And A Word For the Sponsors

So Nadal beat Kiefer. No surprise, although I thought Kiefer acquitted himself admirably.

The main thing I took away from the final is that Nike needs to rethink Nadal's signature look, which consists of a headband, long-ish white shorts and a sleeveless shirt in an eye-catching colour (purple for this tournament). The problem is that he has to retrieve his shorts out of his bum before every serve. It's unnerving to observe and I can't imagine the semi-permanent wedgie is doing his game any good. He'd probably be number one already if he had looser shorts.

Then again, it's possible Federer has been messing with Nadal's kit when he's off running victory windsprints and leaping into the stands to kiss royalty.

Call of the Tennis Player

I have now watched four matches at the Rogers Cup. I have experienced mild heatstroke, torrential rains, and the sharp elbows of tennis ladies in the washroom facilities. I have also come to learn a few things.

1. Tennis fans.
These fans are generally better dressed and cleaner cut than many other types of sports fans. I think it's safe to say I was the only one wearing a Metallica T-shirt yesterday. Our cousin Jess was probably the only one in a $1 white cowboy hat and large silver belt buckle, complete with bucking bronc.

However, tennis fans are still prone to saying dumb, fan things.

Sample from last night's match between pale, skinny Scotsman Andy Murray and bronzed Spaniard god Rafael Nadal.

Rafa fans:
RAFA! RAFA!

Plus various Spanish slogans that I couldn't understand.

Andy fans:
Focus Andy!

We're here for you Andy!

Don't give up Andy!

As you might expect, Rafa's fans were better able to get chants started. I tried and failed to think of what exactly would work with "We're here for you Andy."

Also, the umpire (if that's the name of the guy who sits in the high chair in the middle of the court) had a shaky grasp of English. So when he tried to get Rafa's fans to stop chanting during Andy's serves (presumably so Andy's fans could yell self-esteem boosting slogans) he admonished them in a foreign language. Which they didn't understand and ignored. I could be wrong. Maybe he wasn't telling them to shut up. Maybe he was chiming in with his own chant.

During matches, tennis fans also like to shout non-sequiters, such as "Federer!" (who, as noted earlier, was not playing.) I got the impression that this was their big opportunity to tell a joke that people would have to listen to.

2. Tennis Players
The difference between an older player and a younger one is astounding. The young ones (except Nadal) are, as P.G. would say, thin as razor clams. The older ones look twice as wide. The young ones seem to wilt after a few sets, probably because it's tiring to be 6 feet, 3 inches and seventy two pounds. The older ones are held together by tape.

Today we're going to see the final with Nadal and Kiefer. Kiefer is thirty one, which I'm told is about sixty-five in tennis years. He's German and extremely firm with the ball boys and girls. One had the temerity to leave a towel draped outside the towel box and Keifer gave the kid the Teutonic Stink Eye until he put it back in place. In fact, Kiefer won't serve until serve until his ball boy or girl is locked in position.

Keifer sports an impressive array of tape down his legs and I thought I saw some straps and pulleys keeping his back together. His ability to tame children and his cagey silver fox play make him my underdog favourite.

Tennis is a tiny bastion of well-behaved kids who race to do adults' bidding and I think Keifer may be the reason. Credit where credit is due.

The other thing about tennis players is that their international-ness is evident even in their grunting styles.

When they get into it, they emit a loud noise each time they hit the ball. In the case of French player, Gilles Simon, the noise seemed to be a "Oui", which made him sound like a man being repeatedly winded by very bad news. Nadal goes for more of a primal grunt. I'm not sure Kiefer says anything, but he may have tape on his lungs. When things are going well they pump their fists. When things are looking grim they stare closely at their rackets as though wondering what went wrong.

Finally, the screen shots used for the big screen makes the players look like kids who've been busted for smoking pot in their Pacer out back of the 7-11. How many other athletes can say that?

Dear Roger,

A word about your performance last night. The one in which you were eliminated in the FIRST ROUND.

At risk of sounding churlish, you owe us airfare and accommodation.

See, we are heading to the ROGER'S Cup to see you. We are still in BC and you are presumably winging your way back to Switzerland. This seems almost like a breach of contract. The contract in which you, the best player the world has ever seen, can be counted on to last until at least the quarter finals. We were not asking for another superhuman performance such as the one against Nadal at Wimbledon. We just wanted to watch you play some classy tennis.

I am fickle, so I'm moving my loyalties Djokovich until you get your mojo back. But my brother Scott cannot be consoled.

