Photo Dump

A mother of the one of the kids we befriended in La Chatre photographed the finals. Here are the ten photos she sent me. You got to love that last photo.

Reppin' the Hens wear for B.B., not for P-P. 

Wanda and Richard I expect this to printed, framed, and then hung in your living room. 

-Max

And On To The Next One...

I hopped on the French tournament championship train with a shellacking of a 1/6 player 6-0, 6-0. I think this is the first time I've won a match 6-0, 6-0 since the 12s and it felt pretty damn good. I was playing an older gentlemen, probably in his 40s, who was a -2/6 back in his prime. Before the match we had lunch at the club with him, his wife, his child, and some other members. The atmosphere was quite cordial, wine was served and jokes were made about me drinking too much wine at lunch. But the joke was on him. He really did not enjoy losing 0 and 0 and I definitely sensed that he felt I had disrespected him to some degree. But there was no way I was going to give him a pity game just so he didn't feel bad.

Presentation of my (gigantic) trophy

It wasn't the best ball striking I've ever had in a match, but my level of focus and concentration was superb. If I could channel half of what I had yesterday into every match I would be quite dangerous. For winning the tournament I received a nice payday as well as a giant trophy, hand made by some woodworker. The giant trophy's we have both received are cool, but we hardly have room to carry them in our car.

My trophy. 

The car is full. Very, very full. 

Last night we slept at the Ardentes Tennis Club in our nice little spot by the river and had a very lazy start to the day. We basically ate croissants and then went to Flunch. You've probalby never heard of Flunch, but Flunch is fantastic. The best way to describe it, is it's a French take on the buffet. You order one of about 15 different entrees and then enter a dining area where you can help yourself to as many vegetables, french fries, pasta, salad, ect. as you would like. The best part is it costs about €6 , so we frequent Flunch often and obviously get our money's worth. Frankie thinks he's got a million dollar idea with his invention of the 'Flunch-pod'. A little pod that you enter after you eat as much Flunch as humanly possible to nap for €1 an hour. Only to wake up and continue to devour more Flunch. He really can't stop talking about the Flunch-pod. I think he has problems.

Like a kid in a candy store. 

Right now we are in the office of tourism in Chateauroux, the same town where we saw Julian Marley perform the other night. We have a 60 kilometer drive to our next tournament which is in the town of Ainay-Le-Chateau. This tournament is limited to 1/6 and we're only playing because it randomly has a very large cash prize for a tournament limited to 1/6. We play our first rounds tomorrow night at 18:00, and based on the timing it looks like we'll start in the quarterfinals, though I'm not sure. After this tournament we're really going to start heading south because it's only 13 days until La Tomatina! Also enjoy the video below. I have a problem with leaving things on the roof of the car.

Whoops...

Ardentes: Day 1 and most of 2

Not much time to write because I play in the finals of the Tournoi Ardentais in about an hour. Frankie and I both our won our first round matches against 5/6 players. We both won in straight sets and its nice that we're finally both beating players we should with relative ease. Frank had a close first which he took 7-5, before going into cruise control and winning the second 6-3. I won my first set 6-3, and then dropped the first 3 games of the second before rallying to win it 6-4. There was a bit of controversy on match point when my opponent and I had a long exchange which ended when I hit a passing shot very close to the line. My opponent looked at my with disgust, as if he could not believe I had just won on that particular shot. Since he looked at me for so long I assumed he was calling it in and walked up and shook his hand. After the match he was quite pissed and insisted the ball was out. I can't understand why he didn't just call it out then. But alas, the French can be confusing. 

Testing out some saddles in the local sports store. 

Earlier in the day we had learned that there was a free Julian Marley concert in the city of Chateauroux, a larger city about 10 kilometers from where we're sleeping, so we went to check it out. I can say with a great deal of confidence that Julian Marley would not playing music for a living if he was not a Marley. He was extremely mediocre and the highlight of the night was that the entire show was in English and it was clear none of the audience had any idea what he was saying. Nonetheless it was quite funny to see French Rastafarians.

