Wimbledon - Day 9

Another scorcher. Woke up and ran down to pick up my laundry. I didn't do a very good job of inventory prior to drop off, so I am certain I lost a pair of socks, though I cannot prove it. It doesn't really matter, but it annoys me when I get there and feel like something's been lost.

Play started early today, as the Juniors make their debut here at the All England Lawn and Tennis Centre (Wimbledon.) That is not normally a big deal, except for me. I have been "stalking" Kevin Botti for obvious reasons. Since none of the Web sites manage to have an official photo, I am going to post a couple here:





And, a shot of Kevin himself:




I will note that he and I have the same style, as he is not afraid to sport the 3/4 length men's trousers (affectionately known as manpris.) Unfortunately, he lost again in the first round, so it will be another year before we have a chance to see my surname listed as a champion at Wimbledon. Bummer for the Botti family.

Lunch was a really tasty chicken, bacon, and mozerella pannini. I didn't have anything with it, though I do have my macadamias here to snack on, so it didn't matter.

I felt bad for the England team. They lost on penalty kicks. That's got to be the hardest way to lose a soccer match I know. Especially since they played all of the second half and both overtime sessions with a player out for red card. I still think that guy just put his balls under Rooney's foot, and a red card was hardly deserved.

It was disappointing to see Agassi bow out. I know it was a daunting task, as Nadal is a start on the rise, but still it would have been nice if he had survived into the second week. He is the king, arguably, and has had epic matches against players from a couple of generations, and ranks among the greats in history in my mind. I guess I'll now root for Lleyton Hewitt, or perhaps Baghdatis. I'll find some underdog, though I actually don't think anyone can beat Federer.

We avoided the Rose and Crown yet again and headed to the King's Head near the hotel again. This time, we got there just in time to have missed a potential bar brawl, though the details still escape me. I found a table while BJ and Judy got the drinks. As I sat down, a very, very drunk woman leaned over and implored me to explain to her why if she wanted to buy something, had the money, and had offered it to the bartender, she should not be allowed to purchase it. Let me back up a bit and say that the King's Head has artwork on the walls that is from local artists. She apparently had found a painting at 45 GBP she wanted to purchase. She had offered the bartender 50 GBP in notes and pointed to the picture, but he informed her that the proprietor had to be present to complete the sale. This apparently started a tempest in the pub, and we got there for the very end of it. Her last comment as she stalked out the door with her similarly drunk partner that the next time she was in the pub she would trash the place. I thought nothing of it, execpt to ponder what I had done to make these two sots believe that I would be approachable. Not 5 minutes later, however, a cadre of police appeared and started questioning patrons. Fortunately, I avoided that. I did, however, find it funny as I listened to one of the interviewees tell what she saw. Now, she was a short woman, and the drunk rowdy woman was taller, but she actually told the police that the woman was roughly the height of her boyfriend. He turned around and said he was 6 feet 4 inches tall. Now, the drunk woman might have been as tall as 5'9", but I cannot honestly say she was taller than that. If she had really been that tall, I am sure the police could have found her easily, as 6 foot tall drunk women wouldn't be that hard to spot. :-)

So, the pub again closed at 11. That meant we had to move on, and BJ chose this as his chance to head back to the hotel. Judy and I went to Croutchfield's, another free house near the tube station, and ordered a pint. This time, our drunk "companion" was some 50-ish man who decided I looked like someone he wanted to talk to. If any of my readers has any clue at all as to what my face says that gives these people the impression that I am willing to talk to them, let me know so I can get it fixed. LOL. Worst of all, he apparently had family in Ocean Isle, NC, so when he found out were were from NC (I tried to just say "the states" but his response was "I know more about the states than most Americans" so I relented and offered we were from Raleigh, NC) he decided we must be mates at some level, and proceeded to tell us how his 1st (OF 4) wives had moved to somewhere in South Dakota and after her second divorce, had moved his children to Ocean Isle and his daughter was still there raising her family, as she had married an American and chose to stay. It droned and rambled, and those were the only pertintent details I was able to remember.

Surprisingly, I got a call from BJ. I had thought perhaps a problem, as last we knew he was going to bed. It turned out that Sacha Gibson from IBM Australia had arrived and was staying at the Mariott as well (I can only thank Sandy Berman for that coincidence, as I don't know what would have motivated her to make that choice other than Sandy.) So, we finished up our pints (chugging Guinness is not easy) and headed to the lobby bar. I switched to Jameson and soda (tasty, but a bad idea that late at night) and we had a couple of rounds at the hotel bar. Got upstairs, spoke to Colleen (missing her is so strong now it is almost a physical ache) and literally passed out, waking up about 3 to discover that the damned hotel air conditioning was not behaving. So, I sweltered for a bit, at least knowing that I had off for middle Sunday, Day 10.

Cheers!