The Deuce Club, 2.6

By Jackie, TW Social Director

Happy Friday, TWibe! If you haven't already figured it out, this is our brand new timeslot for the Deuce Club. Thanks for the feedback on time preferences; it seems this works well for just about everyone and will hopefully serve as a fun lead-in to the weekend. If you have any thoughts regarding this or anything else DC-related, please feel free to contact me at my Tennis.come-mail.

Some of us are still basking (or burning!) in the afterglow of the Australian Open, while others of us are already up in arms about the events taking place in Zagreb ("Who's this Dodig character and why is he killing my faves?!"). Me, I'm somewhere in the middle. I think we've sufficiently hashed out the most salient issues coming out of the AO and I'm ready to move on. After all, it's only February - still lots more tennis to be played. At the same time, I can't stop flashing back to that darn trophy ceremony ... it's haunting me!

No matter where you stand, I'm sure you'll agree that the following poem perfectly encapsulates your AO experience. It's written by our magnificent TW Poet Laureate, Mme Highpockets, and as always, she does us all proud with her latest effort:

MEN IN OZ

Melbourne's Grand Slam is a welcoming sight
To tennis fans hungry for summer and light.
It's a place full of fun, a land of no worries,
Of seagulls and moths and tennis ball flurries.

Here the season begins and the players are rested;
New talent emerges—the old guard is tested.
The tension will build as the sun bakes the court,
And the Aussies will chant and sing their support..

The sun down in Oz can be blistering, cruel,
And only the fittest survive and stay cool.
Some guys lose their focus and some leave in tears,
And this was the hottest in one hundred years.

At the start of this tournament, Murray was favored,
Since the Summer of '08, his form hadn't wavered.
When we got to the quarters, all the top seeds were there,
But Murray lost early to "the guy with the hair.."

The "guy with the hair", Fernando Verdasco,
Was hotter than fire or sun or Tabasco.
With a Davis Cup victory, his confidence rose,
And he was determined to beat all his foes.

The mens' game is deep and that is a fact,
And Tsonga and Cilic are part of the pack.
Simon and Del Potro are in the top ten,
But Novak needs something to tune up his zen.

In the semis, Verdasco came out with guns blazing,
Taking Rafa to five sets—his forehand amazing.
Roddick, in great shape, gave us hope in the States,
And we now had our final—the two current greats..

Nadal was just brilliant and seemed very fit;
He was no longer sleeveless, but his kit was a hit.
We saw Roger improve as he moved through his draw;
And all we could do was observe him in awe.

The pressure on Roger was very intense;
He was gunning for Sampras—his goal was immense..
For Rafa, this trophy would keep him on top,
And would put him up there with the cream of the crop.

Their match was ablaze with glorious shots,
But also was scratchy and careless in spots.
Fed disappeared, to his own great chagrin,
And Rafa just said, "I came out here to win."

In the end, Roger cried and lost his composure,
And Nadal felt his pain in that public enclosure.
And there amid shock and sadness for Federer
Stood the stark fact that Rafa's getting better and betterer.

Just delicious, no? Brava to Mme Highpockets for sharing her great talent with us once again!

Which reminds me ...

Several weeks ago, Pete and I mentioned having a contest to crown our next TW Poet Laureate, but it managed to slip through the cracks amidst all the hubbub surrounding the start of the '09 tennis season. Rest assured that the contest hasn't been forgotten, and we plan to follow up on it in the coming weeks.

In fact, we're starting right now! Pete's idea for the contest is to have you rework an existing poem to have a tennis theme. Problem is, we can't decide on the poem, so we'd love some suggestions. Please share your ideas in the comments below, and Pete and I will sort through them and let you know which one we decide to run with. Thanks for your help!

I spent some time thinking about what poem I would choose for the contest, and surprisingly, none of them were by Rilke, who I used to call my favorite writer. (Or maybe still do? Recall the DC when Pete first introduced me as your Social Director; he wrote, "Although she says she doesn't read nearly as much as she ought (of course, there's no books-per-week quota for our Social Director), she likes Rilke (I think he's the guy who wrote Fabio Fognini: The Early Years)." Ha!)

Though Rilke is known for his poetry, it was after reading his most renowned prose work Letters to a Young Poet that I became a fan. When I first read it, I remember feeling like Rilke's letters were meant for me, not the "young poet" Franz Kappus. I almost couldn't believe how this little book was able to move me ... make me view life in a different light. I suppose that's what great works of art do.

I haven't paged through it in some time, but I can still recall some of the more resonant passages - in fact, they've almost become what I like to call "mini-mantras." Here's an example of one such passage. He writes:

You must not be frightened [if] a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall.

(Hard to believe he was only in his twenties when he wrote that!) After reading the book, I explored more of Rilke's works, especially his poetry, and came to admire them to the same degree.

Really, though, I'm not a reader. For too long, my reading material consisted of studies in social science academic journals, so I never had the time (nor the energy) to take up recreational reading. Not to mention, I came to perceive reading as a huge chore because it was synonymous with schoolwork, so whenever I had any free time, the last thing I wanted to do was, blech, read! In recent years, I've become better at exercising my reading muscles, sinking my teeth into mostly nonfiction pieces - but not enough to call it a hobby.

I wish this weren't the case, of course. I know I'm capable of appreciating literature - my experience with Letters to a Young Poet is a sure testament to that! - so it's a shame that I haven't given myself much of an opportunity to do so. Fortunately, one is never too old to pick up reading (unlike tennis!), so I'm hoping I can turn this bad habit around.

Judging from the "What book are you reading?" discussion topic in our TennisWorld > Real World Facebook group, it looks like many of you are avid readers, unlike me. I'd love to hear what types of writing you enjoy, what your favorite works are, and which authors you take a shine to. Prose or poetry? The Brothers Karamazov or Harry Potter? Shel Silverstein or Shakespeare? Dig in, and don't forget to share your poem ideas for the contest, as well!