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“Had all four of my wisdom teeth yanked out in the same sitting by a former Air Force dentist,” brags Gregory Phillips. “The local anaesthesia didn’t work fully and I swill never forget the feeling of the root ripping out of my jawbone on the first one. Still makes me shiver 23 years later.”
I’ve had a fair few dental operations – as a kid, i was bending down behind someone to trip them up, the pusher acted before I was ready, and I ended up with a perfect arch carved into my front two teeth. The crowns then repeatedly came off – they were particularly impartial to Wham and Irn Bru bars – so I spent many teenage hours in the dentist’s chair, but this was a different thing entirely.
Is there a cultural reason Americans enjoy using what we in the UK consider to be surnames as first names? I know we’ve noted it – so too did Billy Connolly – but is there a reason? Perhaps Fritz Taylor can advise.
Nothing to do with tennis, but I’ve got the cricket on my second screen and they’re telling us about the Ruth Strauss Foundation. My eyeballs may be sweating, but Andrew Strauss: what a father, what a husband, what a man. Support him if you can.
It’s well hot in London today. In normal circumstances, you’d wonder if a 38-year-old would be able to cope with that, except that 38-year-old is one of the fittest athletes there’s ever been. I do, though, expect him to try and shorten points – he won’t want Sinner to work opportunities to plant his feet and unleash that forehand.
Tracy Austin notes that Fritz has been improving on a yearly, and has won a couple of grass-court tournaments leading up to this one. The problem he has is his movement is nowhere near as good as Alcaraz’s, so he needs to finish points without really having the game to do that from the back against so accomplished an opponent – and, as Calv reminded us, his volleying isn’t all that. He’ll have to play the game of his life to make it close, and even then…
Anyone ever had a wisdom tooth schlepped out? Goodness me, that is, as Louis van Gaal was wont to say of an even worse activity – watching his Manchester United team play – “a process.” I did not expect to return home and begin violently shivering, but I guess it is men’s semi-final day, so.
Alcaraz must feeling impregnable. First, he beat Sinner from two sets and three match points down to win the French Open, again, then he somehow found a way to beat Jaume Munar at Queen’s before winning the title with some ease, and then he got by Fabio Fognini in the first round here when he looked in profound peril. The extent to which he adores being him is moving.
That, then, is a flat “no” to my question, ‘Could Fritz Stich-Edberg Alcaraz?’ – with an added caveat: “Stich could volley.”
So how will our matches go? Luckily, Coach Calv Betton messages in to tell us: “Can’t see any way Alcaraz loses. Even if Fritz serves well, he doesn’t return well enough and hasn’t won a set off him before. Sinner v Djokovic could be interesting just cos it’s on grass, but in both matches there’s nothing really exciting technically. They’re all just gonna play their games. Djokovic will try and move Sinner around. I suspect he’ll try and slice more as well. I saw him doing a lot in practice this week.”
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Preamble
Wotcha one and all and welcome to Wimbledon 2025 – day 12!
Certain things are good every single time, in every single iteration – the world championships in snooker and darts, say, or when a newsreader accidentally drops a swear-word in their narration.
Wimbledon belongs in that category but, like all sporting tournaments, to be counted among the classics it requires epic contests in its final stages – and we’re at that point now. Yesterday, Amanda Anisimova and Aryna Sabalenka gave us what we needed; now it’s the turn of the men, and the portents are good.
Opening up on Centre Court, we’ve a contest of contrasts. Carlos Alcaraz. bidding for a third straight title, is a creative genius – a one-off talent fired by youthfulness and unmatchable self-belief, whose relationship to the game feels almost religious. Conversely, Taylor Fritz is searching, hoping that at some point, perhaps now, his simple power-game clicks for long enough to allow him to win an elusive grand slam title.
He knows that if Alcaraz is at his best, he has a problem. But he also knows that Alcaraz has form for getting lost in the supermarket, befuddled by the multitude of options such rich ability offers. If he serves as well as he can, he can create pressure, and pressure does funny things to anyone and everyone. It’s a long shot, but it’s a legitimate shot.
Following them on to court, we have a match-up that we are mandated to savour: anytime we’re lucky enough to see it could be the last time we’re lucky enough to see it. Jannik Sinner is the reigning champion at both the US and Australian Open, a tennis cyborg of equanimity and reliability. But his defeat in the Roland Garros final, from two sets up, will be with him forever – he knows he is never safe, in danger of defeat from any position – and he he also knows he was headed for elimination in round four, until Grigor Dimitrov’s right pec saved him. He is seeking redemption and reassurance, achievable only by winning matches such as today’s.
In Novak Djokovic, he faces an opponent from whom, for the first time, we’re not really sure what we’re going to get. It’s hard to accept, but the greatest tenniser of all time is old, his metronomic brilliance no longer a certainty. He was fantastic against Dan Evans and Miomir Kecmanovic, less so against better players in Alex de Minaur and Flavio Cobolli. We know he has a performance in him, but we no longer know if and when he’ll locate it – nor, if he does, whether it’ll be enough. And we also don’t know whether, if he loses, this’ll be the last time we see him elevate these courts.
Or, in other words, we’re about to watch four men show us how desperately they need this, prostrating their souls and desires for our entertainment and their fulfilment; on reflection, “good” doesn’t do it justice. This is what it’s all about.
Play: 1.30pm BST
