In 2011, there were some
fascinating sight, and stories, and some other miscellaneous things happened in
the Court Phillippe Chatrier(after her German lesson, now that this
half-English and Russian young lady started to train her pronounciation in
French). The young lady spoke English and Russian at home, and learnt German at
school. She actually really wished to be able to speak to Federer himself after
the match... to salute him of his must be great work today, against Senor
Nadal, whatever the result would be later. We will call her That Young Half
English-Russian-Lady(TYHERL).
She had such a pair of
blue-sky eyes(now you must have known her family name already). And so young as
she was, there would be no excuse whatsoever to let her watch a match in such
crowd alone. We zoom at her surrounding. Okay, beside her sat another blonde
woman wearing a pair of black sunglasses, handed her a stick of pink cotton
candy. It must be her mother. On her left, chatting calmly towards a
brown-haired young boy who looked two years ahead of TYHERL, a dark-haired man
in his mid 30's---now that he was stroking TYHERL's head and kissed her cheek
amusedly. That should be his father--right?
Apart from the portray
of the happy English-and Russian family, the spirit of Roland Garros
transcended the souls of the Dual World. This is proved by the existence of,
among many other Dual Citizens who actually presented there, these two silently
arguing Woman and Man (we call them W and M)transparently drifting above
TYHERL's place.
W had been a huge fan of
Roger Federer since after 2002. She just really realized it by now the elegance
of the swan-like style he demonstrated on the court. She also watched his
newest Rolex commercials--- my, the fine gentleman should have regain his reborn
on this clay court--- she would be really sad to just know the fact that his
star would no longer shine...
under the atmosphere of
this young Nadal.
So W had a plan. She
would try to strike Nadal's arm at just the right moment... from far. She would
make it as though it was Nadal's error of lacking warm-up. Automatically her
hands were shaping such a move she would use to cast a spell at Nadal.
M held her hands.
M: You can not do this.
I won't let you...
W's face turned pink as
M read her tendency.
W: I'm sorry... Nadal
has been dominating so much I can see Federer is sinking...
She had some point
right. Amidst his loud yell, Nadal's shot had been really dangerous towards
Fed's court. Not only he forced Fed to run here and there at his whole area, even
from such a distance one can see how strong his strikes were compared to Fed's.
W saw a calm flowing water emerging from the flow of Fed's racket.
But from Nadal's... she
saw fire and thunder.
Nadal suddenly turned
into a combination of horse and dragon.
And he would just savour
the poise swan.
W: My bad, my Lord...
M held his arm around
W's shoulder.
W: It seems that Nadal
has really put his techniques into perfection... if you were Nadal, would you
know how to produce such a strike?
M: Look at those
strikes... the ball from Nadal's racket would hit the floor but it won't bounce
so smoothly. It becomes even faster afterwards. Now if you play ping pong...
W listened carefully.
M: You'll know how to...
W remembered that M has
told her once that if he played tennis, he would produce such as Nadal's
strike. He was born with Nadal's type of strike in every games with rackets and
balls.
The weather was humid in
Roland Garros and it rained once.
Why do we watch sport?
Because I can witness
such that Athos, Aramis, and Porthos come to life
TYHERL has never heard
anybody with such an opinion before.
It was her father. She
was really proud of her father.
In fact, the whole
family ticket to watch today's match, that Mommy had to book a year before, was
due to her birthday wish. She wanted to witness what her father felt, too. She
stood before Fed.
***
About 4 hours later, The
Marcha Real was played.
Another fascinated face,
but this time, Indonesian-shaped--- went asilenced to see The Spanish Champion
of this year's Roland Garros.
What does it feel to
stand on his shoes?
Up until now, in his 22
years of age, he wondered as what his nationality meant to him.
The clay of Roland
Garros was shining.
The crowds were all
cheering.
