richie tenenbaum tennis

A strong draft is blowing through my room and swirling around the neighbourhood. Close your eyes and you are in hogwarts.

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From the Ministry of Health's booklet on organ transplant:

A person who is brain dead is truly and unequivocally dead and will never wake up nor regain consciousness again.

Brain death occurs when there is total and irreversible cessation of all functions of the brain in a person. When a person is declared brain dead, he will not be able to breathe on his own and will need to be artificially supported by a ventilator. Once the ventilator is switched off, the person's heart will cease to beat as his brain has already stopped functioning.

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Last night i watched tennis for nearly 8 hours straight. I don't really understand this as I've never so much as use a tennis racket to hit a tennis ball. But i first got hooked one day a few years ago, when i turned on the tv on a school night and there was Roddick vs Federer and i watched for 3 hours straight though i had no idea about forehands or backhands or counting score. Now i do a bit more and why does everyone wear white at Wimbledon? And why does Nadal tug at his underwear nearly every time before serving? It was 3 in the morning but I perservered because I HAD TO SEE NADAL WIN. And during the darn rain breaks they showed the 1980 Borg vs McEnroe finals, one of the 'historic matches'. Here are Borg and McEnroe.

How i wish players today wore what they used to wear in the past. Small hard-material white shorts with zips and buttons, stripy cotton shirts, big red headbands (McEnroe). And the funny umpire sits on the same level as everyone and the some people in the crowd are mad women from the 80s with that side parted wave of a fringe and pinky lipstick cheering a bit psychotically, flailing their arms and looking madly self-amused. Watching the old match gave me a cosy feeling. I wish I could've shared the real match with my father but that 1980 match, my father was 20 when he watched it (like me now) and he watched it till his tv emitted smoke and burnt out halfway. He went to sleep (HOW COULD HE) and imagine how he felt the next day when he found out what happened ($!@%&*^%!!!) But I got to watch part of what my father didn't finish then. (Actually it was probably because he watched it halfway that he gave me a quite devastatingly inaccurate description of what happened in the match) When the real match resumed, my grandmother was still snoring loudly as I clutched Johnny and Sharkie, one in each arm. My feet were sweaty and my heart was beating fast. I almost got a seizure when they said '4th championship point'. Finally Nadal won. Johnny, Sharkie and I let out mad silent cheers. VAMOS!!!!!!!