My tennis heroes ...

Day 2 and yep ... I'm still crying.

I'm still trawling my way through pictures and articles and have been a mess looking at the joy on all the family's faces ... and then I saw this.

I can say that I've only been a true "fan" of two players in the many years of enjoying tennis. Sure, I liked André, but John McEnroe was my first tennis hero and nothing replaced him ... until Rafa.

Back in the days of JMac, I was a teenager, so I suppose that some of my behaviour could be excusable ... you know, things like when he played a pre-Wimbledon tournament in Manchester at Didsbury Tennis Club, and me and my friends got on a bus to Manchester, then looked for another bus with "Didsbury" on the front, and asked the driver to help us and advise where we got off and where we would find the club. And we did find it. Amazing ... all this in the days before the internet :D

And when I was stood in the Club House at Didsbury, John walked past me ... and I was utterly star struck. Star struck!! I couldn't move, blink, never mind speak, and at 5'11", he didn't seem that tall, but he was ever so slender. And on another occasion, me and my friend boarded a National Express bus at midnight from my home town, and travelled through the night to London in order that we could join the queue at Wimbledon early in the morning to watch him play. And when we arrived in London (bearing in mind that I'd only ever been there once before!), we found there was a Tube strike, and we somehow had to get there via a bus. But being two Northern lasses, how did we know which bus to catch, from where and whether we would get there?  But we did. We managed it ... and to this day I have no idea how we did all that. I wouldn't say "boo" to a goose in those days either. :D

And one time I sent a letter to John, c/o Flushing Meadows, New York, just to wish him "good luck" for the US Open. Did I ever think it would get to him? ... of course I didn't. But it did, because in the post, I received a postcard from John McEnroe with his original signature on it. And I was also sent a black t-shirt which his signature name across it too. Amazing memories.

But when John faded away from the game, no-one ever really replaced him for me. No-one ever got my juices going like him; I couldn't get passionate or excited about the prospect of watching anyone else play, and I never fell over myself to rush home from anywhere so I could watch their match.

Until one June day, when after being turned off from the game I love for two years because of a certain R. Federer, whose style and personality did absolutely nothing for me except to reach for the "mute" and "off" buttons ... I happened to chance upon the semi-final of the French Open back in 2005. And there was this 19-year-old kid, wearing funny clothes, with flowing, dark locks and playing a kind of exciting, passionate tennis that I'd never seen before.

And I was hooked. And I have never looked back.

Age and opportunity has meant that the memories I have of watching Rafa, particularly live, obviously far out-weigh those I ever had when John was in his prime. But the feelings are just the same.

But I swear ... however good those feelings are, I am never, ever, evah supporting a tennis player like this ever, ever again. ;)

:D

Here's their charming on-court interview ...