Court de Cowardice

I am rarely so fretful and spooked out. No scenario is so edgy and flustering with jitters, than a Roland Garros Final of Federer and Nadal. God, am I so scared stiff to see Federer lose. I can't stand it. My folks are doing much better, whenever the channel is switched to the match, I perform a depleted walk-out. Every serve, every volley, Nadal is etching his way past, almost being a progenor of history. I don't know what will the match lead to, but I just cant stand to see Federer fall. Nadal's winning streak on clay, already in a league of its own, is piquing Federer and this ardent fan, like millions across the world. Its posing a daunting question, when will the tables turn? When will the reality be in accordance to the facts? The immaculate shot-making which is on a flamboyant display across all surfaces, seems to be tattered and rickety. C'mon Federer! I have a dinner bet on you. Anyways I wont have to nerves to swallow something after the unbearable happens. Come on grass if you wanna feel a child of a lesser god. You are a Hewitt or a Roddick, you are sure to be perfunctorily dispatched in three sets straight. There an ATP rank loses meaning. In a pragmatist's book, Federer ranks No. 1, and there is none from 2 to 100. Yes, a 6-4 is considered exceptional, yours being the latter figure. But this impasse on clay... I am heaving, out of breath. Federer has suvived such scares of overnight successes raising their flaccid heads once in a while. Nadal is much better I know, but all this seems to carry on just a bit too uncomfortably long. There is no one I'd look up more to in this world, Roger Federer is a luminary to reckon with, my God. Not just in his field, but as a prodigy, inspiring as a mind boggling consistent success at 24. I want to be reborn atleast as a fraction of him.

I watched his archived matches. Right from 1999, when a confident 19 year old under-17 Wimbledon champion flabbergasts the world ending the 6 title array of the indomitable Sampras, commiting his ouster. And the world has never recovered since from the realtively staid, infallible god of the serve and volley, who maintains an unemotional stupor through a tournament, and falls to his knees, tears of contentment develop as he aces Roddick for the Wimbledon 2005, the scene is still alive in my mind. He talks through the latex strings, enveloping the world to its beat and rasps harder than a yelling and irant Hewitt. Federer just missed a drop shot, not even making an effort to reach out. Federer is two sets down, and its 5-5 fourth set. Things aint looking good.
And I pray Federer wins. Nadal, I'd love your energetic movement across the turf opposite any other dude, but that is tantamount to an insult to Federer. I as an astute supporter should, and ought to believe in Federer.

I may not be a court trotting hopeful, but I admire the sport through the mesh of the racquet, and on numerous occasions finding my self engrossed in the sport's intricacy. Be it Borg or Connors, every shot across the net, and my neck is oscillating up and down.
Tennis.
Game Set Match.