Julain Marley concert. Julian needs to work on every aspect of his performance except his dreadlocks. He has fantastic dreadlocks. 

This morning Frankie and I played in the semifinals. It's unfortunate that we had to play before the finals, but because of the way the seedings worked out that's how it had to be, and the tournament director couldn't change it. I won 6-4, 6-4 in two ugly sets. It's hard for us to really compete when we play against each other, especially when it's not in the finals, so here's to hoping that doesn't happen again. I play a 1/6 in the finals, he's in his mid 40s and has a wicked forehand, as well as a collection of fancy polo shirts, so we'll see how it goes. I'm feeling pretty good, so I'm fairly confident I can take him.

Post lunch slumber. 

The town we are in, Ardentes, is only about 25 kilometers from where are last tournament was and we are being treated quite well here as well. Free meals from the club, a nice play to sleep (just a camping spot by a river), and everyone is very kind. Unfortunately this is our last tournament in the region. Tomorrow we go about 100 kilometers east and we play again on Saturday. We are both looking forward to the 25th when we will head down to Spain and get a bit of a break from tennis. We are enjoying playing a lot, but I've played almost 20 matches in 30 days. Mucho, mucho tenis.

-Max

The Legend Grows?

We're thinking we may never leave La Chatre. After all we're famous here now, or at least Frankie is. This morning we went to the local tennis shop, which is owned by a gentlemen who was at the tennis tournament all day Sunday, to string some racquets. 

Frankie stringing away in 'Sport Expert', an obvious name for a sports store.

We tried to pay him but he refused to accept our money and let us string as many racquets as we watned. While we were there a guy walked in and recognized Frankie from his picture in the newspaper. Yes, that's correct. Not only does Frankie have a large color photo in the paper, there is a whole story about our match, and a guy recognized Frankie from the photo. 

The cover of the paper...

...and an article about the tournament. (Click to enlarge)

Other than that today has been mellow. We went for lunch at a kebab shop, always a highlight of the day, and are just killing time until 16:00 when we have a practice court at Tennis Club Ardent, where our next tournament is. Yet again the family we stayed with last night has asked us if we would like to stay one more night, and yet again we agreed. You'd think we might be overstaying our welcome, but these people seem thrilled to have us. Last night we had the best meal of our French excursion: grilled duck, potatoes fried in duck fat, three types of cheese (Cantal, Camembert, and Goat), followed by a dessert of some sort of yogurt with brown sugar and fruit. Tres bien! 

-Max

Kings of La Chatre!

**Haven't posted in a while (sorry!), so here is the longest post I've written with the most pictures and 3, count em' 3, videos. 

There are days you'll remember for the rest of your life. And there was yesterday. I guess the best place to start is the beginning. Since I didn't get you up to speed on how La Tranche-sur-Mer finished I'll begin there. I played a 2/6 Frenchman on Saturday morning at 10:30. I played bad. Very bad. I was down 0-6, 0-4 in thirty minutes and was facing the first double bagel of my life. The frustrating thing was the guy wasn't even all that good. But I was making him look like Roger Federer. Eventually I settled in, but it was too late and I lost 0-6, 4-6. Despite my loss my trip to the semi-finals earned us our first paycheck and I walked away with 69 euros, or about $85. After my match we went to the beach for a while and eventually made our way some 300 kilometers to the city where our next tournament was held, La Chatre. 

Leaving La Trance-sur-Mer, notice this is Sable road. Not my last name, but that's how they pronounce it here anyway. 

Frank had to tinkle on the way. 

Now 300 kilometers is far, but if we were to take the highway it was only going to take us 3 hours and 30 minutes. However, going on the highways is the not the way to travel. First, our rental car agreement only allows us 4,000 kilometers, and the highway routes are always the routes that exhaust the most kilometers. You only make up speed because you can go 130 KPH. Second, and more importantly, the highway tolls are so expensive. Going 300 kilometers would cost you at least 25 euros in tolls, it's ridiculous. So we take back roads, where the speed limit is 90 KPH, and it took us about 5 hours to get to La Chatre. 

