Love is all that i can give to you...

Hello friends!

Whoever you are. Wherever you are. From Timbuktu to Greenland, from north pole to south pole and back, if you are 15 or 50, at some point in your life, you will have stumbled over that mystery which has inspired myriads of philosophers, authors, scientists and truth seekers all over the world:

Now, lets see where we stand.

Scientists, party poopers they are, say its all down to hormones, developed by evolution to secure the survival of the human race.

Of course, animals of all kinds survive just fine without any romantic feelings. There are also certain human societies that survive just fine without it, and even thrive, when it comes down to numbers. So what madness has possessed other societies to develop that special kind of romantic love portayed by the picture above?

Influence of the american society? Valentine's day anyone? Nah, not really. While Christianity, as a whole, seems to have a lot to do with it. If i remember correctly, the concept of romantic love came up during Middle Ages in Europe. Precisely, over a time peroid of 300-400 years. Unfortunately, its impossible to find the exact culprit of this abnormality.

Because it is an abnormality. In scientific terms.


Let me tell you a story.

There was a woman who married a slightly younger man. This man was very charming, good looking, nice, friendly and warm, the dream of a husband. That woman fell deeply in
love' with him, and for a while, her world was a rosy as it could possibly be.

He seemed to do everything for her, they had kind of a 'spiritual' bond, and she fell deeper and deeper into that trap that could only be a receipe for disaster.

Over time, she detected here and there that something was not right, but she never thought of finding out what it was- as it often happens in 'romantic love' relationships, she refused to come out of her rosy- cosy state of mind, since life seemed so easy and well- planned and she had invested so much of herself. So much that she didn't realize her own personality drowning in the process. When she finally realized it, it was too late.

The day came when she found out that her charming husband had used said charme not only for her, but for a good dozen of other women. He was married to another woman as well.And had 2 other children from that marriage.

The woman went through a hell she never imagine it existed and finally ended in a psychiatric clinic, where she still is today. She could never be healed again, despite any kind of therapeutic measures. She is until today in a more or less catatonic state.



Its a sad story, but i only use it as an extreme example. Have you ever been 'lovesick'? And have you ever been the victim of a others making a lot of jokes about it? Make no mistake. It is indeed a sickness, and it can be a very dangerous one.


Now, lets come to the positive side of the coin. Because there is one, in a spiritual way, and if you are interested in spiritual development, here is your chance of a lifetime to get the most out of it for yourself.


First, lets make clear that the concept of 'romantic love' is a fraud. Second, even if its a fraud, it can help you to develop in a spiritual sense like nothing else can. It can teach you more about what holds the world together than any science on the planet.

Because what holds the world together, is universal love. All the frauds, all the temptations, all the pain we go through are, in the end, only steps on the ladder to finally scratch the surface area of universal love.

This might not be a comfort to you if you are in any state of pain caused by romantic love. But it might be a comfort to know that while experiencing this, you are already developing a much deeper understanding of what makes the world turn. You have the chance to see through the fraud and to help others to see through it as well.

When you are a woman, you might still meet another man (or woman) who will make your hands shake. It happens. Enjoy it, but recognize the fraud. Universal love is not a fraud. Its very real, its the essence of our existence, its the ultimate goal. Romantic love to one special person is what opens our heart, what makes us feel the glimpse of that ultimate goal, what gives us a first impression of what we can achieve.

The person you have loved (and the one who hurt you) is the person that opened your path.Its up to you to follow it.


This is only a blog. I'm a normal person, i don't have a philosophers stone (and you bet i wish i had). Don't take my word for it, but maybe some day, you will be able to discover your own truth, and find your own enlightement.

I wish you luck.


Have a nice day!

The Downfall of an Empire

Before i start- maybe i should not write blogs in a really bad mood. Anyway, its better than writing it drunk. Slightly.

The Empire that fell for me this weekend, is Wimbledon.

I should have photoshopped this a bit. Maybe make the leaves appear withered and brown. Unfortunately, my photoshop skills are- to put it mildly- very limited.

But it should look more like Rivendell. Like late Autumn. You can still see it, still standing, but you just know the glory days are over.

