Last night I went to bed with visions of Roddick dancing in my head.
I felt as if I was trying to unravel a mystery that everyone else already knew the answer to. But, when early morning thunderstorms rolled through, I awoke with a thunderbolt. Literally. It had to be a relatively close strike. But that's how it hit me. WONDERBOY.
Yes, like the wooden baseball bat that was carved from the tree that was hit by lightning in front of Roy Hobbs house. (say that three times fast)
Andy is the ultimate WONDERBOY, the all-American hero we love! He's just cocky enough on the court, walking a fine line between arrogance and good-natured fun. He can hit the tennis ball fast enough to make every person in the crowd flinch. BAM! Or maybe that's just me?
He talked out loud, scared a ball boy with his display of anger but still managed to make the crowd laugh. We were supporting and rooting for him throughout the match last night.
"Come on, Andy!" says the girl behind me. She's probably 17.
"You can do it, Andy!" says the woman next to me. She's probably 65.
And then similar words came from my mouth as well, unexpectedly. There's no yelling in tennis. WRONG! I was clapping and vocalizing just like everybody else. Age? Somewhere between the other two.
He struggled a bit and his frustration showed. His racket took the brunt of his power and was crushed. But after the win, he autographed it and allowed it to be auctioned off for St. Jude.
Also, when asked to buy the first ticket for the St. Jude Dream Home Giveaway at $100 a pop, guess what? He offered to buy the first TEN tickets.
How can you NOT love the guy? Big serve. Big Heart.
Let's Go ANDY!