Mornin'. I don't know how it is where you are at this moment, but here at the farm in game-rich Andes it's a regular Rocky Mountain morning - the air is so sharp and cool you'd think it was distilled from an icy, clear mountain brook. And it's bright, with a warm sun, as well.
As I scanned yesterday's results, I recalled how, a couple of years ago, David Nalbandian was on a roll. At the time, he was wearing yellow-and-black, and looking a mite. . . portly. . . stimulating some wag to observe that he looked vaguely like a school bus (I pulled the old photo on the right, in which David looks kind of goofy, but also a tad magisterial).
Well guess what? The next stop for the bus (I sure hope Jerome Bettis doesn't decide to sue for copyright infringement) is the Legg Mason Tennis Classic (Washington) final, where Nalbandian will try to run over another resurgent talent, Marcos Baghdatis. Rarely do you get such an intriguing, promising, but thoroughly unexpected final. It will sure beat watching some poor stiff get clubbed by Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal. . .
And rarely do you get such a great example of the genius behind nothing-for-granted, single-elimination, draw-based tennis.
No. 117 David Nalbandian vs. No. 25 Marcos Baghdatis. Who among you looked at the draw and penciled them in to meet today? I'm guessing that these two fellas are going to produce a whale of a match. I'll have more to say about all this, as well as the Copenhagen final (where Caroline Wozniacki is fighting tooth and claw to win the equivalent of her home-town tournament) in my post tomorrow morning.
Right now, though, I've got to get the kids ready for church and an afternoon of swimming. Maybe we'll make a fire and roast hot dogs by the pond.