I'm not talking about Rafa going out in round 2. Upsets happen, even to the best. Especially on grass courts, the most difficult surface to play tennis. I'm not even talking about the weather- it rained in Wimbledon before. But there was still glory. There was excitement. There was that aura of the best players meeting on grass.
Even the uniforms. Wimbledon is the only tournament where officials really look like officials.


2012, the year when Wimbledon sank like Atlantis in a stormy night coupled with an earthquake and a tsunami.

It started well enough, but during the first week, the Wimbledon i used to watch so many times got shut down, and they somehow started a new tournament. It vanished overnight, as if it never had been there, and the ruins left stared back at me when i opened Tennis TV the next day: there it was. Wimblahdon.

Wimbledumbdon. Wimbledamp. Maybe even Wimbleswamp? I'm not taking any credit for those names (chuckle). I will add the approbiate link for the blog of the genius who found all those new names for ex- Wimbledon at the bottom. Credit where credit is due.

Roger Federer won Wimblechdon. Really? At first, i thought it must have been @pseudofed. I mean, why would Roger even want to win Blahdon? Should have handed it to Andy Murray on a silver plate. At least, this would have made some sense to me.

Maybe this is not really a blog- its a swan song. Good- bye, Wimbledon. We had some good years. I enjoyed them a lot. I enjoyed them in sunshine and rain. I enjoyed watching the greats on grass. When umpires were judges, when linesmen (and women) could actually see the lines, when players were the gladiators, when good ol' tradition was good ol' tradition- yes, we know its silly. But its tradition.

Nothing is for eternity. Time to move on. Time for a disrooted tennis heart to find a new home.

 New balls, please.

And the prize for Blahdon goes to: click me

The desire....to be an umpire

Rejoice, oh Rivendell!

Forgive me the quick side- trip to the 'Lord Of  The Rings'- what i want to write about, this time, is what i seem to have neglected for a while.

Not the Lord Of The Rings, but The Lord Of The Tennis Balls.

When i was about 14 years old, i was a member of the Hockey & Tennis club in my hometown.

No, thats not me. But you get the picture.

Don't ask for my talent. It was basically nonexistent. But one day, i was asked to umpire a match played by 10 year olds. You have to understand that this was a loooong time ago. In a very small and very exclusive tennis club, i might add (as far as i know, no future champion ever came out of that place either). There was no such thing as a hawk eye. No line judges. When the one in the chair said the ball was out, it was out. We were all well educated children, of course. We did not argue with umpires. You still had the chance though to hit him or her on the nose afterwards (out of sight of any grown- ups).

And even if it was a long time ago, i very well remember the feeling of climbing up the ladder into that chair.

The moment i was up there, i looked around and found that the world, my world, all of a sudden- had changed. The place looked so small. The children holding their tennis rackets looking up- up!- to me with expectation. They even looked a bit frightend. They had never seen me there before, and didn't know what to expect.

Maybe at that moment, i suddenly left the world of children. Something happened to me up there. I had always been a bit of a shy child, restrained even- i had an older brother you know.

But the moment i sat down on that chair, it felt like i had just been crowned. This pathetic little grass court glistening in the sunshine became my kingdom. This was my moment. My rules. My commands.

It had something magical.

I don't remember how long that match lasted. Not very long, probably. But every moment of it, every 'OUT!' shouted by me with an authority i hadn't known it even existed inside of me, every 'time!'- maybe every single score i called has been burned into my mind. When i close my eyes, i still see myself sitting on that magical chair. I was a different person that day, and i was never the same when it ended. I had changed forever. I had entered the world that was outside of my childhood cocoon, i had opened a door and closed it behind me.

Dramatic, is it not? You might be relieved to hear that nobody hit me on the nose afterwards- or then, maybe not. Tennis umpires don't have an easy life, you know.

Nowadays, i watch a lot of tennis. Maybe because of my own childhood experience, i watch the umpires more than most people do. I know what they feel. Of course, when you do that for many years, and even as a professional, umpiring the big tournaments- some of what I felt, at the age of 14, might fade a bit, with time.

