Another congrats to Ash Barty for her French Open win. In a few I’ll turn on the Thiem v Nadal match. The Spaniard is the clear favourite here, so I’m sticking with Rafa to hoist the trophy once again as the dominate clay court specialist.
On the racing side my Lucky Number 7 horse, Sir Winston, won in New York yesterday. Not that I gamble or bet, I just play in my head, but absolutely would you have seen me jumping up and down as the handsome jockey on 7 made a power move to the near outside to glide past the two expected winners.
That was fun. I texted JB, who got me into watching, and got a ‘badda bing’ response back. And with that, yesterday closed Belmont’s 151 years of horsing tradition until 2020.
Before the 6:45 race, I took myself out to dinner to the renowned neighbourhood Greek restaurant, whose doors opened promptly at 5 to a queue of us waiting outside, and by 5:05 the place was packed.
I kept it real and simple: Chicken souvlaki and tzatziki paired with retsina wine. It was what I wanted all throughout the day. Had the meal been smaller, I would have added kalamari. But given the plate size, I was told souvlaki would be enough. And it was. Kalamari will have to wait. Bonus, my bar seat was next to the kitchen, and each time the door swung open a hint of fireplace wood smell breezed my way. I felt like I was home in Ekali again.
Besides tennis, my only agenda for the day is to stay out of trouble and maybe take a drive east to see what’s going on in the world that lives by ocean. Until then it’s a tank top, bedhead and Roland Garros.