Though I have little time tonight for kvetching or clowning around, I’m checking in to remind you of the importance of lucky sock preparedness. By which I mean, if you own a pair of lucky socks — and of course I do — you also have a duty to make sure they’re always clean and at the ready. Mine, which are mostly reserved for key tennis matches (and the occasional GI appointment), will be carefully placed atop my dresser not too long from now, once I’ve completed my pre-bedtime rituals; they’re needed in the morning for the women’s semifinals at Roland-Garros.*
Coco Gauff and Iga Świątek will be first on Chatrier. Smart money tells us that Gauff, winner of only one of their many previous meetings, doesn’t stand much of a chance. But oddsmakers were also confident that Aryna Sabalenka and Elena Rybakina would breeze through their respective quarterfinals today and instead they were bounced by Mirra Andreeva, a 17-year-old Russian who ejected her mom from the stands mid-match, and Jasmine Paolini, a 28-year-old Italian late bloomer who looks about 14.
There’s a lot more on the line for Świątek, a three-time French Open champion who has won back-to-back titles in Paris, than there is for Gauff, and we should expect the American to ruthlessly capitalize on any nerves or hesitation that might temporarily grip her opponent. She doesn’t care about all the bagels and breadsticks Świątek’s served these last two weeks; her spirits are buoyed by how close Naomi Osaka came to ousting her.
Ahead of that enthralling second-round match, I told Best Friend “Osaka/Świątek is my big Jessie Spano ‘I’m so excited, I’m so scared!’ moment of the tournament.” He thought Świątek would easily win and instead she almost lost. Tomorrow might well be a blowout, the latest in a long line of Iga’s Bakery jokes, but as we saw in today’s WTA matches, as long as you show up you have a chance. I’m again both excited and scared.
* Those include flossing (and sometimes soaking myself in Waterpik mishaps), brushing and rinsing; face-washing and moisturizing; general moisturizing; hair-brushing; making (and immediately forgetting) a mental note to use WD-40 on the guest bathroom’s closet door; tossing whatever clothes I just shed down the laundry chute; popping stomach pills and an extended-release Sinemet; and changing my pillowcase every other night because, like Margaret White, I have a fear of dirty pillows.