Wimbledon Page #3

No, no, no, that's not fair.|Many times I make you laugh.

No, I'm laughing at you, not with you.

Somebody wants you.

- I think I'll...|- I think you will too.

- Now, that was quite funny.|- Yeah, I know.

Hey, get some rest tonight.|I don't want to win too easily.

What with you and that,|what is it, bad knee?

- I have a little confession to make.|- Oh, God.

When you walked into my room|the other day,

I knew exactly who you were.

- You did?|- Mm-hm.

I saw you play Tommy Haas|at the Lipton last year.

- Oh, sh*t.|- [giggles] Yeah.

You were ahead|but you totally fell apart.

Yeah, as I recall a ball girl|couldn't get out of the way of my serve.

You gallantly carried her off the court.

I thought you were such a...

a**hole, to lose like that|when you were playing so beautifully.

But I couldn't get it out of my head.

I kept hoping I'd run into you, until|finally you walked into my hotel room.

Like a knight in shining armour,|perhaps?

- [chuckles]|- No.

Trouble is I'm the one|that needs saving.

Yesterday, I was losing...

and then I saw you watching.

This Year's Love]

[giggles] What?

Perhaps my first serve's|getting a little mushy.

This year's love, it better last

Heaven knows it's high time

I've been waiting

On my own too long

And when you hold me like you do

- It feels so right...|- Oh. Hey, look.

There it is, the comet.|See, with the little tail behind it?

- Hardly anything, is it?|- Barely moving.

We have to wish on it.

Did you wish on your next match?

Wouldn't work if I told you.

[giggles] Who are you playing?

- Good friend of mine, Dieter Prohl.|- A friend?

Then you should know how to beat him.|What are his weaknesses?

Um, sausages, Wagner,|men in leather shorts.

In his game? That's why I gave up|having friends in tennis.

You have to dig deep|to kill your friends.

- I have to kill him?|- Without thinking twice.

- I don't envy you.|- Why?

together, practically live together.

friend in the third round of Wimbledon?

Because that is killing him.

It's a bullet to the heart.

There's a winner and a loser.

one of you is going to be a loser.

[Peter grunts]

[horn]

[gasps]

Bloody pedals!

[horse-racing commentary on TV]

All right, Vij?

Where the hell are the men's matches?

Roddick lost to Jake Hammond, four sets.

Sh*t. What about Peter and Prohl?

- You didn't hear?|- No.

Straight sets, man. Peter decimated him.

- Sh*t.|- You bet against him again?

Yeah. He usually comes through.|He's been on such a good losing streak.

- Here, are you Peter Colt's brother?|- Possibly.

I've seen you in here,|watching the matches.

Yeah.

You could say tennis is my life.

- My passion's chat rooms.|- Really?

- Broadband.|- Of course.

[interviewer in adjacent room]

You may have humiliated the Kraut,|but you are not done with him.

We change your routine not one iota.

[Dieter]|I'm still your practice partner.

Thanks, mate.

Anyway, you know it was|a hell of a lot closer than the score.

A net cord or two|it would've been different.

Bullshit. You annihilated me. You...

You hit from the soul, the heart.

Something's happened to you.|Something else, something...

The girl in the taxi.|The end of the waving hand.

That's where the fire comes from,|admit it.

Dieter, listen...

do you think that in the middle|of a championship,

and the first time in years,|I'm actually winning,

I'd be dumb enough|to get involved with a woman?

Absolutely.

[beep]

You have eight new messages.

Well, aren't I popular?

[beep]

Well done!

before you start with us.

the ladies send their regards.

[laughs lasciviously]

[machine beeps]

[Lizzie] You were incredible today.

I'll call you later.

[machine beeps] Peter, remember me?

- [machine] It's your mother. I hear...

What did I always say about you?

I don't know. Remind me, Ron.

So cucumber, and cucumber. They forgot|to put the sandwich in my sandwich.

What you doing here?|You're not still my agent.

- What are you talking about?|- What am I talking about?

I called you a year ago and I'm still|waiting for you to call back.

Yeah, I'm into e-mails now.|I don't do the phone thing.

Ron...

that's a lie.

Yeah, it's a lie.|You want me to be honest?

Agents are not miracle workers.|We can't sell products that don't exist.

But you exist again,|so I'm back selling again.

You know, I genuinely despise you.

And you know what?|I really don't take it personally.

This could all be over by Monday.|Cavendish is a serve-and-volley guy,

you always play sh*t against him,|so let's capitalise now.

I don't want you to be the English guy|who beat his friend the German guy,

only to lose to the other English guy.

I want to make you some money.|Got a problem with that?

You have to cut your commission.

OK, that's a no-go area.|Everybody pays ten per cent.

Say five per cent,|or my next offer's four.

You know,|success has really changed you.

And I'm loving it. You got a deal.

Besides, I have a feeling|Cavendish is going down. Tea?

- I'd love some.|- Let's talk business.

Slazenger's having|a cocktail party tonight

and everybody's dying to meet you|for the very first time. All over again.

[music, chatter]

[fans clamour]

[cameras click]

- I'll call you.|- I'll ring you tomorrow.

Fine. Lizzie.

Ronnie. How're they hanging?

- Fine. And yours?|- Fine. Who's your new friend?

- You haven't met?|- I'm Lizzie.

- Peter. Peter Colt.|- The Peter Peter Colt?

- I've heard a lot about you.|- Nothing good, I hope.

That you're not afraid|to come to the net.

- I hear you're going to go all the way.|- Every chance I get.

If this works out, do I get the...

You can have ten per cent of our kids.

- You all right? You look beautiful.|- Thank you.

- You come along and play matchmaker?|- I'm sorry. I got excited by the math.

Let's talk over this Nike thing. She'll|be home before she turns into a pumpkin.

One day...

none of this will be ours.

Oh, no. A**hole incoming, four o'clock.

Lizzie, what's the deal? I've left you|like half a dozen messages.

Really? How about that.

- Hi.|- Do you know Peter Colt?

- We met...|- First round, San Jose last year.

Exactly. A memorable match.

Yeah. Which I, like, won.

Peter's in the quarters. Did you hear?

Wait a second... Are you screwing him?

- You know what...|- You are, aren't you?

- I don't believe this.|- Listen...

Whoa, what are you, Grandpa,|ranked like 120?

I thought they were all just rumours,|but you are a cheap little...

- Jesus, that really hurt.|- But you did it so well.

- [Jake] I'm fine!|- Night, Jake.

- Yes, don't get up.|- [Jake] Leave me alone. I'm fine!

That's the first time|I've ever hit anybody in my life.

[reporters and fans scream]

Lizzie? Lizzie!

- [yelps]|- Other side.

[photographers shout]

[tyres screech]

I've never had anyone|fight for my honour before.

I kinda like it.

- [Lizzie whoops]|- [horn]

- [Peter] You're not safe to be with.|- [Lizzie] Wait till you see me drive.

[gulls cry]

So, these are the wild streets|of my youth:

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