I sat down in my seat, feeling a little lonely because everybody around me were chatting to friends while I sat alone. I sure hoped that they shut up when the play began. I looked at my phone, no new texts. Of course there weren't. At this time Amy's party would just be beginning and a little part of me felt a little sad that I wasn't there even after everything that I had experienced here in Paris. I looked around the stadium, the mix of Spanish and Serbian colours. I couldn't help but resent everybody who was against Rafa. I knew who I'd be supporting.

Nadal came onto the the court first, looking as calm as could be expected before such a big match. He waved and lifted his racquet to thank us in the crowd who were cheering his arrival. Then Djokovic came on to just as much applause and support. They put their bags down and started their rituals. I knew Rafa's ritual almost off by heart having seen it so many times. The two bottles standing diagonally next to the chair. Take a drink. Unpack stuff, eat the contents of a tube of food. Rummage around in bag and wait until opponent gets up first for the coin toss before him. It was the same this time. They met at the net, Nadal clad in pink, Djokovic in dark blue. Djokovic to serve first.

Rafa won the first set with no real trouble although surrendering two breaks early on. He only made a few errors and made many more winners. 6:4

The second set was just the same, Rafa cruising while Djokovic seemed to struggle to get going. Near the end of the set he smashed a chunk out of his bench in frustration. 6:3

At the beginning of the third Rafa broke and to me, a straight sets victory seemed on the cards. But Djokovic broke back and as the rain got heavier Rafa struggled and Djokovic leapt upon his opportunity. I sat there in the cold and wet having forgotten to bring any kind of protection. It was a very bad set for me for those reasons. 2:6.

The fourth began with a break for Djokovic and a hold making it eight straight games for him. Rafa threw a sodden ball at the umpire to show him how unplayable it was but they played one more game which Rafa managed to pull out with some angry winners. Then play was suspended and I left the stadium seeking immediate refuge from the cold rain.

At eight o'clock play was officially suspended until the next day but even if it had begun again, I wouldn't have been able to see it all. My plane was set to take off at 10 PM because I had not foreseen the stop. I was extremely unsatisfied. Not only had I missed out on half of the final, but also the bit I had seen had been mostly rather one sided and rainy. The trip had not turned out as nicely as I had hoped. I got a taxi back to my hotel where everything was ready to go, me having been uncharacteristically organised and prepared. I did a quick check of my essentials. iPod, check. iPod dock, check. Tennis racquet, check. Mobile phone...no. I must've left it on the table in the bar after texting Amy to find out about how the party was going. Now I had to go all the way back, buy another taxi journey and waste valuable time.

"Shit shit shit." I muttered to myself. I briefly considered leaving it, the phone was not valuable but it had virtually my whole life on it.

I ran outside with my bags in tow and called a taxi. In effortless French I asked for a quick journey to Roland Garros. The charge was 20 euros, quite ridiculous but I was ready to pay the price for my phone. I thanked the driver, stuffed the money into his hands and ran to the bar to pick up my phone. They were actually closed and the cleaners were on the prowl but lost property was open and my beloved 3 year old phone was there. I hugged it tight and put it into my breast pocket before making flight again, my shoulders aching with the weight of the bags.

Running out from the exit leading directly into Paris I saw the man I least wanted to see but most wanted to see at the same time. And he saw me too, his face looking a little depressed. He was, of course, Rafa with his team going back to their hotel for the night. He said something to his team and they nodded, going ahead leaving Rafa there. He obviously wanted to talk to me.

"Oh no Rafa, not now!" I whispered to myself, not wanting to compromise my flight home. But my heart got the better of me and I went up to him where he was waiting.

"Hello Sophie, where are you going so fast?" He asked.

"I've got to catch a flight at the airport," I replied.

"Oh well I don't want to hold you up," he said, stepping aside for me to go. I shook my head despite my brain telling me to take him up on his offer.

"I reckon I've got a little bit of time." I said.

"Good," He smiled before a frown appeared on his face "So I suppose that you won't be here to see me play tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry Rafa but I can't miss this flight. It's the only chance I've got to get home." I told him apologetically. He seemed a different man from when I had seen him earlier, less confident and smiley. I guessed that he was extremely frustrated because of the recent changes of events in the match.

"I could buy you another for tomorrow?" He suggested.

"Rafa, you know I could never accept that from you. We only met today. And anyway, even if I did let you buy me tickets for tomorrow, I still don't have a place to sleep tonight." I exclaimed.

"I'd buy you a room for tonight as well. But it's just that I really need the support. And besides, maybe we could say that it's advanced payment for the tour of London that you are going to give me when I arrive for Wimbledon?"

"No, I cannot. I cannot let you spend your money on me like that. Thank you so much for the offer." I said to him, flattered at the measures he was going to to keep me here. I checked my watch, I had fifteen minutes to check in having completely lost track of the time.

"Do you know how far it is from here to Orly Airport?" I asked him