But it never fades completely. I know that every tennis umpire out there, the moment he sits down in his (or her) chair, feels at least a part of what i felt the first time. The stadium. The people. The atmosphere, the moment to say 'time'. I didn't have a microphone, i had to shout that. And i felt that atmosphere- and the tension- even with only some parents watching. How must it be with thousands watching? And knowing that millions are sitting in front of their TV screens watching?

I leave that to your imagination. But the next time you want to punch a tennis umpire on the nose, remember that for him, this is a magical place. He (or she) is not the same person you meet in the next pub. He is the ruler of his kingdom. The Lord of his castle. His word is law, and it has to be. Now we have hawk eyes and line judges and everything, and it makes the work of an umpire easier, but still- when he makes a mistake, it is his mistake. He can't point his finger to someone else. And the next day it will be on youtube.


So it can also be a very lonely place. But still- its only a metallic structure, with a seat placed on top of it, but for an umpire, from the moment he climbs up to the moment he climbs down, it is a different world. A la- la- land. A fantasy land. Addictive and frightening at the same time.

Maybe you should try it yourself one day.

The Winter Boredom Blog Part II

Hello again!



So this is part 2. I will probably write more parts- this winter is really boring, so far.


I have been watching a lot of youtube videos lately, and also read a lot of comments. Aside from the usual drivel, and there is a lot of drivel, the most drivel is about a very sensible and controversial topic: religion.

Obviously, it depends on the country you come from, as some are worse than others. Now, please, don't 'freedom of religion' me.

Article 18

Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.

Where does it say: you have also the freedom of condemning everyone who is not believing in what you are believing in, and tell them they will go to hell?

Hell must be a terrible overcrowded place. I don't think i'd get a ticket even if i wanted one. Ok i'm making fun of that now, but if you are one of those who believes you can go to hell for your 'sins', you already have a big enough problem. Maybe i can manage to cheer you up a bit.

There is that 17- year old on youtube who told his family that he was gay and received a letter from his grandmother, telling him that he would- you already know what is coming now, don't you- go to hell. For being gay. Excuse me????
Well, as he already booked the flight, he might as well have lots of fun with being gay before. He can probably (just to make sure) spend some time on writing up a pleading of defense.


I'm a spiritual person. And yes, i do 'believe in God'. I just happen not to believe in self- proclaimed prophets, self- righteous missioners and hell recruiters.

Maybe, in one religion, you will go to hell for a certain sin, while in another, its quite acceptable. Who is right then? This is actually an interesting topic. You can find this principle everywhere. Just take a look into sports forums.
Your favorite will do something you don't like, but you will find a good excuse, i'm sure you will. You will find a way to make it acceptable for you. Another one will do the same, but this time, you are going to condemn him. He will go to hell, for sure!

Never, ever talk at the theater.


I know there are enough people out there who believe in that principle. I got bad news for you, guys.
If most of your moral conception comes from being 'good' so that you don't go to hell- this is futile. You will go anyway, you know.

Don't worry though. I will be there to cheer you up.


Ok lets get serious for a moment. It is not my intention to make fun of, or insult, anyone because of his belief. It is my intention, though, to make fun of- and even insult if approbiate for me- anyone who tries to force his belief on others.
And when a grandmother tells her 17- year old grandson he will go to hell for being gay, here is where the fun stops. Any kind of moral blackmail is where the fun stops.

See what i mean? Don't do that, ever. Just don't. No matter what you believe in, no matter what kind of religion you have. Take my advice, or you will go to hell.

See what i did here? Um......if there is a place like hell, its overcrowded for sure, and people who tell others they will go to hell if they do this or that or not do this or that must be the inhabitants. Its the only way i can imagine it.

Meaning i won't have a ticket. Now thats a shame.



See you soon, guys!

The Winter Boredom Blog

Rejoice, oh Tennis- and Formula 1 fans! We are finally going into the winter break.

I admit i haven't watched a lot of F1 this year. It was a great season when you are a fan of Sebastian Vettel, but i happen to be a german Ferrari- fan. I'm in the desert.

Nice place, ain't it.

Oh well. I decided to follow tennis more closely this year, only to find that my favourite player was more or less (with some exceptions) outplayed by someone i don't particularly like. 

McFalls' Maxim
No degree of acceptance can ever change the facts.
Translation: You may come to terms with being screwed, but nevertheless you're still screwed.

