banner during every mini-break in between games while I zoomed in on Rafa bouncing his knee.

Rafa sucking on his energy tube thing:

I must admit, I didn’t take any pictures of Davydenko. My mum did though- they’re really crap- you can just about make out his shiny, bald pate- so I won’t put it up. I couldn’t bear to waste my memory space on him- though I needn’t have worried, I had more than enough space. I could’ve filmed the whole match- my hands were all a-tremble though, so I should be glad I didn’t.

Rafa unzipped his jacket, his back to us. I waited with bated breath, forgot to take pictures- or couldn’t bear to document this moment, and then it was off. I sat back in my chair, a little deflated. My mum had snorted. She actually snorted in disgust. She followed that up with a, ‘It looks hideous’ and pushed my arm up a little so the banner would be higher up.

Just before the coin-toss, I yelled out; ‘SLASH THE SLEEVES, RAFA!’ The crowd heard (I don’t think it caught on telly? The pre-match commentary would’ve been on, I guess) and laughed- which was encouraging!

Rafa striding to the baseline after the toss:

See Nike, he too turns his back on your crap fashion choices!

The gentleman next to mum, leaned over and asked which one Rafa was and when I pointed him out, he said, ‘Oh yes. What happened to the cut offs?’ gesturing at his arms. Are you listening, Nike? You’re idiots.

I don’t get it. Biggest Marketing blunder, EVER. You’ll regret this, Nike.

Regardless, check out that bum:

Mauresmo was right, he does have the nicest bum on tour. And the nicest bum ever created.

Rafa serving before the match:

Adjusting his water bottles:

Getting his towel and heading for the baseline:

I was the first to yell, ‘COME ON RAFA!’- I’ve only just realised how loud I can be! It’s a really rewarding- I think that’s the word- experience to be able to cheer on your favourite player. There’s something so.. sacred about it. There’s no place of self-consciousness, no place for embarrassment- you’re way beyond that point. You’re working on a baser level where things like other peoples’ opinions don’t matter- unless they reflect yours, in which case you band together in a larger group and just feed off each others’ love of the game, of the man and mutually understand each others’ silence; the smiles; the calm: the important things.

Ready to receive:

Watching Rafa play is such a joy- incredibly awesome experience. I have no real words to express it. I’m glad that I can cross it off my list of life goals- but I won’t, because I’m not done yet. It’s even better to watch Rafa play when he’s come off a long rest, when Nay Sayers are hanging out with the Doubting Toms. When he loses his first game of the first set and is two down; and you’re still calm, you’re not even fussed. My mother was tut-tutting, growing increasingly agitated as the second game came to an end. My father leaned over as Rafa waited for the balls, ‘He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’. Some random knob-end sat behind me remarked, ‘Going according to script, as expected. Davydenko will win’. I remember smiling. I said, ‘It’s Rafa. Have Faith.’

It’s ridiculous that no matter what, Rafa is the one thing I can always be positive about- no matter how bad things are; you’ve gotta have faith, right? And in any case, things weren’t bad- not at all. Rafa looked great (not talking about the kit, though it doesn’t matter -what- he wears. He could even pull off the hideous ‘pattern’ that made him look like he was wearing a flag- was it JLB who said he looked like he was dressed in the Swedish flag? That was spot on!) out there. He was moving well, his knees didn’t look like they were giving him any trouble, his energy level was high, he seemed completely at ease; as though he was in total control- which he was, of course. He was ridiculously comfortable on the surface- I’ll think it. I won’t say it. Not yet.

You know what I’m thinking.

The third game:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W46HfyGc9FQ
Crappy video, my hands really were trembling due to the cold- you can hear the wind, as well as my crappy reaction. ‘Oh no! Challenge?’ It’s not very coherent!

Must go get dressed for the final. I’ll try finish this blog tonight as well as get a fair amount done on the final- fingers crossed! Abi’s taking Roger’s superb analog camera, so maybe we’ll get some awesome shots! If I have time before I leave, I’ll be sure to write some more!

I’m going to wrap-up my Day 2 recap tonight and get to work on the Final tomorrow. But before that, two things about the final:
1. I thought that despite the loss there were several positives to take away from the exho. The match was incredibly close and will probably be the most exciting event of my 2009.
2. An almost-autograph: killed by an incident between two fans (one fat dude crushing little girl in order to get an autograph, gets yelled at by an organiser and Rafa is shepherded away) But nevertheless- two proper, close-ups of his face. I could’ve jumped..he’d have caught me, I’m sure.

Back to my Day 2 recap:

I’ll pick up where I left off: the third game of the first set. Rafa was 0-2 down and then:
1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W46HfyGc9FQ
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnJDnQd6PTY

The video quality is crap on my camera, but it looks worse on youtube!

Oh well. I thought that third game said a lot about Rafa’s mindset. He came in to play and he was determined to do it right. Poor ‘Niko’ didn’t have a chance in hell. Annihilated.

‘The court is my playground, bitch’

‘Balls, Balls, Balls, Balls’

‘Wow, he’s thirsty’

Play ball!

Shakira- that’s the VVIP lounge.

And for those who worried about what she was doing there- she wasn’t even looking at his delectable bottom!

See? Nowt to worry about. He was probably being polite when he went over to speak with her.

