#HomeTownBlues, #NQLoveCrisis
Having missed the last flight out of Brisbane due to the long running final, I needed to be on the 6a.m. to Sydney and head straight on site to Homebush. Twelve months to the day from when I worked my first event, I wheeled my suitcase into the press room, checking in with the girl who had replaced me as Tim’s assistant. As a WTA representative, I controlled the access to the players, even if that control was only an illusion, and I was the one to milk for valuable information. Last year I had been a shitkicker, now I could kick the s**t – only a small amount of s**t, but s**t nonetheless.
Tim Waters sat in his makeshift office. The tournament had built him a cubicle to validate his position as press director. Tim granted audiences in his office to the journ