And i haven't even come to terms with that. I have been screwed, in more than one aspect, and the hell i will 'come to terms with that'.

But i also collected some 'funny' facts over the year i'd like to share with you. Not everything was bad. Some things were worse.

Hunter's Corollary to Murphy's Law:
Things always go from bad to worse.

Oh yes- where was i?- ah, the fun.

Like reading Roger singing Hosiannah over his devine self day in, day out. Or Djokovic crawling out of an egg, and being hooked up on a Scientology machine. Hamilton developing an inferiority complex over his team- mate Button and trying to overcome this by crashing into Felipe Massa every other race. Massa ready to start a fist fight trying to overcome his own inferiority complex against Fernando. Christian Horner developing into a public hate figure for everyone, including a certain amount of Red Bull- fans (are there any?). Sutil throwing around glasses and 'accidentally' hitting someone else with that.

By the way, has anyone found out yet why? I wonder...i do have an idea though. Leading me to the ultimate point of having 'fun' in a year like this one.

Have you ever asked yourself- just for fun, of course- if there are actually some gay guys in tennis or F1 hiding in the closet?

Is that important? Well, maybe for Sutil...frankly, i don't give a rats ass about Sutil. 

If there are, they are all wearing beards (for your information: a 'beard' is a wife or girlfriend presented to the outside world by a man in the closet to demonstrate he is not). Anyway- is it important? This blog is not called the Winter Boredom Blog for nothing, see.

From the statistics: 10- 20% of all married men in their 40ies are actually gay, and on their way to come out with that. Some after having been married for more than 10 years. Are you a woman, and married? Well...

I have read that there are certain suspects. What you will mostly hear then is 'can't be, he is married' or 'can't be, he has a girlfriend'. Wrong. Yes, it can be anyway. Is it important? No (unless its someone with quite a lot of female fans who will all start crying over that).

Aren't we proud of living in a world where sexual preferences don't matter any more?  Do you detect some sarcasm here?

Imagine you are a gay man, and your reputation, your public persona, your career, everything you have achieved in life depends on your appearence of being a straight guy. You did your best, but what if you'd get tired, one final day, of pretending? 

You will all end in hell anyway, you know.

Great place. I might apply for a job. I'm really good at faning the flames.

I challenge you. Can you find the man with the beard? I'll not say any names. I found him, but i can't say there is anything funny about it. What is funny, though, is to observe selective perception from journalists and public (fans) alike.

Our brain works that way. It filters out everything that does not fit into our 'belief'. Or, in our wishes. Or, into 'what everyone is saying'. We can see trees but will miss we're in a forest. Find the man with the beard! And good luck...

A brief history of time

This is not about Steven Hawking and the universe, though its tempting for me to write about that. But for now, my focus will be on more mundane things: the phenomenon called Rafael  Nadal.

Rafael Nadal just won his 6th French Open trophy, tieing with Björn Borg's record, his 10th Grand Slam, and his 6th win over Roger Federer in a final in a row. No disrespect to Roger, but he pulled out of Halle stating his 'groins need rest'- now thats some stuff for bad jokes. It must hurt after having been kicked into a sensible spot....


When i started watching Rafa in earnest back in 2007, which was already quite late in his career, my first impression was: this guy is not human. He's a machine.

A young lad with an incredible defense and shooting spinning forehands like a machine gun. At that time, tennis for me was what Roger did; or Björn Borg in my youth. I didn't quite know what it was that Rafa did- tennis it was not. It was a combination between a machine gun and a  brick wall. Whatever his opponents where throwing at him, he just brought it back. I saw even Roger Federer getting inevitably frustrated with that at times. Serve and volley? Well, you could try- if you got that far. Most of the time, his opponents did not.

In 2008, Rafa won Wimbledon for the first time in another final against Roger. It was some 5 hour match that lasted into the dark, and Roger fought like his life depended on it, but so did Rafa. I watched it live and its one of the matches you never completely forget. Rafa turned me around that day; i decided to ignore my impressions that this was not really tennis and became a dedicated follower.

