current mood: Aggravated
current song: Andy Roddick's Presser
The beat up by commentators of Australian players at the Australian Open is vomit-inducing, and probably contributes to why I find it so difficult to endear myself to Australian tennis players. Most of them, by and large, aren't good enough to warrant the hype, and it's frustrating to hear such relentless rubbish.
Thankfully, Jim Courier is there to balance the ledger a little bit tonight.
For what it's worth, Lleyton Hewitt is a wanker, regardless of which country his mother pointed her vagina towards while in labour, so I'm more than happy to be on A-Rod's side here.
The mind-numbing jingoism of the Australian Open (while there are still Aussies in the draw), is the reason why evening sessions in the first week bore me to tears. I could be watching good matches instead - if I wasn't in bed, and away from Foxtel for the moment.
And while I'm at it, Bernard Tomic is a douchebag. His lame stunt of trying to drag my favourite ever tennis player into the Tomic/Hewitt feud by lying and insinuating that Juan Carlos was lying, doesn't really endear me to him either.
'mon the Dog Lollipop!