Nadal was as glorious as any Roman god-like gladiator, ultimately crushing Federer with the intense blows of his racket. But Federer was no average mortal either in a super human show of strength and endurance on that fateful Sunday the 5 th of July 2008. I've been getting these flackbacks from the Nadal - Federer match followed by intense adrenaline rushes to the head and have had to slap myself to emerge from the stupor.
I hope that this state is not permanent, as I find myself blissfully staring out into space re-living the match at work. I hope I haven't been drooling. It will probably fade with time and I will be able to have a conversation without mentioning details from the epic Nadal - Federer match.
I was actually there, smelling the storm coming in with Nadal and Federer like two demi-gods below making their own thunder. As the wind whipped through my hair, I felt like I knew what it was like to be one of the gods on Mt. Olympus. My best mate managed by some insane luck to get tickets on the internet. He had been recording all of the Wimbledon games and I had been staying over at his place with our eyes glued to the greens, stabbing the air with out fists and yelling at the T.V. like maniacs. My mate started going mad with this kind of call I can only describe as inhuman and definitely ape-like.
My mate was 100% for Murray and was coaching him all the way with the emotion and intensity of someone who should probably be sectioned. My mate was getting more and more frustrated that he actually lived in Wimbledon but had to watch the matches from a T.V. screen. He began surfing the net and found this site called The Online Ticket Exchange that actually had tickets to centre court on the last day there. We were looking at it for probably half an hour to see if we could make out if it was legit or not. My friend got this really devilish cheeky look and we just started hollering uncontrollably like apes before an ape fight. "F&*k it," he said in what was to be perhaps the most monumental expletive of his life. He bought the tickets. Yes, they were probably obscenely expensive. I didn't even ask him how much they were. He is a pretty big player in Hollywood, so he could afford it.

I bonded telepathically with my mate over those five hours, sucked in by the Wimbledon spell that invades your entire being until you feel like you are all pixels like some video game. People in the stands looked like forest animals caught in air-collision beacon lights, literally on the edge of their seats.
I am still in a daze like after a car crash, unable to express verbally the intensity of this match. Hopefully I will recover soon because I suspect the people at work are beginning to think I have gone looney tunes.