I haven't been writing about Roger Federer in a while because I've moved on from that crazy fangirl phase (thanks, friends, for sticking it through and tolerating my zillion entries about him), and because I have other things going on and no time to follow his matches all that closely. But this is Wimbledon; or rather, it was Wimbledon, until he lost his forehand somewhere towards the end of the third set in his quarter-final against Kevin Anderson, the tall, big-serving South African who had never won a set, let alone a match, against Roger, before causing the biggest upset at Wimbledon so far--and sent Roger packing, 13-11 in the fifth.
So gutted, so sad, so sad. Even with just half of the emotional investment I used to have, sitting through this match, all 4+ hours of it, sitting in front of the TV from 8pm to 12 midnight, was just... And to think that I was joking to my mom, 'I think I can watch the end of Nishikori/Djokovic after this match' when Fed was up two sets to love and looked like he'd secure an easy victory.
He even had a match point in the third when Anderson was serving at 4-5, 30-40. I don't even remember what happened. All I remember now is the loss of his forehand: so lethal in the first set, and previous matches, and suddenly nowhere to be found. Dumping balls into the net, hitting shots long or wide, his timing completely off.
But regardless. He is still Roger Federer. No shame in losing a closely fought five-setter at the age of 36 (37 on 8 August) to an in-form opponent in the quarter-final of Wimbledon.
Also: I have pretty much cleared my evenings for the rest of the week because Wimbledon. But now I don't think I want to watch the men's matches anymore. I don't like any of the players left, and I generally prefer women's tennis anyway (more variety, less serve-reliant and hence more interesting/less boring). So I may choose the World Cup final on Sunday over the men's final; since Roger isn't going to be there, I don't really care who wins as long as it's not Nadal.
I played with Kevin this morning and he took a short video of me hitting mostly backhands to show someone he's coaching how to do a proper backhand follow-through (my question is, how does one hit a backhand without following through?). I watched it when I got home and I am so aghast by how ugly my take back is, and how my left hand pretty much dangles like a useless vestige when I hit a forehand. I drop the racquet too early on the take back on both wings -- something which I had already felt to be the case, but there's nothing like seeing your own shortcomings on video with your very own eyes.
Basically, I need to remodel my groundstrokes.
Also, I was really surprised by how limp and soft my shots looked when I was actually hitting the ball quite hard.
Meh. I do not like this huge mismatch between how I had pictured my tennis to look, and how it actually looks. At least it's efficient...but who cares about efficiency? Or rather, it has to be efficient, and it has to look good. It has to be proper. I've never been one to feel particularly good about hitting a good shot if I didn't intend to hit it, or hitting a winner if it wasn't hit well or properly. I chalk this down to the unfortunate side effects of my mild perfectionism.
Others - PhD, Etc
I don't really feel like writing. It is almost 2am, so I really want to sleep; but I haven't been writing at all over the past weeks.
The PhD is something that needs to be done.
Life is something that needs to be sorted out.
My Skype call with my supervisors was useful today in the sense that they gave me some perspective and halted my panicking over my shitty CV. There's no need to panic. Stay calm. Things will work out once this PhD is done. I am not as shitty as I think I am; this is the point.
My head hurts too much right now, so I will finish with:
Hong Kong. I don't know.