Around that time, going into 2009, i realized Rafa's game was starting to change. It became more varied, more complex. He won his first Australian Open in the beginning of 2009, and my impression was he had been trying to adept his technique more to the hardcourts; at the same time, he became more vulnerable on his favourite surface, clay. And that wasn't all. I think the changes in his overall technique also caught up with his knees, and was partly responsible for the long injury break later in the year.

In 2010, he came back like a sandstorm- or a claystorm rather- winning everything on clay and collecting trophies like a crazy magpie, culminating in his first win of the US Open trophy. To achieve that, he also had to change his serve, and it took another toll on him: developing shoulder problems. He had to give that up rather quickly, resulting in upcoming losses and a dark figure emerging from the background nobody really expected: Novak Djokovic.

Rafa lost 4 finals against him- still fighting fatigue for several reasons, an injury from the Australian Open, and a fever he caught in Doha. And with that, he went into this year's French Open.

Would you have counted on him? Maybe, but i did not. Rafa needed 5 sets against John Isner in the first match, and i was beginning to fear this time it would be all too much for him.

In the top 10 of tennis, its a war out there. A psychological war. Andy Murray is a good example of what will happen to you when you're not up to the challenge. In one of his interviews during the tournament, Rafa suddenly had a rare outburst (rare by his standards); he complained about the ATP, the schedules, the ranking system. Saying he was getting tired of talking against walls in the councils. Tired of getting told 'this will all need time' after he was getting this answer for years now. Tired of the thought he might be doing this all for future players, but that he himself would never benefit from necessary changes.


He came into 2011 with quite a lead in points that should have secured his No.1, the number he fought so hard for, for a longer time. But the ATP rules how they are now, allowed Djokovic to catch up with him rather quickly. He was facing the fact that almost no matter how far he would go in this tournament, even with winning it, his No.1 could be gone. And a resigned sounding Rafa said: "i know its already gone, so there's nothing i can do". And it showed in his game, when he allowed opponents to push him back behind the baseline, opening the court for any kind of attack.

One person can only do so much. Suddenly i understood this was part of the problem. In this moment, i realized that Rafa was wasting precious energy on things he couldn't change. Roger has done that for years now, but he's a different kind of personality. For Rafa, this was sucking his energy out of him like a vampire delighting in his blood.

And i thought: Rafa has to give that up. He can't change the world, or the 1000 years of dust in the ATP that is reigned by old men. What he can do is go back to concentrating on his game, and he has to make a decision: either waste more energy on things he can't change, or forget about that and do what he does best: make other players think they're in the game until they realize its already over.


And for some reason i don't know, in the end Rafa decided exactly for that. When facing Soderling, i caught the first glimpses of the Rafa i know. Against Murray, he got into trouble here and there, but when he fell to his knees at the end of the match, with a look like he couldn't quite believe himself he had come that far with the way he started, i knew that with an extraordinary effort i can't quite explain he had pulled himself out of a deep hole by his own hair.


Lots of articles have been written about this final against Roger Federer, and i'm not delusional enough to believe i could do a better analysis. So i just want to describe the moment that for me was the deciding moment.

At 2:1 in the 4th set, Roger was to serve for 2:2, the cameras caught a close shot from Rafa's face. And he was looking at his opponent with what i call 'the look'. Roger, hesitating for a moment, looked back, and then averted his eyes. For me, the fascinated armchair expert, this was the moment when Roger finally understood he was not going to win this. Again. He had fought like a lion, there has been no shame in that loss, he actually won some of my respect back he lost over the years in this tournament.


His first service of the 4th set was the last game Roger won this time. Rafa went for the kill. And when he served for the match and the trophy at 5:1, all of a sudden the sun broke through the clouds as if the Gods were smiling at him, bathing the court in golden evening sunlight. It was so pathetic. Had i seen this in a movie, i would have called it an overdone script. And when he had 3 matchpoints at 40:0, Rafa's eyes filled with tears. Probably causing him to need three attempts (one let) to bring the ball into play.

And then it was over in a rush. One strange return from Rafa, almost on his knees already catching a flat ball on the line with a doubledhanded backhand, and a mishit from Roger sending the ball over the baseline directly beside Rafa's still bowed knees.

