I was surprise-gifted with tickets to the US Open this weekend and it was excellent. Well, to tell you the truth the men's semis yesterday took place under a ferocious sun so the experience was more draining and distracting than excellent (it also left me with the most desperate tan I've ever seen on myself---or on anyone else, for that matter). But I'd be lying terribly if I said that I didn't enjoy seeing Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic play their ways to the finals. The conditions for tennis were nearly perfect by the time the women's finals got underway, but Justine Henin (the former Justine Henin-Hardenne--I used to love saying her name back when she was married. Alas.) trounced Svetlana Kuznetsova too promptly for us to really appreciate the weather.
Today was amazing though. I was joined by some of my favorite people--my brother, our friend Gloria, and my bff Roselle--and although the sun sizzled down on us for the duration of the women's doubles championships (Roselle and I were too busy giggling ourselves silly over the minor everyday absurdities that only the two of us seem to notice to care much about the women's doubles championships. The Taiwanese, I suspect, may have lost), we were blessed with clouds very soon thereafter. Unlike yesterday, when I was encumbered by my brand-spanking-new pair of bargain aviators (I can't bring myself to purchase---or accept gifts of---sunglasses over $10 ever since I lost the $300 pair my brothers bought me), the Nike visor I wore today allowed me to enjoy the sporting spectacle without any tinted misery (I mean, seriously folks, all that dimness is depressing!).
Federer didn't play his best but maintained his amazing calm and composure throughout the match. His style of play is so relaxed, smooth, and effortless. I was rooting for Djokovic, who put up a great fight but, ultimately, choked under the pressure of his first Grand Slam final. He's only 20-years-old (so, I was totally crushing on him when Roselle and I did the math and realized that he was born in 1987; that he was 4 in 1991, when we were 12; and that he was 15-years-old only five years ago! Age, I suppose, is but a number). He'll be back.
It was good times.