My Tips for Mr and Mrs Commentator
For some reason I seem to have a lot of spare time in these moments. I like to be productive and keep making the improvements not only as a champion but also as a person too, so decided to use this extra time to watch the television set.
There’s a tennis tournament on at the moment that I chose not to take further part in. It wasn’t just me, a lot of the others left too. We did it together, in the same way beautiful birds make the migrations south for the winter times.
With this extra space in My calendars I have been watching a lot of the televisions and listening to the commentators wondering whether I should become one, if I choose to. I need to think about My future, quite quickly it seems. I have made the following observations whilst listening to Mr and Mrs Commentator:
- Yes I am the GOAT. Even though on the occasions I say we should not and cannot compare ears, you know deep down I am making the agreements that I am GOAT.I.Am – But, My commentator friends, do we have to keep saying it? Here is a challenge for you, just for fun times. The next time you are making the commentaries on a match where I am not playing, try not to mention My name. If you can last for longer than 32 seconds I will ask staff to toss you a Lindt chocolate ball.
- Rafaello Nadal. OK he isn’t My favorite but I’m not going to say why at the moment. If I had (another) expensive watch for every time you mention the way he places his bottles, I would be like the Big Benjamin Clock in London. We know he has a thing about his bottles because we can see it with our biological eyes. It is not news and nor has it been since 2004 when I chose to lose against him for the first times. If you can go through a Rafaello match without mentioning his bottle placings I will arrange for a special banquet in Pizza Express, SW19 (Before 6pm for the Early Bird discount vouchers).
- “Uncle” Toni. He is not your Uncle so why do you keep referring to him as this? He is not My Uncle either… although I wish he was. Do you call my Father, “Daddy Federer”? Well if you do, please make the refrainings because this is not appropriateness. He is My Daddy not yours.
- Igor Dimitrov is his name. Not “Baby Fed”. I did not look like him when I was a baby, I was much smaller, had little legs and at first I had the little chubbies in My cheeks. Now you have given him another name too, “Sharapova’s boyfriend”. I don’t believe this is on his Birth Certificate either.
I hope you don’t feel that I am making the encroachments on your professionalism, although I am somewhat. You’re welcome.