by Until yesterday evening, the women’s tournament at Wimbledon had outshone the men’s in terms of captivating matches, Muguruza’s gripping three-set win over Kerber being a great example. Then Nadal ran into a 34-year-old lefty serve-volleyer from Luxembourg called Gilles Muller who was playing the match of his life. The level of play from both men throughout the fifth set was extremely high, as was the drama. I was so impressed with Muller who never wavered from his game plan, even after watching those match points literally fly by. If anyone thinks after watching that match that tennis should move to first-to-four-game sets and sudden death deuce, they need their head examined. (Linguistic hat on here: when I filled in Muller’s name on my drawsheet I gave his name an umlaut because, well, it always has one, doesn’t it? I mean, even Müller yoghurts have one. But now I’m not so sure.)
Kvitova and Nadal were my picks before the tournament; well so much for that.
I’ve now got a seventh student, a friend of one of my others, and we had our first lesson this morning. She just quit her job because, in her words, the environment was toxic. She was talking literally; she was in close contact with plastics and solvents with absolutely no protection. On Friday I’ll be giving her a mock interview.
My left sinuses are inflamed again. About time I went back to the doctor.
