pancakes and tennis don't mix

*i started writing an entry about who the next manager for england's national football team might be, and my thoughts on my personal choices, klinsmann & mourinho, but decided to put off the football writing for another time. to my dad and dear baasti, i hope i do not lose you too soon. :)

it was a sunday afternoon and one of the most competitive women's tennis matches was taking place in madrid between justine henin and maria sharapova. justine had already been affirmed as the year-end number 1; whether she lost or won in the final would not change that fact. maria had squeaked into the year end tournament of top 8 players in the world due to the withdrawal of the year's wimbledon champion, venus williams.

justine swept through her round robin group with a predictable but nonetheless impressive 3-0 record over her tired (jelena jankovic)/overwhelmed (anna chakvetadze)/rattled (marion bartoli) opponents. she proceeded to demolish the emerging princess of adidas from serbia, ana ivanovic (the same woman who had slid into her throne as the face of the german sportswear brand) in the semifinals. then in a classic 3-hour match, she overcame the shrieking, powerful serving maria sharapova.

maria, in the other group, blitzed through her own matches, taking the scalps of svetlana kuznetsova, daniela hantuchova, and ana ivanovic in the round robin stage and then eliminating anna chakvetadze in straight sets in the semifinals. for a woman whose shoulder injuries had seen her chalk up a progressively worsening loss record at the majors (she went out in the semifinals in australia, the quarterfinals in france, and round 3 in the united states), she played a splendidly resurgent game in the year-end tournament, showing critics and fans alike that if she is healthy, she is truly a force to reckon with in the game. her absence in the tournaments between the US open and the year end tournament made me realise that even if i intensely dislike the way she shrieks on court and stares down her opponents, that when she is not around, the game is strangely void of her presence.

here i am, speaking of an event that is long past. the tennis stars are rolling in their millions, enjoying their holidays before they hit the road again in january for the australian open, "the happy slam" as roger federer describes it. the thing is, while i was watching the riveting final between justine and maria, i was trying to cook pancakes à la belgique (the belgium way) for my sons who were due to arrive at any moment from a birthday party. you can see it was a project gone awry. i could blame the batter or i could blame the tennis. what (not who!) do you think was the culprit for such a royal mess?