What's your cup of T?

I am definitely no stud, but when my schedule and laziness-prone condition permit, I practice swimming one hour per session, at least two times a week. I can't describe the pleasure I get from training, yet, drinking the same black T (a pun nickname for the dark line painted at the bottom of a pool in every lane) can be very boring. So in order to keep my motivation up, I try to change facility as often as I can.

For sure, Geneva isn't exactly known its high-tech sport infrastructures or athletes but rather for the tax-free housing it provides to the latest. However, the city offers a good variety of venues easily accessible by bike, bus or car. Trouble is, most of the pools out there are either short-distance or only open in summer. And if you're an adept of 50-meter training like me, there isn't much choice when you live uptown and swim year-round, but to go to Le Centre Sportif des Vernets. Which is a bummer because, frankly, I never really liked the place.

That I consider Les Vernets to be a fugly piece of architecture isn't the reason. I also cannot complain about the fact it's a municipal swimming pool and therefore open to everyone. On the contrary. It's always refreshing to share the same space with elite swimmers, children, elderlies or people who believe they can go faster than you, simply because they are twice your height. The vicinity of others helps me stay awake, better myself and socialize.

Fostering a community life by counteracting segmenting or hierarchy between age, race, gender or physical capacity, is the number one purpose of municipal sport venues, after all. Unfortunately, municipal sport venues are a dying breed, as wrote American historian Jeff Wiltse in his excellent book and study, Contested Waters. And Les Vernets makes no exception. Despite local authorities' recent effort, the main indoor pool, the only 50-meter available, is still begging for in-depth renovation, extension, and yeah, the company of another pool. That seems unlikely to happen in a near future. Some blame it on the money politicians are refusing to give away. I'd say it's a problem deeper than that, which has to do with the evolution of society and its overall perception of public spaces.

As a result, I, we, all get to swim in a so-calledly Olympic-sized tub which cannot stand more than three out of eight lanes packed at a time, because it generates too much waves. And when I say waves, I mean seriously threatening waves, capable of making you drown and forcing you to stop halfway through. I know what you're about to say at this point. Why do I keep going to Les Vernets, knowing there are much better aquatic centers downtown? Answer would be, attachment. No lie, I literally grew up there as a swimmer. By experiencing my first baths as a toddler, by learning how to swim as kid, by taking my first class in a club as teenager. And that counts. Your first cup of T count and leave enduring memories, no matter how many of them you have to swallow in the present day. Fishes always return to their nests, don't they?


Les Vernets' main indoor pool, during Les Rencontres Genevoises in 2009 //© Hefty

Dinara Safina defeats Victoria Azarenka in 2009 French Open quarters : 1-6 6-4 6-2

Couldn't follow any RG match entirely today because of a busy schedule but managed to see Safina's last set against Belarus Azarenka. Dinara's serve today is the most beautiful I've seen in a long time on the women circuit. Funny because it so widely contrasts with her waddly grumpy grandma style. Seriously, that girl is a work of art. She just doesn't want to walk with her feet parallel and let her stiff hunched shoulders go down and relax, does she? ... That's her, two months ago, caught practising and doing her thing.

:O

Un petit message, vite fait, qui ne prétend ni ne veut rien, juste pour dire qu'un drôle de vent souffle sur le court central, décidement...

Rodg vient de l'emporter face à Tomi Haas. C'est comme si il avait joué contre lui deux matchs de suite. L'un perdu en deux tie-breaks, l'autre mené 6/4, 6/0, 6/2. Une pensée pour Tomi qui a visiblement perdu pied dans le troisième set, malgré sa belle première partie de rencontre. Le mérite revient toutefois à Rodg pour s'être engouffré dans une brèche comme il l'affirmera plus tard devant le micro de France 2 et Nelson Monfort.

A présent je ne pense qu'à une chose. Rodg est en quart dans un Roland Garros sans Rafa ni Djoko! Ouh la la. On se calme...

Un dernier mot pour conclure sur une note un peu plus studieuse.
Je ne sais pas pour vous mais pour moi, le temps des crocodiles semble révolu ou du moins plus tout à fait de saison. Je me souviens il y a dix ans que peu de gens misaient sur la réussite des spécialistes de surface rapide ou de dur sur la terre parisienne. Aujourd'hui quand j'observe Soderling, Monfils, Rodg et même Rafa qui est parvenu à se hisser jusqu'au sommet à Wimbledon l'an dernier, je me dis que tout est possible. Et que Agassi sera peut être un jour rejoint au Panthéon des détenteurs de Grand Chelem.

The knee strap was gone. So was his game...

I knew I wouldn't resist the temptation of reviewing a Roland Garros match this year. What I would never have thought though is that my first entry on this blog would be dedicated to Rafa. Yes, I have to admit it took me years to appreciate him and yet only a split second of a glimpse at him during a press conference interview, to fully understand that not only had I been ignoring pure racket genius but also a monster comedian talent. A comedian talent upon which I hope I am gonna dwell much longer in a future post. In the meantime...

... Sunday, May 30, 2009. My initial plan was not to watch TV but I eventually turned it on after lunch break, to find myself trapped in a match that was taking place on Philippe Chatrier. Let's say as an excuse that something called me, because something was happening there, obviously. It seemed on the paper like any other regular Rafael Nadal appearance on clay, expect that it wasn't. Swedish player Robin Soderling was indeed the one holding conversation and given their last meetings, he was certainly not up to any good and proved it by distillating some rather naughty shots.


Many might have noticed already that Soderling-Nadal is an implosive combination, which very often resumes off the court in interviews boxes.
When asked to explain the frequent friction between the two after their third-round encounter at Wimbledon two years ago, Rafa told the journalists Soderling had scant regard toward his opponents and ignored the number one rule of sportmanship, using the example from the match where he stumbled and fell on the ground, and where Soderling simply omitted to apologize or peek over the net to check if everything was alright. To which Soderling would reply he did not see why he would feel sorry for winning a point.

This is what a Soderling-Nadal show is about and today's episode at Roland Garros was just another sequel. With the result we all know. Rafa lost, for the first time in four consecutive years. I could describe how Soderling obstinantly cornered his opponent to knock on his weakened backhand. I could also elaborate on Uncle Toni's shrugging post-match comment, stating that his protégé was just starting to learn how to lose, but something else got all my attention. Nadal's white knee strap.Or should I say its absence, which had been discussed quite a lot since the beginning of the tournament and had me wondering as I watched him stagger and hop hesitantly on several occasions during the match. Maybe the removal of his long-time fetish was a little premature. Just like the spreading rumours of his however predictable decline...