Ok, so to put it bluntly I’m really over hearing about how Bernard Tomic is an arrogant wanker, how he needs to grow up and concentrate on his game, yada yada…
Not since Lleyton Hewitt won the US Open in 2001 has there been such anticipation of a local player. Claiming victory in Sydney the year prior, in 2000, Hewitt remains the youngest male to have won the title in Sydney.
Old mate Tomic just did this on Saturday night with his first ATP title showing a solid performance and registering a top-50 status in only five days and last night he backed it up again with his first round win over Leonardo Mayer. But stuff all that! He’s a dick right? Owns a yellow Ferrari – clearly a douche – has hot girlfriends, and is fond of a drunken early morning fight spa.
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Not for a minute am I suggesting young Australian tennis player Bernard Tomic is immature. That said, it’d be better if he took his anger out on his bathtime rubber duckie instead of the immaculate turf of Wimbledon.
Seriously, far be it for a balding suburban slob like me to suggest a 19 year old isn’t entitled to show some raw emotion. It’s just that, well, you’d love to see some of that aggression channelled into smashing his opponents instead of his own racquets.
Look, clearly Tomic has grown up of late. Everyone around him will tell you that almost as as eagerly as young Bernie himself. And y’know, you’d almost be inclined to believe him if it wasn’t so damned obvious he’s wearing a huge nappy under those oversized shorts.
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Have you chucked a sickie today? We bet you’re one of many hundreds of thousands who do!
While we recover from an Australia Day that saw the PM lose a shoe, we’re also contemplating how 19-year-old tennis whipper snapper Bernard Tomic qualified for a special dispensation to drive a hotted-up sports car.
Are we that dazzled by celebrity sportsmen we basically let them do what they want? Any way, fire away.
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OK, so having spent half the summer bagging old buggers who don’t know when to quit, let’s give some love to those who continue to ripen on the vine without rotting.
Firstly, Roger Federer. The Swiss master is known as FedEx because he delivers results fast. Last night, the Ex stood for Exhibition, as in exhibition match. There were two tennis players on Rod Laver Arena last night – Federer and Jim Courier, who interviewed him after the game.
Bernard Tomic was apparently also there, but pretty much just as a hitting partner. Oh, he tried. He came with a plan. A plan to blast Federer off the court instead of teasing him with deft touches he’d employed so well against lesser opponents. It was the Malaysia Solution of sporting strategies.
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Despite the quality of Michael Clarke’s record since taking over the Test captaincy, he’d been much-maligned until his Sydney triple ton. But Clarke’s record-breaking knock has finally silenced the knockers.
The performance was all the more memorable because it happened it was on home soil. Amplified media attention, free-to-air TV coverage, and the ability to attend events live means sport played domestically is afforded extra credence.
Bernard Tomic now finds himself in a similar boat to the former Mr Lara Bingle.
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When you hear the words “father”, “coach” and “talented young tennis player” in the same sentence, it’s usually time to oil the rifle. For now, though, let’s give young Australian tennis star Bernard Tomic the benefit of the doubt.
Overnight, Tomic became the only Australian men’s player other than Lleyton Hewitt to make the Wimbledon quarter finals since 2003 with his demolition of some Belgian dude with an X in his name. He’ll now face world number two Novak Djokovic, whom he beat in an exhibition match in Melbourne last summer.
In serious competition, Djokovic will likely whip Tomic. But as the youngest man in the draw, the Australian’s performances at Wimbledon this year prove beyond doubt that he has now officially arrived, after all the years of hype. So now that he’s here, what can we expect to see?
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Update: Lleyton lost, again.
Excuse the disturbing imagery, but imagine for a moment Lleyton Hewitt as a burlesque dancer.
Imagine Lleyton as one of those Dita Von Teese types that have lead a popular resurgence for the art in recent years. Emerging out of a large bowl and dressed in emu feathers, Hewitt begins the Australian Open by holding an expectant crowd’s attention with his potential to nude-up with a win.
But year after year the tease is interrupted by a stern order from backstage and Lleyton goes running off, leaving the crowd to go home frustrated and merely fantasize at the potential of what we might have been treated to.
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