“It’s like when you go home and your mum does everything for you and you feel comfortable. I felt like this, but with a lot of adrenaline.”
Italian Francesca Schiavone describing her love affair with Court Philippe Chatrier.
What she really meant:
“Whoosh! Comfortable with high-octane rocket fuel. That’s me on court.”
What she definitely didn’t:
“I have to do nothing out there.”
What she said:
“It’s tough. It was an opponent who I had never seen before. Also, I asked many players for information, but got back zero. Nobody knew what this player looked like. So at the beginning of the match, I was a little bit surprised.”
Chinese women’s tennis player,Li Na, talking about her second round opponent, Silvia Soler-Espinosa.
What she really meant:
“Who is Silvia Soler-Espinosa? Tell me, please.”
What she definitely didn’t:
“Silvia Soler-Espinosa? We’re going shopping together after our second-round match.”
Maria Sharapova clarifies that she dreams in her native tongue but thinks mostly in the world’s premier lingua franca.
What she really meant:
“I experience REM in Russian.”
What she definitely didn’t:
“I dream of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace.”
They’re better?
They’re faster—sure, at first.
They’re the fresh tennis balls of Babolat.
It’s goodbye, Dunlop. A new sphere dawns.
French balls at the French Open. Did you expect less?
Shouldering a heavy workload at the French Open? All that running and sliding and now this…
A song-and-dance about nothing, you say?
Well, let’s give the musical some lyrics and a tune.
Here’s to ballsy folk at Roland Garros.