Sole Of Sci-Fi gets into a Wimbledon mood. Can you work out where all these alien tennis balls come from?
Anyone for tennis? On the day after Nadal was spectacularly knocked out of Wimbledon, Sole Of Sci-Fi steps onto court (not a grass court, sadly – they don’t seem to exist outside of tournaments) to face The Balls Of Doom (which isn’t a tropical disease).
So here’s a challenge for you. Can you work out what all the balls are and which shows/films they come from? I promise I’ll give the answers tomorrow!
I’m not a massive sports-watching fan. I like taking part but simply watching sport on TV generally bores me rigid. Most sport is like a plotless drama with no climax; it just stops when the whistle blows, or whatever. I blame my dislike on being forced as a kid to watch my dad playing cricket every Sunday. With its lack of action and a scoreboard you needed logarithmic tables to work out cricket was about the dullest experience a six year-old could live through.
But Wimbledon, I love. Always have. I remember as a very young boy recording in a small note book every single shot of a Martina Navratilova match (or Martina Natrilova as my mum used to say… but then she calls profiteroles potty-frotty-rolls which makes them sound about 45% less appealing). I’m not sure why I did this.
It’s not even like I like watching other tennis tournaments. Generally I don’t watch any others. It’s just Wimbledon. There’s almost something mythical about it.
Since his shock victory over Nadal, I’ve heard various TV tennis punters describe Kyrgios as “a young Boris Becker” and “a young John McEnroe”. Which is a bit like describing a new film as either a bit like The Godfather or a bit like Gandhi. They don’t really know what to say about him at the moment, except, “He was a bit good yesterday, wasn’t he?”
I know today’s neon orange Donnay trainers wouldn’t exactly pass the All England Tennis Club dress code, but I hope the socks give me a suitably Wimbledon look.
Like father like son…
On a completely different note, watch episode two of the new season of Teen Wolf last night (a show which is so much better than it has any right to be, even if its self-consciously cool approach often tips over into plain silliness). I was amused to see that an episode in which controlling anger was a such a big part of the plot featured a very apt guest star – Lou Ferrigno Jr, son of original TV Hulk actor Lou Ferrigno. Apparently he’ll be a recurring character, playing a bad cop called Deputy Haigh. No doubt you won’t like him when he’s angry.
See you tomorrow!
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