Just like Mikey

Y'all know Highpockets (aka Madame 'Pockets), who's been a faithful reader and TennisWorld poet laureate, and how she likes to memorialize every Grand Slam event in a way that no commemorative DVD, special magazine or video (cue Chariots of Fire as we watch slo-mo images of our favorite players in action, etc. can hope to surpass. Here is her latest:

OH, MY!

Most thought it a sure thing—no thirst left to quench:
Taxes and death and Nadal at the French
Four years in a row and working on five,
The kid from Mallorca would eat them alive.

He’d hold up that trophy and Roger would cry,
And Federer’s fans would ask what went awry.
But something strange happened out there on the clay:
Rafa Nadal finally had a bad day.

And who was this person—this odd, skinny dude,
Who took down the Spaniard and darkened his mood?
Not Murray, not Novak, but Robin the Swede,
A spotty, but dangerous, twenty-third seed.

When Rafa left Paris, all eyes fixed on Fed.
Would he claim his prize - or crumble instead?
Would they crown him the GOAT, the greatest of all,
Or would Robin step up and answer the call?

For the last year or so, Roger’s aura had faded,
Eclipsed by Nadal, he often seemed jaded.
We witnessed his anger, we saw him in tears,
And we knew that his gifts would fade through the years.

But the umbrellas went up—rain pelted the clay,
And Roger stayed tough and put on a display
Of winners and volleys that showed off his art,
And gave us a glimpse of his courage and heart.

A champion’s nature is something so rare
That when it’s revealed, in awe, we just stare.
When the crowd rose as one to give him his glory,
Roger’s tears added joy to this wonderful story.

-- Highpockets

Ah, the poetess. . .

Anyway, in other bits: catching up today, and don't forget you can find me at Twitter, under my name (ptbodo), where I'll be posting news updates, links, and other brief messages on a regular basis. Still trying to get those of you who are following me at the **TennisWorld **Twitter feed to move to the ptbodo one.  .  .

In the next two days, I'll explain why I believe that Roger Federer's win at Roland Garros was a game-changer, not just for Federer, but for Rafael Nadal. On successive days, I'll look at the present situation for each man, starting with Roger tomorrow.

And also, I'm sure the rest of you also noticed how much Roger leaned on his drop shot - a shot that he had previously pooh-poohed, as if it were only  for cardigan-bedecked weenies or something. That made me think about how we used to mercilessly tease TW's spiritual adviser, Portugal's Miguel Seabra, who once told us: I have a forehand kind of like Federer's, but I also have a drop shot, which he does not. . .

Oh, we got a lot of mileage out of that, often noting that Federer, who hits his forehand much like Miguel Seabra, except that Federer doesn't have the drop shot. . .

Of course, Mikey is feeling pretty good abourt things now. We were kidding around about the debate the other day and he took me back to how it all started. In 2006, Mikey rather impertinently asked Roger if it was fair to say that the drop shot was the only weapon missing from his otherwise formidable arsenal.

Back then, Roger told Mikey he didn't need a drop shot, because he opened up the court so well with his forehand (in other places, Roger admitted that he thought the drop shot was a cop-out, almost a "panic shot" with which a player hoped to bring a point to a surprise ending). Mikey thinks that Roger changed his thinking on that score for a simple reason: Nadal.

This strikes me as plausible in a very basic, direct way, which also makes me wonder if Roger didn't change his mind about the drop shot during that ultimately otherwise fruitless workout session in Dubai with Darren Cahill - with a little help from that coaching candidate. Just something to think about.

I'll be back with a red-meat post tomorrow. . .

-- Pete