By Jackie, TW Social Director
What an interesting week it's been, eh? Tennis surprises galore, both on and off the court.
On court: If your Monte Carlo bracket isn't a shambles, surely that can only be attributed to your strategy of picking players by way of "eeny, meeny, miny, moe." (And if there were a Charleston one, I'd say the same!) Speaking of which, I don't participate in the bracket madness, but it seems to be all the rage among many of you. Feel free to use the Deuce Clubs for tennis bracketology discussions, going forward.
Off court: Perhaps some of you have heard about the Roger/Mirka wedding. I suppose that isn't really a "surprise," given how long they've been an item ... but then again, maybe that renders it even more so!
Last week, we celebrated Lurker Amnesty Day, and boy, was that a good time! I actually didn't expect many lurkers to show, so the fabulous turnout had me beaming from ear to ear. It was a pleasure to meet these folks, who are just as much a part of the TW community as the regular posters. Several of the lurkers admitted that they choose not to post because they're self-conscious about interrupting the flow of a discussion or regurgitating a popular opinion. I completely understand this sentiment, but lurkers, remember that a fresh voice/perspective is always appreciated. Hope you stop by again soon!
I had long wanted to write a DC post about tennis dreams - it's been on my list of topics for months - but more timely issues kept creeping up, pushing that idea aside. Then, just this week, two TWibers sent me e-mails about their tennis dreams! If that's not a sign that it's this topic's time to shine, then I don't know what is.
I'm not embarrassed to admit that tennis players and tennis-related scenarios have popped up in my dreams on more than one occasion. When I'm awake, tennis is never far from my thoughts, so why should things be any different when I'm asleep? TW is responsible for much of it, I'm sure, as I spend countless hours a day lurking or posting. Tennis is always "there," camping out in my head.
It could have something to do with immediacy, too. Depending on where tournaments are taking place, I might find myself either falling asleep to tennis (or following it, rather - I dare not let sleep interfere with my tennis-viewing experience) or falling asleep to the thought of waking up to tennis! How could itnot permeate my subconscious and manifest itself in dream form?
!Fedal One of my first tennis dreams took place early last year; naturally, it involved Roger and Rafa. (It was almost a harbinger of their epic Wimbledon encounter.) In the dream, they were in the midst of a grueling match. Both looked ragged and weary. Both had tumbled to the ground multiple times. It was as if they were fighting to the death. Suddenly, Roger dropped his racquet and wailed about his hand being in immense pain. He couldn't grip his racquet any longer and looked like he was seconds away from passing out.
Then, I awoke. In a sweat, probably. Looking back on that, I chuckle to myself; of all the injuries that are likely to result from a marathon tennis match, hand fatigue probably isn't at the top of the list.
During this year's Australian Open, I had a couple of wild tennis dreams. They'd come about in the wee early morning hours - post-watching tennis, pre-getting up for work. I shared them right here on TW, and the responses were hilarious, ranging from "Jackie, you have the most vivid dreams, what do you drink before you go to bed?" (beth) to "Jackie stay calm, some nice men with some pills and a lovely white jacket will be there for you shortly" (naughty t, who else!). I figured they provided decent entertainment at the time, so why not reproduce them here, right? If you're reading this for the second time, thanks for humoring me.
Dream: Jackie vs. Roger*
[Note: In real life, Roger had just defeated Andy R. in the AO semifinals.]
The Roger/Andy match ended and I realized I was now in the AO final vs. Roger (don't ask me how I not only became a player but also magically made it to the men's final). Roger and I were trying to find a court to practice on (because you always practice with your opponent, right?). Before the hitting, though, I chatted with Andy, who was also hanging out by the courts. He was smiling, albeit bemoaning his performance. "Ugh, I played like sh*t," he said. I responded, "Don't say that, Andy. Remember that you lost to the greatest player ever - at least it wasn't Tipsy or Kohli." [Note: That didn't offend anyone, I hope?!] He felt better after that.
Then when it hit me that I'd be facing Roger in freakin' Rod Laver Arena, I started flipping out. In front of him, I yelled, "I'm gonna lose 2-2-1!!!" To which Roger replied, "Jackie, don't say that. When I told Mirka you were my opponent, she was so happy for you." Aw.
We then practiced together, and I was thrilled to be holding my own! However, we soon lost our court and had to find another space to practice ... and I was under the impression we'd do this together. But Roger went and found his own space without me. Before I even thought to get offended, I realized, "Uhhh, he still wants to win this thing - why should he care if I practice or not?"
End dream.*
It's hard to single out the goofiest part of that dream, but I'll go with the notion that I could manage five games against Roger. Even five points is a stretch.
Dream: Stars Misaligned*
!GaelGilles I'm at the hotel where the players are staying, and I see Gael and Gilles. I saunter over to them, casually, hoping to procure a photo with Gilles. Once I'm there, Gael immediately starts flirting with me. So I play along, but obviously I want Gilles's attention. Lucky for me, Gilles then squeezes himself in between us and goes, "Hey, she's with me." [Note: This is where the expression "In your dreams" comes from.]
Of course, I'm happy ... but then I realize I'm wearing this hideous red hat and look a royal mess, so I don't want us to take a photo just yet. (But internally, I'm torn because what if I never see him again? Then I just missed out on my only photo opportunity!)
Then, there's a scene change. We're in a cafeteria-type place (or maybe it's the hotel restaurant), and Gilles is now sitting at a table with some of his compatriots ... and Verdasco (huh?). The room is silent, though, because everyone is staring at the TV, entranced by the European Figure Skating Championships (huh? again). I go to the buffet to get food, then realize there's nothing vegetarian - but not before mistaking prawns for baked potatoes. I'm crestfallen (and hungry). My condition is exacerbated by the whole Gilles situation; do I just go over to him or do I keep my distance? Whatever you do, play it cool, Jackie.
Just as I work up the nerve to go to his table, an announcement is made over some intercom that a dance competition is scheduled, where the tennis players are randomly paired up with other visitors in the hotel. My name isn't called and I just see everyone scatter to practice wherever there's an open space. No chance to talk to Gilles.
Yet another missed opportunity.*
End dream.
I don't think we need Freud to figure out the meaning of that one.
Anyway, I'm not crazy, I promise y'all.
But I'll be darned if I'm the only one making a fool out of myself today. Now it's time for you to share your own wacky tennis dreams! I know gauloises, for one, has her fair share ... and some of hers make mine look positively humdrum.
If you happen to be one of the saner TWibers and have yet to dream about tennis, tell us about any tennis fantasies you've had (ever visualized your favorite giving you a Mirka-sized rock?). Or what you'd want to dream about, tennis-wise, if you had control over such things.
Have a great weekend!