The drive from La Tranche-sur-Mer to La Chatre had kilometer after kilometer of sunflower fields. 

We didn't arrive until 23:00, but there was still a match being played. We were greeted by two women who were both very kind. One was rather portly, and the other cackled like Corolla De Ville from her decades of cigarette smoking, and neither spoke a word of English. They showed us to our campsite, which was just a field next to the club, let us shower, and somehow made it clear that they were going to serve us breakfast at 9:00 the next morning. We woke to a fantastic breakfast spread. Croissants, chocolate bread, tea, coffee, biscuits, you name it. We were introduced to Phillip, the president of the club, as well as several locals. It became clear quite quickly that Americans never come to La Chatre, and that they were very happy to have us. But before long Frankie and I both had matches to play. 

The club is small, but the courts are very similar to American hard courts. A rarity here.

This tournament was limited to 2/6, so Frankie and I were the number 1 and 2 seeds and were starting in the semifinals. Had we lost in our first match we would've made 50 euros, basically, had we lost we would've been paid to show up. But today the sun was shining. Frankie was playing a 15/1 who had been on a tear. In the round of 16 the guy had beaten a 5/6 and in the quarters he had taken down a 4/6 so despite his ranking he could play. As I begin my match Frank was struggling. The guy was an animal and refused to miss. Frank went down 1-3, before realizing the guy was a 15/1 for a reason. He couldn't handle pressure. Anytime you came to the net he tried to rope a winner and would hit balls that were still rising when they hit the fence. Once Frank figured out poor David's weakness the guy had no shot. Frank took the first set 6-4 and the second set 6-1. The weird thing was, after the match David, Frank's opponent, was wheezing and stretching out like they had just played a marathon match, when in reality it was like a 1 hour and 15 minute semi-close match. I guess this French people really smoke too many cigarettes. 

We had lunch with this guy. Believe it or not, he was a bit out there.

My opponent was a tall lefty whose ranking was 3/6. This is the 3rd lefty I'd played in a row so I was quite used to the reverse spin. The match started out very close, he broke me early and kept his break until 2-3 when I broke back. He had a solid forehand, and a good one-handed backhand. But, as Gustavo has told us, players are there ranking for a reason, and this guy was a 3/6 because his game broke down. After 10 games of rallies that consistently extended 20 shots he couldn't handle it. He started to miss more and more, and he and I both knew this was only going to end one way. I took the first set 6-3, then fell behind 1-3 in the second before reeling off 5 straight games for a 6-3, 6-3 win. Now I was set to face Frankie in the finals at 16:30.

After our matches, which ended at almost identical times, we were treated to a huge applause and the club director requested we stay for lunch. Seated with 10 other club members we were served a fine meal, where I absent-mindedly mentioned to one of the few people who spoke English how similar their courts were to American hard courts. When he translated this in to French the entire crowd gushed with pride and Frankie and I were now cemented as La Chatre tennis club's surrogate children. We had about 4 hours before the final was to take place and Frankie was whisked away to one of the club member's tennis shop, which was in the center of town, to string a racquet. While I hung around at the club I spoke to a few of the younger kids who were enamored with both Frankie and I. 

One of them, a 12 year-old named Jules, clearly wanted to hit some tennis balls so I asked him, or rather someone who spoke French and English asked him, and I think I made his week by rallying with him for 30 minutes. The club director cautioned me to not to because he didn't want me to be too tired for the finals. But I assured him it would be okay. After Frankie got back we were served an afternoon snack of tea and coffee and then slowly began our warmup for the match. About an hour before the match there were 25 people at the club. A half hour before, 40 people. And at match time well over 50 people were there to watch Frankie and I play. This was a joke, a match between us wouldn't warrant the attention of a collection of homeless people in the United States. But here the entire club was watching, and thrilled to do so. 

The crowd gathering pre-match.