I thought Rafa was in supreme control of both sets- he shut the door on Davydenko really quickly. Lots of positives: his footwork seemed good, his ground strokes were breathtaking. Some of the rallies were fantastic- there was an extended and gasp-inducing rally that saw Rafa bounce off the court boarding and come back to hit a winner. Davydenko was denied. DENIED. Imperiously. Rafa was at his no-nonsense best. There was a bit of bickering on court- but to be honest, it was all cut and dry. They were there to play, no bullshit required.

And just like that, the scorecard read: 6-3, 6-2. Videos are still uploading onto youtube, consider this a placeholder, please.

Rafa seemed fresh and was still bouncing on the balls of his feet- raring to go! He looked like he was having fun in AD and that he’d enjoyed the match- playing it and being part of the experience.

He was, of course, mobbed by people demanding autographs. Poor lamb.

I decided that if the telly didn’t want my banner- no matter. I’d still make it relevant:

I also fulfilled (somewhat) my promise: I’d get someone to boink Rog’s nose:

He was asking for it!

Overheard:
‘What’s the difference between a Grand Slam and this?’
‘Grand Slams have more people attending’
‘Is it longer?’
‘No, just five days or so’.

As I said, Abi rang to ask me if I still wanted to go to the finals. We had a fabulous time- report tomorrow, as I said!

Mementos of the day:

That’s all for now folks- videos and Day 3 blog up tomorrow! Thank you all for reading!

I don’t have an edit function for my previous post on Day Two, so the videos will be posted here along with some comments/observations I was too knackered to be coherent about last night. Also, I suppose I can blame blundering the scorecard (I said he won 6-3, 6-2) on how tired I was- Rafa won 6-2, 6-3 (as I’m sure you all noticed and were much to nice to point out my blunder) and not 6-3, 6-2 as I said.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwgStxluIm8

Blurry!Rafa serving for the fifth game (I think it was) of the first set. He was serving well, Niko’s returns weren’t exactly great. What was interesting about watching Rafa and Davydenko play each other; was the difference in personalities. I don’t just say this as a strong Rafa fan- but Davy was just a little too boring, too textbook and he did pale in comparison to Rafa. There was hardly any excitement from Davydenko’s end- he plays well, hits some beautiful shots, he’s extremely consistent, his strategy-usually-is clever (but didn’t work against Rafa that day!), the angles he hits are excellent and can be extremely tricky to play…but it’s also so meh. It’s all rather controlled. Not that it’s a bad thing or anything- Rafa has incredible control and discipline..but you can feel the fire simmering beneath the surface even when he’s all business! Davydenko though..couldn’t feel the fire, the passion or the yearning to win. While it might’ve been an exhibition- they weren’t playing like it was one. I don’t think Rafa knows how not to care about a match. That’s not to say Denks doesn’t care- he did and it showed. It just wasn’t anything to write home about. I must say though, Davydenko seems like an awfully nice man. Despite the whole match fixing controversy last year, he’s gone about doing his own thing; his own way and he’s done well for it. He’s stayed in the top 10, made it to the year-end TMC final and that takes incredible mental fortitude. Good on him for keeping his focus on the game- a lesser man might’ve crumbled under all the pressure.

Rafa and Hawkeye:
1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SliAAhCE5c4 Out
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrCt8zSNq74 In

Sorry it’s all wonky, I don’t know how to fix that- anybody?
I’m surprised Hawkeye was even in place- it’s an exho! But that’s pretty cool, adds to the excitement and pumps the crowd up a fair bit. It also lends credence to the idea that it’ll probably lobby to become a tournament. They need more courts though- many more. For the record: I’m all for Hawkeye. Technology is here, may as well use it. While I enjoy the sometimes heated and sometimes amusing repartee between the player and the umpire, Hawkeye; I think, makes the game a little more accurate. Sure, the drama and the tragedy of the human aspect of tennis appeals to me- our human fallibilities playing out like something Aristotle wrote about: the rise, the fall, the redemption….oh, the drama! It’s all fun and it’s all good- but it doesn’t do much for competitiveness. Professional tennis has raised the bar in terms of competition and yes, in terms of professionalism. There’s hardly any room for error. The quest for perfection has it’s own inherent drama and tragedy- so I’m all set. Go forth and bring me perfection.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUE1p9hg1mE

End of the first set. Some grunting (for you Linda!) somewhat eaten by the wind.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBx_H-CshCw

Rafa talking to Shakira while Davydenko is being interviewed. Hmm.
Wasn’t she engaged to a politician or someone to do with politics? I’m not worried. Not really. I’m definitely jealous though. Her hips do lie. Attitudette and I have come to the conclusion that it’s not just Laundry Service.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrnEPs0MRjE
Sorry about my ear-splitting screaming.
Rafa’s post-match on-court interview. ‘careera‘

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hko9Y_owJ-w
Rafa chucking the balls into the crowd. Sorry about losing focus- I forgot I was filming and just sort of flipped my head around. Also, the last ‘Hey Rafa!’ was the prelude to my last, ‘Get rid of the sleeves!’ for the day.

That’s all for now! Final recap in a bit
Thanks for reading, for your feedback and for your encouragement! xox

Read my DAY THREE adventure here.