Canon's Diary

Saturday, July 5th.

This morning I slept in until around 8 o’clock. The sky was beautifully clear. For breakfast, I had mildly seasoned fried rice. I’d decided to take it easy today.

I turned on the TV and watched a recording of the 2025 Roland Garros French Open final—Carlos Alcaraz versus Jannik Sinner. Since it was an epic five-set battle lasting over five hours, I didn’t watch every point with rapt attention. Instead, I let the cheers and commentary play in the background while I did some laundry and tidying up, occasionally glancing at the screen. Still, whenever there was a spectacular shot, I couldn’t help but let out a cry of delight. There are moments in today’s cutting-edge tennis that truly take your breath away. The power and consistency of the shots have clearly evolved. Players now use the court in an even more three-dimensional way, unleashing heavy, high-bouncing topspins, or taking the ball early and driving it flat from above shoulder height. Mixed in are rising shots and delicate drop shots—it’s remarkable to watch.

Once I finished tidying up, I made soba using kakiage tempura I’d bought at the supermarket. As always, I added pork, cabbage, green onions, and some carrots. The broth was a light soba sauce with bonito stock. This is the flavor that always puts me most at ease.

I spent the afternoon in a calm, absentminded sort of way. I sat back in my reclining chair and closed my eyes. With the air conditioner running, the windows were shut, so I couldn’t hear much from outside. Still, the faint, steady sound of the Hankyu Line trains passing by reached me. I took a deep breath. It felt good. I was truly relaxed.

My wife called my cell phone. Because my father’s bank account had been frozen, some of his contracts that were set up for automatic withdrawal couldn’t be paid, and bills had arrived at the house. My mother was surprised by the unexpected notices, so I explained the situation to my wife and asked her to handle it. She called me twice more after that. It seems she’s taking care of various procedures for changing the account names. I feel sorry for relying on her so much, and living separately in Tokyo and Osaka is inconvenient at times like this. I wonder how much we can sort out during my next trip back home. Still, I’m grateful my wife is handling things.

At 8 tonight, I have a tennis lesson booked. I haven’t been moving my body much lately, so I plan to sweat just enough to count as rehab. For dinner, I’ll keep dinner light with some tomato soup and bacon and eggs.

I imagine that match at Roland Garros was probably watched by the very generation that had me so captivated—Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. I wonder how they felt seeing it. I remember watching their Wimbledon finals, or the Australian Open, hugging my knees in front of the TV, hands sweating as I stared at the screen. Those days feel so nostalgic now. If it were Nadal in his prime on clay, I still believe he’d be stronger than Alcaraz or Sinner today.

I want to keep believing that.