The first 3 games were as nervous as nervous gets. Neither of us has played in front of a crowd this size and this is no ordinary crowd. They shout, "Ohh-Laa-Laa" when a good shot is hit and erupt in applause. A missed volley that you very well should've made results in a quite audible gasp from the entire crowd. It's damn nerve wracking. But after the first couple of games we settle in and are playing quite well, until 4-4 when Frank ups the ante. All match he has been serving bombs, but now he ratchets up his forehand. He puts every ounce of his body behind every swing and I'm just trying to block the ball back. Finally he breaks me to go up 6-5 and then hits back to back aces that were legitimately 110 MPH to start his service game. The crowd gasping with every swing of the racquet. He holds and takes the first set 7-5. In the second it's more of the same. He hits at minimum an ace and a service winner per game so I'm struggling to just win points on his serve. He breaks me to go up 3-2, and then breaks again to go up 5-2. Things are looking bad. At 30-30 he hits a kicker out wide and sprints to net where he sends an easy forehand volley long. The crowd can't believe it. I see several man throw their hands up in the air in disbelieve. Why do they care so much? I just don't understand. I break, then hold and all of the sudden it's 5-4, and I have a chance. But I'm playing Pete freaking Sampras. First point, service winner wide, 15-0. Next point, I see a second serve and manage to win the point after a grinding winner. Third point, service winner. I'm about to tomahawk my racquet across the court because Frankie is literally hitting serves that sound like gunshots when the ball hits the strings. 30-15, again I scrape out a tough point. 30-30, I'm leaning wide, because that's where he's been going when nervous. Instead he opts for an 110 MPH serve up the T, that hits the line. Not a human on earth could've returned it. 40-30, match point. I miss a return I actually should've made and Frankie wins. Standing ovation from the crowd. WHY do these people care so much? After the match he are feted with beer, wine, and pastries and begin chatting up a nice guy who speaks English. It's small talk, nothing to important, but it pays off later.

Setting up for the awards show.

The trophy presentation

Frankie's trophy. The thing is ridiculous.

Barcelon owns the local soccer club. He also had at least 5 cigars during the course of the day.

Frank kissing Barcelon's ring, the guy only wore gold and had a lot of it.

After an impressive award show, where Frankie wins a trophy the size of the U.S. Open trophy we both are quite happy with are 'schwag' bags and our prize money. Frank takes home 150 euros, while I get 80. Almost $400 in prize money, not too bad. Shortly after the award ceremony, Godfried, the gentlemen we'd been talking too invites us to his house for dinner and tells us we can sleep there. We happily accept and while he takes his kids home we take down our tent and exchange e-mails with several people who insist they will send us pictures from the match. We also exchanged e-mails with a few kids who want to come to our next tournament and watch us play. WHY THE HELL do they care so much? 

Godfried's father's house. That's Godfried on the left.

Heading for dinner after l'apertif.

Pretty awesome view from Godfried's yard.

The house was built in the 1800s and is undergoing a bit of restoration.

The view from our bedroom in the morning.

We arrive at Godfried's father's house, Godfried actually lives an hour away, and the guy lives in a mansion that would make Harry Potter jealous. Fortunately for us we arrive at l'apertif, some sort of appetizer affair that involves drinking and eating meat. We both enjoy this immensely. We have a great dinner, sleep in comfortable beds, and as we pack in the morning Godfried's wife asks us if we would like to come back for dinner and stay the night again? Why would we say no?  

Château Sazray. 

The moat that apparently used to be quite impressive.

Inside the castle.

I have to rush now because the wifi spot I'm at is nearly closed. But today we went to Chateau Sarzay, a cool castle built in the 14th century and then took care of some telephone problems, in seems we always have these. We opted for Chateau Sarzay because it was rather cheap and we're glad we did. The owner was crazy and had hoarded the oddest collection of things. We're just about to head back to Godfried's for more dinner and we're both quite happy about it. We play again at 18:00 on the 14th in a town about 20 minutes away. Hopefully I can write again soon.