We will accept personal cheques and your assurances that next time we fly across the country to see you play you will do exactly that.

It's not called the Roger's Cup for nothing. I'm just saying.

Sincerely,

Susan

I'm back...

after an interesting workshop in Prince Rupert, where a I met Victor, a young writer and budding hiphop star, and a terrific class full of fascinating people at UBC. Next up: the Roger's Cup in Toronto. That's right. My brother Scott and I are going to see Federer and Nadal LIVE! My editor, Lynne, just sent me a very tricky question: Federer or Nadal?

I'm still thinking about it. During Wimbledon I was rooting for Federer. Now, having seen photos of Nadal lounging around on a yacht and being so entirely gracious (take heed Williams sisters!) about his victory, I'm torn.

In other news, I am excited that Lauren Mechling's fabulous new book, Dream Girls, came out yesterday.

And finally, because I haven't quite gotten around to blogging about it, here is a photo of Tango and I after our last ride. Yes, that look you see on my face is pure, one hundred percent genuine relief.

Getting Ready for the Horse Show...

Three days to go.

1. Lapse into sullen silence. When husband asks what's wrong, complain that you can't find the excellent Dressage Today article on "How to Braid Like Anky" and that because of this setback, you may have to drop out of show.

When husband replies, "What's an Anky?" walk out of room and vow never to take another dressage lesson from him.

Worry that you won't be able to braid like Stephen Hawking if your fingers don't heal soon.

2. Realize that you haven't ridden in a ring with more than two other horses for twenty years. What is that rule about passing during warm-up? Left to left? What does that mean, anyway? Spend twenty minutes thinking of horrifying dressage pile-up that may ensue as a result of your inability to tell left from right.

3. Retreat to bed with pizza and book about mixed martial arts competitions, which sounds quite a bit less stressful and dangerous than dressage shows.

Getting Ready for the Horse Show...

Four days before show.

1. Ride test several times. Realize that success will probably come from something other than the riding. Begin to wrack brain for ways to earn extra points.

2. Note that mandolin vegetable cutter injuries are quite painful and definitely impeding performance.

3. Wonder when judge is coming to town. Wonder if there's some way to show severely sliced fingers to judge. Would it be possible to quickly take off gloves before or after salute, slip off band-aids, and wave digits around? Or would it be better to hang around airport complaining loudly about fingers when judge arrives. Provided judge arrives by plane. Would be a bit worried about the judge who arrived via bus. Not to be snobbish or anything.

4. Help husband clean deck. Accidentally run hair-first into single peony flower on potted peony bush. Realize peonies are extraordinarily sticky plants and hair is now glued into large stick of unmanageability. Wonder if this could have an effect on ride.

5. Run to store before it closes and buy a second bottle of Show Sheen. Consider putting some in own hair to help with peony residue.

6. Check fingers for infection. Wonder if there are small but perceptible red lines running up arm. This would indicate that I might die before show, similar to Victorian ladies during childbirth. Well, maybe not exactly like that. But infection would be involved. Think that premature death due to finger infection might be a decent option. Admit that would rather go to show than give birth. Feel that some sort of perspective has been renewed.

7. Wish horse could speak English so could bribe him and explain about my fingers.

Getting Ready for the Horse Show...

Five Days Until Show

1. Start telling people who will listen how nervous you are and how it's been twenty years since your last horse show. That way, when you get stanky scores, you can say, "Oh, I was so nervous! Normally we kick ass. Like when I'm riding alone."

2. Buy a lot of product to make your horse shiny so as to distract the judge from any mistakes you might make. Hope that if you apply enough Show Sheen, the judge might actually be blinded by the gleam emanating from your horse.

3. Worry that you will forget your dressage test. Then tell yourself that if you forget, you will get eliminated and the test will be over sooner. Which could be a good thing.

4. Ride the test a few times in a ring with no letters, just to confuse yourself further.

5. Book extra lessons. Ask your husband, who has never ridden a horse except for that one time when he was eight, to give you a lesson. Listen carefully to everything he has to say, such as "Good! Good! Now do some of the faster one where his legs go all funny."

6. Purchase a mandolin vegetable chopping device from Winners on a whim. While making stir fry seriously cut not one, not two, but three of your fingers. All of which you will need to ride in the horse show. Bandage them so excessively that you can no longer get your riding gloves on.

For more of my admittedly terrific horse advice, check out the Canadian Horse Journal, where my advice column is running.