I don't care that he's old enough to be my son, Rafael Nadal is the chocolate mousse with Oreo cookie crust of Tennis--so delicious I can barely stand it. Dish has supported him (not literally because I'm really not his mother--the genetics don't work out--and I don't have that kind of money) for a couple years now. Yesterday, he played for three hours with a sore knee, which was so like the time I had to walk home during the August 2003 blackout. Hours of grueling pain and fumbling in the dark. We're with you, Rafael. Bless you and your sweaty headband.Dish loves Maria Sharapova, too, mostly because she seems like a diva and won tonight's match without blinking. She is so the girl who ignored me in high school (whom I secretly worshipped). What are the odds that she, like the Williams sisters, will become an actress?
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