Fabio Fabio Fabio
Caro, what is the matter? The minute you walked onto Court 18 we could tell that something was troubling you.
Your eyebrows expressed an existential anguish we yearned to fathom. Darling, lose the headband, it deprives us of a couple of inches of your face.
Your game had sparks of brilliance, but the serve, bellissimo, the serve. You have more style than your opponents, and we say this not merely because you are beautiful. Your shots aspire to an elegance that is Federerian, despite the two-handed backhand.
We know it is hard to concentrate when we are so near, gazing with envy upon the towel boy, but one must mind the game. When you lost the first two sets we could not bear it any longer, we had to leave.
But even as we sat on Murray Mound watching Nadal fend off the spirited Petzschner while we tried not to slide downhill on our butts, we were haunted by your eyebrows.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