He didn't have to fall deep for kissing the clay of Roland Garros because he was already very close. And while Rafa bowed to the court that has made him the old and new King of Clay, the crowd stood up and gave not only Roger, but also him standing ovations. The french crowd. The parisian crowd. Miracles do happen sometimes.


I have seen Rafa making history several times in those 4 years. But this years French Open is another one that will stay in my memory. To have the privilege to see him fighting the world including himself, going through ups and downs on a rollercoaster of emotions and still coming out like a blazing fire of sheer will, is something i will cherish forever.

I would like to close this blog with the final words of John McEnroe who interviewed Rafa after this win and who had tears in his eyes when he said it:

"Keep it up and just keep playing, Rafa. Thanks a lot."

Reaction of women's hormone level to vibes in male voices

Now wait. This is a sport's blog, remember?

So what has this to do with sport????

Well i will come to that later. Looking up my notes (the one i made about some 30 minutes ago, to be exact) i saw that after my own personal experience in the last 2 days, i wanted to make a research on that. Always good to turn experience into knowledge. You never know what it might be good for.

After skimming several articles and forum posts, i found out about the following interesting aspects ( i'm adding sources at the bottom of this post, don't want to be sued for plagiarism):

- When a woman and a man out on a first date make small talk, their “antenna” for sex appeal isn’t focused on what the person is saying, but on how they’re saying it.

- Women prefer deeper, more masculine voices. The pitch of the man’s voice is also related to how much testosterone the man had at puberty; women pick up on these testosterone cues on a subconscious level. 

- The males of other species develop deep voices to attract women and to intimidate other men. It is possible the human male voice developed for the same reasons.

 [Just for the record, not really important for my view on things: after giving birth, women prefer men with higher voices around them. They aren't ready for another encounter- yet.]

If you're a man, you might be interested to read this, from a woman's posting in a body-builder forum:

'I don't care so much how the guy looks- just have a deep, vibrating voice, turn out the lights and i'm ready!' Now really...

- Guys will be delighted to know that there are bloke-centric websites with discussion forums for voice improvement and how effectively they can be used to attract members of the opposite sex. "A man with a low-octave baritone only has to speak one line to draw my attention. With a fine accent, it can sound very sexy," says Pallavi, a student of art.

Men are definitely having it too easy. All you need is to develop a low bariton and women will come and lie at your feet??? Thats just not fair, come on.

Well, draw your own conclusions. I'm certain its not the only thing. If you are a guy and have a voice like a mouse on a bad day, get rich. That helps too.

Well, back to the question of what this has to do with sport. It has actually, with Tennis, precisely. For two days in a row i received what i would call 'an overdose of  pheromones through voice'. In other words, i didn't have to sniff on the guy to feel 'high'. I just listened.

For quite some time, i have asked myself how some man's voice over the TV (or livestream) can make half of the women listening faint and the other half wanting to have a child from the guy. Or the other way round. Or both. Or whatever. Not that the man in question is not attractive- but that is not what the girls in the forums are talking about. Only the voice. I'm beginning to understand.

If you are a woman- to you, this man's voice says: 'get ready'. Well it actually uses another word, but since i don't know if you are over 18....well i suppose you get the idea. And what he is really saying are just numbers. Yes, numbers. And we women can become the victim of such a voice faster than you can say supercalifragilisticexpiallydocious (hello Mary Poppins, btw). What can we do??

I have a bad message for you, girls. Nothing. This is something out of our control. To know about something doesn't automatically give you a choice. Its a hormone thing, and you can't escape. Should you ever fall for a guy who is treating you badly, has a notebook with girls names as thick as an encyclopedia and hates his mother just because he has a 'low bariton'....well at least you will know why.

To come to an end, i would like to present an example of the 'low bariton'. Just to make myself clear, i cannot be held responsible for possible female reactions like fainting, tearing clothes off, or running to the next store buying a kilo of chocolate ruining the diet.

Some of my sources for the research:

http://www.kaobie.com/2010/06/deep-male-voice-strong-attraction/
http://nikadon.com/women-prefer-men-with-deeper-voices/
http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2010-09-08/man-woman/28272550_1_voice-body-language-singers
http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/body/articles/lifecycle/teenagers/voice.shtml