The crest of the Barconois family, who originally built the castle. The 3 leopard heads represent the decapitated heads of 3 Englishmen. But there was a note apologizing if it disrespected any Englishmen.  

For some reason there were tons of wedding dresses in the castle. It was quite odd.

Bonus video: Our bunker in La Tranche.

-Max

La Tranche-sur-Mer: Day 1

After a long tournament delay we were back on the wagon today. We played our first rounds at La Tranche-sur-Mer Tennis club. We were both starting in the quarterfinals and both facing players ranked 3/6. We haven't been playing too much tennis lately and it showed early in our matches. Frankie, facing a solid Frenchman in his mid 30s, won the first game before dropping the next 6. He put up a better fight in the second but today just wasn't his day. He lost 6-1, 6-2 and immediately headed to the 'white wine' section of Super U, France's equivalent of Wal-Mart.

The downtown area of La Tranche-sur-Mer, this is the least crowded it gets.

My match also started poorly, I got broken in the first game and then after allowing my opponent to hold easily, faced multiple break points in the third game. I was able to fight them off and won to take the first set to 1-2. I was playing a 42 year-old lefty who was a teaching pro in a village about 20 minutes away. He served and volleyed almost every point on his serve making quality returns essential. With his serve and volley game I stayed down a break until 3-4 when I played a great game and broke to take it to 4-4. Then I went on a tear. Winning 8 of the next 9 games I won the first set 6-4 and the second set 6-1. My backhand felt great, and I finally feel like I'm hitting the ball well. I play in the semis tomorrow against a fellow 2/6 and if I win the finals are at 4:00. Short post today because not I'm short on time. Hopefully I can update tomorrow and let you know how it goes.

Dog with different colored eyes that barks every time we walk to our tent. I think he's possessed.

-Max

Heading South

We finally started going south towards Spain, with goal of making it to Bunol, a little town right near Valencia, by August 28th for La Tomatina, a giant tomato festival. Right now we're in the lovely town of Longeville-sur-Mer, located in the Pays de la Loire region of western France. To date, this is probably my favorite area we've traveled to. And I'm not the only one who thinks this is a cool place, as the area is absolutely packed with tourists.

Cool little shack + attractive waitress = Lots of trips to the B & B

No Americans though. Mostly French, British, and Dutch. In fact, we went to a nice restaurant tonight run by a British family and they were so surprised to see Americans in these parts that the owner had to pry into our lives to figure out what the hell we were doing down here. We arrived in the area yesterday and last night we slept on the beach. We were planning on camping in the town of La Tranche-sur-Mer, but there are so many tourists here on 'holiday' that every single campground was full so we had no choice but to hit the beach. Fearing we might we awoken by the police in the middle of the night, we constructed a little bunker on top of a dune to try and hide from view. In hindsight this was widely unnecessary as gangs of teenagers were partying on the beach until early in the morning and the police could care less. The only thing that bothered them was when they saw me walking down the street carrying an open beer. I may have actually gotten in a bit of trouble but the officer didn't speak English so we mutually agreed that I would pour it out and we would go on our way.

Our beach bunker. It was more impressive than it looks.

Tommorow we have our first rounds of our next tournament in La Tranche sur-Mer. Frank and I are the 3 and 4 seeds and we are starting in the quarterfinals at 16:00. All 4 seeds are ranked 2/6 so I hope we can do some damage in this tournament. But because everyone is so damn good, I would certainly be getting ahead of myself by making any bold predictions. After this tournament we head to La Chatre, in the Centre region of France, and play a tournament on Sunday. Apparently the Centre region is famous for its castles, so hopefully we can check out a few castles on the way. The La Chatre tournament is capped at the 2/6 ranking, meaning no players ranked higher can enter, so Frank and I start in the semis. Again, here's hoping we can finally win some money. Not much else to report. Life is good. I should be able to blog again tomorrow night to talk about the matches. Later!

Frank napping this morning. He needs 10 hours of sleep to function and the beach did not provide that last night.

The campsite for the next two days. It was also laundry day. I hate laundry day.

-Max