The Djokovic Edge

As much as I rave about tennis, this is the closest I will ever get to playing. This was taken last year at Wimbledon, posing with a Giant Babolat.

This year....no Wimbledon, and hence no Giant Babolat.

Instead, books, books and more books. Oh Joy!

But a big day lies ahead tomorrow....because for the first time, this man is World No.1 AND has scored himself a ticket to the Wimbledon Finals:

It is hard to identify just what I like about Novak Djokovic. I recently read an article identifying that despite his arrogant strut, the mad gleam in his eyes, the pumping of fists in mad euphoria each time he wins just one point, and the many times he has battered his racquet to smithereens, earning cautions from the umpire along the way, there is just something about Nole that is charming in so many ways.

That would be the so-called more poetic reason I could draw out as to why I am one of the few Djokovic fans in this tennis world.

Honestly, I am not sure. There is a part of me that just relishes being different from the norm. When 90% of all people I know are Man Utd fans, I have stuck to my guns and maintained my position in the slowly diminishing pool of Liverpool fans. Perhaps I like the fact that I am actually one of that 'rare breed', perhaps I just am used to being taunted at by this guy and that, and the numerous Red Devils who modify names to 'Loserpool'.

And when many a tennis fan grabs their hair in admonishment and exclaim "YOU LIKE DJOKOVIC?!!", it is almost a reflex reaction for me to defensively say "What are you trying to insinuate?!"

Maybe I just like being different, as per being a Liverpool fan. Who knows?

But there is just something about Djokovic that stirs an indescribable bond with me. I have lamented continuously that it was boring how this man was 45-matches unbeaten this year and that someone should stop him, but the moment he lost to Federer in the semis of Roland Garros, I realised that old habits die hard. It took great effort for me halfway watching the match to realise that I was not supposed to be hurling insults at Djoker on the TV screen but should be silently applauding Federer for his brilliant efforts.

So as much as Rafa is my favourite Spaniard in terms of determination and resilience, as much as I salute Federer for his absolute grace and poise on court, and as much as my Djoker totally defies the rule of tennis being a 'Gentleman's Game', it is with this Serbian that my loyalties lie. Love is blind, they say. But it is too late to start over now.

But I have always been a rational girl, when it comes to tennis and football and any other form of sport I watch (read: none), so I will lay down the odds for tomorrow as such:

Rafa will probably take the cup, but please, compadres, do it in less than 3 hours so as to save our time! We are busy people, you see!

And as for my Djoker: we'll see how much of the 45-match-unbeaten-streak man he is tomorrow. As far as I was concerned, he was pretty much a shadow of it when he was playing Tomic and Tsonga over the past few days.

Perhaps celebrations will be in order after tomorrow. Buying my tennis counterpart a Michelin star meal at Heston Blumenthal's restaurant, maybe. Lol.

A girl can hope.