Final time ... Let's make it Number 9

On a much colder and windy day in Monte Carlo, Rafa took on Jo-Wilfrid Tsonga in the semi-final of the Masters. I was a bit tense about this one, and found it difficult to get myself up for it. But in the first set, the JWT of old turned up ... meaning the one that seems to promise so much and yet fails to deliver when it really matters. But I didn't care, it's what I wanted.

Rafa got the first break in the first set, and it was enough to see him through. Then in the second set, he absolutely raced away to a 5-1 lead and stood to serve for the match. Phew, an easy match. Just what we wanted ...

Wrong.

Released from the mental anguish of playing Rafael Nadal on clay, at a tournament where he is the 8-time Champion, JWT brought that other side of him to the court, the one that some people like and rave about, the aggressive play, the big forehand, the serve-volley, two punch tennis. And the cockiness.

He broke Rafa at 5-1, and he saved match points on his own serve. Buoyed on by the crowd, he broke again, and again ... and the set was leveled 5-5. But where he was once free to play and gamble as he saw fit because all seemed lost, at 5-5 with Rafa serving, he saw himself right back in the set and the match, and that's when it started to all, well ... stop.

Rafa served an easy service game to take it to 6-5, and my memory is failing me now, but did he even have another match point on Tsonga's serve? Henyways ... to the tie break we went. And midway through, Rafa showed his class, some superb shot making and he won it 7-4.

He was happy about that, Mama and Papa hugged each other ... VAMOS!!

Did he play better than yesterday? Well, yes ... the UEs were significantly down, the service points won and the serve in general were better. But I just felt he was within himself ... agitated. And he needed those fine down-the-line forehand winners and the odd fabulous backhand return to spice himself up and pump himself into going for it.

And as if this wasn't on the cards all week, his opponent in tomorrow's final will be the Prince of Darkness himself ... Djokovic. He walked all over Fabio Fognini, who I largely found a total embarrassment; more concerned about just showing up and walking straight back out with the biggest single paycheck of his career and caring not a bloody jot about it. As for him ... well, he fist-pumped himself after nearly every single point, such was his desire to get to the final. You see, it's been a difficult week for the PoD. He's had to work hard every day seeking out the attention he so obviously craves with his "will he? won't he?" daily updates on that "dislocated" ankle of his, and sending out his team out to speak to the media to make sure that we're all "informed".

And yet all the while, he still has to sit back and watch Rafa being treated like a rock star at Monte Carlo, with huge crowds following him everywhere he goes, and the great support that is always for him there; and Djokovic has been put on as the final match of the day twice, when people have had enough and he doesn't get centre stage billing. He hates it, I believe. And I also believe that it's just not about winning this Masters title, it's more so about crushing Rafa, about toppling the "King of Clay", scoring the biggest coup in tennis on a court that Rafa could simply call his own. And he can't wait. He's a poor winner, ugly in victory, and I wish to the bottom of my soul that it isn't witnessed tomorrow.

Am I worried? Of course I am, and I have reason to be. But I hope all those girls out there, those who gather in their numbers every single year to support Rafa the loudest, well I hope they do their very best to scream, and shout, and let it all out. VAMOS IRRESPONSIBLY people!!! Let's cheer Rafa on to Number 9. VAM9S !!!