I don’t believe it for a second.  I was egging our van driver to make the 7hour drive from El Nido last night to make it 5 so I can still watch the Wimbledon finals.  He complied by making it in 6.  But at 1am in the morning I was positive that there’s no more open bar that I can go to in Puerto Princesa to watch the match.  I had to make do with monitoring BBC’s coverage.  A painful thing to do as the first thing they reported was Nadal leading by 2 sets to love.

It was painful to even be thinking that Federer would be swept in 3 sets.  I was strangling an officemate in my mind for even predicting earlier that Roger would lose.  And alas he did.  But not in straight sets as I would find out the morning after.  Nadal had to dig very deep to put away Roger in 5 sets.

I knew Roger wouldn’t give up the Wimbledon title easily having gotten used to bringing home the trophy for the last 5 years.  But last night wasn’t his night.  A lot of forces were at work; history, youth, drama.  In the end, the small errors that Roger usually gets away with has accumulated and led to his loss on centercourt.

I tried watching the replay earlier, but knowing the outcome has somewhat tempered the otherwise compelling match.  Roger as always was gracious in defeat.  In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t get to watch the live action.  I don’t know if I’ll be as controlled as Roger was with his emotions.  If winning the title can make him cry, how would losing it affect him?

It’s a sad day for Roger Federer fans, but like the rest of his fans, I am still proud to be a card carrying Roger fanatic.

ooOoo

Let’s reclaim the title next year Rog.  Although Wimbledon is the grandest of tournaments, it’s not the be all and the end all.  There’s still the US Open and the Tennis Masters Cup to defend.  I hope your loss in your own stage brings back your primal hunger for winning and finish the year in a very high note.

Remember, you’re still the number one player in the world.  That alone is a reason for you to hold your head up.

I woke up at 5am Sunday morning. It’s around that time when the Typhoon Frank was at his fiercest. I was thankful that despite the inclement weather, I still have electricity. Cable, unfortunately, did not survive the onslaught. I was worried that my cable TV connection wouldn’t be restored by the time Wimbledon starts. Thankfully, my worry was unfounded.

It was an overcast sky that morning—angry even, as folks are wont to say. Dark clouds filled the heavens; gray enough to command attention, but not gray enough to convince me to go for the panic button. It’s my first dawn weekend in a long time and although the dawn looked ominous, it wasn’t vengeful. I’d even say it was full of sorrow. If anything, the dawn was crying; tears of rain, softly sobbing winds.

It must be difficult to be like Frank, i.e. being a natural disaster. People die because of you, even if you don’t mean anyone or anything harm. But you go ahead and do your thing anyway because it’s your nature. It’s your nature to be unapologetic. You ARE nature after all. Disaster and devastation are part of your repertoire. And certainties like the dawn or the morning are mere spectators standing powerless in the sidewalk, like pedestrians watching a parade. No wonder the dawn cries so.