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whoever was on espn yesterday at around four-thirty p.m. talking about sunday's federer-agassi final were idiots who i'm pretty sure never even saw the match. that's the only reason i can come up with for mocking andre agassi for moving like an old man and needing a nap in the middle of the second set, because if they'd actually seen him play they would have seen how quick and fluid his movement was, how he was playing some of the best and cleanest tennis of his life to date. the thing is, agassi was playing some of the best tennis of his life and still, still, federer rose up in the third-set tie-break and annihilated him.
my mother was in the kitchen while i was watching the match, and she mentioned that i was, you know, loud. i get into it! i'm pretty sure i freaked out roommate n. last january during the safin-federer semifinal at the australian open. it's just. federer hits the ball differently than anyone else i've seen, longer strokes somehow, or softer, when his forehand is one of the fastest in the world. the ball looks smaller as it comes off his racket, and you never see him move, he's just there all of a sudden, ending the point with a winner you didn't even know was possible. mary carillo says she's never met a champion like him, says he somehow manipulates time: the man is never rushed. no one has a bad word to say about him.
everyone who says federer's game has no weaknesses obviously didn't see him blow every forehand volley he tried to hit, and weren't listening to johnny mac point them out each and every time (other things sports commentators are good at pointing out? turns out andre agassi is thirty-five, if you missed it the first forty million times they mentioned it). when he tightens up his net game, then he'll have no weaknesses, heh. or close enough. i'm still thrilled just to be alive and watching him right now.
other things i am thrilled to be alive and watching, though not on the same historical level:
( house 201: acceptance )
house is a detective with a medical degree. he sees the world in pieces and instinctively, obsessively, puts the pieces together. the easiest, most natural au for him is the '40s film-noir private eye: he already broods, drinks, plays the piano, limps, and has a chip on his shoulder for the entire human race. substitute polio or a riding accident for the infarction and a morphine addiction for the vicodin, give him a fedora and a pack of cigarettes, and you're in business.
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meinnim heard about the similarities some people—including myself—have drawn between house and rodney mckay, and was amused by them, calling for a crossover where mckay calls medicine "voodoo" and, you know, wackiness and EPIC SNARK ensue. ciderpress once called the members of john's team (excepting ford, pre-siege iii) "bizarrely, voluntarily ostracized" from their social groups, and that's, like, the definition of house's standing in the community. house is the most curious man on the planet (self-described), he has one thing ("dnr"), he's obsessed with finding out and knowing, according to himself and everyone with whom he crosses paths. rodney's drive to know is less explicit and less explored (it's not his show, exclusively), but ( whoa, trinity spoiler! what's the statute of limitations on these? )
both house and rodney chose their talents and brains and themselves over other people; they don't like people very much, people slow them down. i'm not saying they're twins separated at birth—rodney is largely oblivious to people, where house is acutely, painfully dialled in to *everything* around him; rodney is insecure and impatient, where house is angry and bitter and actively antagonistic; etc., etc.—but they're both constantly working the "out of my way, bitch! genius at work!" thing.
my mother was in the kitchen while i was watching the match, and she mentioned that i was, you know, loud. i get into it! i'm pretty sure i freaked out roommate n. last january during the safin-federer semifinal at the australian open. it's just. federer hits the ball differently than anyone else i've seen, longer strokes somehow, or softer, when his forehand is one of the fastest in the world. the ball looks smaller as it comes off his racket, and you never see him move, he's just there all of a sudden, ending the point with a winner you didn't even know was possible. mary carillo says she's never met a champion like him, says he somehow manipulates time: the man is never rushed. no one has a bad word to say about him.
everyone who says federer's game has no weaknesses obviously didn't see him blow every forehand volley he tried to hit, and weren't listening to johnny mac point them out each and every time (other things sports commentators are good at pointing out? turns out andre agassi is thirty-five, if you missed it the first forty million times they mentioned it). when he tightens up his net game, then he'll have no weaknesses, heh. or close enough. i'm still thrilled just to be alive and watching him right now.
other things i am thrilled to be alive and watching, though not on the same historical level:
( house 201: acceptance )
house is a detective with a medical degree. he sees the world in pieces and instinctively, obsessively, puts the pieces together. the easiest, most natural au for him is the '40s film-noir private eye: he already broods, drinks, plays the piano, limps, and has a chip on his shoulder for the entire human race. substitute polio or a riding accident for the infarction and a morphine addiction for the vicodin, give him a fedora and a pack of cigarettes, and you're in business.
meinnim heard about the similarities some people—including myself—have drawn between house and rodney mckay, and was amused by them, calling for a crossover where mckay calls medicine "voodoo" and, you know, wackiness and EPIC SNARK ensue. ciderpress once called the members of john's team (excepting ford, pre-siege iii) "bizarrely, voluntarily ostracized" from their social groups, and that's, like, the definition of house's standing in the community. house is the most curious man on the planet (self-described), he has one thing ("dnr"), he's obsessed with finding out and knowing, according to himself and everyone with whom he crosses paths. rodney's drive to know is less explicit and less explored (it's not his show, exclusively), but ( whoa, trinity spoiler! what's the statute of limitations on these? )both house and rodney chose their talents and brains and themselves over other people; they don't like people very much, people slow them down. i'm not saying they're twins separated at birth—rodney is largely oblivious to people, where house is acutely, painfully dialled in to *everything* around him; rodney is insecure and impatient, where house is angry and bitter and actively antagonistic; etc., etc.—but they're both constantly working the "out of my way, bitch! genius at work!" thing.