I was not looking forward to Sunday. Another weekend – another blocked drain to fix. I was just getting into my dirty old jeans and smelly jumper when there was a knock at the door. J and the kids had gone off to church to pray for my soul (or whatever I have which pretends to be my inner being) and I knew that it could only be the neighbours and any knock at this time, (it was about 11am) usually means a problem or an invitation to go out to lunch. It was neither.
Tan had two tickets for the Monte Carlo Masters Tennis final that afternoon and as his little girl was recovering from an illness and Angie needed to stay with her, he wondered if J and I could use the tickets. Now J wasn’t due to get back from church until about 1.30pm, and as the final started at 2pm, it was not possible, so as men do, Tan and I decided to go.
A shave, shower and change of clothes in record time and we were off. It was now 11.43am and given the parking difficulties in Monaco I still thought it would be touch and go if we made it for the start. We needn’t have worried. We were in our seats at the Monte Carlo Beach Club watching the players warm up at precisely 1.50pm, which was not bad considering we stopped at the railway station en-route to establish if there was a train to Monaco (which there wasn’t), drove to another country (!), parked the car some distance from the venue and stopped to get some beers and sandwiches before sitting down.
On our way in, we’d passed the elite having their lunch by the side of the swimming pool but then spotted the even more prosperous Monte Carlo elite having their lunch overlooking the match itself. And then the crème de la crème. The Royal Box, complete with Prince Albert and his entourage.
The players were still warming up so it was people-watching time and the only place to look was the area around and under the Royal Box where the women, no doubt, dressed to try and capture the attention of the famously eligible Prince Albert. Gorgeous haute-couture dresses and wide brimmed hats were the order of the day whilst the men were all sporting their straw panama hats. Maybe some of the men also wanted to be spotted, given the rumours which have surrounded Prince Albert for years!
But back to the game itself. The last time I was at a tennis match, Pete Sampras was an up and coming youngster so that tells you how long it’s been since I saw two guys belting a small yellow ball at each other across a net. And I have to say when Rafael Nadal (No 1 in the world) and Novak Djokovic (No 3 in the world) started playing, my immediate reaction was that the game was nowhere near as fast in real life as it appears on TV. Nevertheless, the match was interesting despite the interminable base-line rallies and was quite well contested for the first two sets (one apiece). In the third set, Djokovic hit the top of the net for the umpteenth time. The ball jumped into the air, seemed to hover for an eternity and came down and hit the net again before falling, in what seemed like slow motion, onto his side of the court, whereupon he obviously lost the point. He raised his eyes to the heavens, pointed to the sky and made a rather sarcastic ‘thank-you’ gesture to whatever is up there. I thought at that moment he would be paid back – he was – he never won another game!
Of course, the tennis aficionados would point to Djokovic’s numerous unforced errors as the reason for his loss. My view? Anybody who wears bright, turquoise blue tennis shoes deserves to lose!
PS – I took a picture of the presentation with my phone but some guy with a white panama blocked my view. The one at the top was ‘borrowed’ from the Daily Telegraph.
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