goose pimple murray

what a fabulous wimbledon men's final. this, of course, followed a fantastic women's final between the two lowest seeded players to ever contest the prize (venus williams, ranked 31 in the world, was seeded 23rd at the championships and marion bartoli, ranked 20 in the world, was seeded 18th).

as if anything could top that on the emotional richter scale. of course intercourse, as chuchi would say.

the coup de grace, icing on an already wonderful cake, was jamie murray and jelena jankovic coming from nowhere to win the mixed doubles crown in dramatic style: with a deciding third set. i would give more credit to how jelena handled the back court and troubled opponents with her sizzling returns, especially off her forehand wing. but stretch murray was just as fabulous with his lightning quick reflex volleys at the net, and this surefire combination won them their first wimbledon title.

so why my rippled skin and heaving emotions? because while the press were bent all over themselves focussing on andy murray to buoy british hopes in their home slam, it was the dimpled, shyer, overshadowed older brother who would do britain proud by hoisting aloft the mixed doubles trophy. never mind that he got bonked on the cheek by jelena's trophy while they posed for photographs, the fact is he, by dint of being british (scottish would be more the thing i believe), gave wimbledon a touch of being owned by them brits.

why am i mum about the men's final? am currently in grief over how rafa came so close to winning. as roddick said in his presser, "i can't begin to explain to you how it feels in the pit of my stomach." i can't say more on this except kudos to roger federer for a well-played final. he is truly one of the greats in tennis, now that he has equalled the legendary borg's five consecutive wimbledon titles. can he do a sampras and gun for titles six and seven? i would like to think that rafa, novak, richard, marcos, and yes, andy, will be looming large next year, definitely standing in his way down that path.

for now, wimbledon has come to an end and i hope my feverish excitement of the past two weeks will melt into tiny rivulets of productivity of the mundane kind. as sue barker says at bbc, "until next year, bye bye."