Kate McKinnon

Several more views of the Branch Bar, with and without yet another owl- this one just a Head, by Karen Elmquist. Who can choose?

And to Andy Roddick, who probably played the best match of his life. He didn’t lose a single service until he lost the match.

I watch maybe two or three tennis games a year, and the Wimbledon final is one of them. I’m watching Federer and Roddick battle, with Bjorn Borg and Pete Sampras watching from right behind the line. It reminded me of how much I loved Borg, the only other tennis player I’ve ever been weak for besides ROGER. The headband, the focus, the catlike poetry, and, so important, the silent strength. I can’t handle a grunter.  Andy Roddick is serving at almost 140 miles an hour- I have never seen him play like this.

OMG. HFS. Sweet Jesus. He reduces me to very short statements. It isn’t just that he’s pretty, that’s never enough. He’s so interesting, so calm, and focused, and dedicated to the fine points of his craft. And he has such silky hair.

It’s 6 a.m. in Tucson, and I’m watching Roger play Andy Roddick in the Wimbledon final for rather large stakes, trying to pass Pete Sampras for the record for most Grand Slam victories. Sampras arrived during the fifth game of the first set, somewhat disruptively, and sat right behind Federer. Is this a head game? Or a late flight? We don’t know, but we do know that Roger lost five straight points after he sat down. John McEnroe is there too. I haven’t seen Borg yet but let me say that his underwear line is cute as hell.

I’m happy for Andy Roddick that he is there, but damn. Roger Federer. OMG. HFS.