Well the career will last for another 48 hours. That's how long I've got to savour my win. Three sets on the unforgiving terre battue at Roland Garros.
It went on for ages but I prevailed 7-5 1-6 6-0. Not quite sure what happened in the second set. I remember saying to myself stay solid and I promptly lost my opening service game to go 0-2 down.
Managed to get to 1-3 but it went cataclysmic after that. Obviously there was some regrouping for the final set. I just remember saying move your feet and that worked.
My opponent Stéfan missed a few shots that he'd been making in the second set. And that was the difference. He was generous in defeat and I was gracious in victory to the point of remonstrating with him that he didn't play a really stylish forehand crosscourt.
He said he didn't have the confidence to do so. Shame, I said, because when it suddenly emerged in the third set I thought I was playing a Spaniard.
We've exchanged cards and might well do some hitting down at his club on the southern fringes of the city.
I walked around fairly gingerly at the office afterwards. I watched a bit of the Anna Chakvetadze Shahar Peer quarter final at the US Open.
Now they really walloped the ball. I looked on enviously.
Maybe Thursday night's yoga class can help me become as one with the ball.
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