you and me, we're a facsimile

(or: something almost like comfort but not quite)

The boy crouched next to his grandpa, both of them shivering in the early winter breeze. He had never been so hungry or so scared, exhausted to the point of collapse from the constant running of the last few weeks. A short barreled black carbine was cradled in his thin, filthy hands. He stared with wide, teary eyes at the field beyond the barbed wire fence. A thin wash of snow is falling. He is 6 weeks shy of his 14th birthday. The old man’s mind was no longer sharp, but his fingers remembered the rifle. It had sat in a forgotten corner of his basement for decades, mostly untouched. An awkward block of wood and steel. Heavy but familiar. Steady. The man peered out at the approaching swarm, bent and scratched glasses perched on the tip of his frostbitten nose. He was well into his 8th decade.

They had run into the pack of shamblers at a small farmhouse just outside Rapid City and had not been able to lose them. The things weren’t fast, but they weren’t slow either, and the family had had been moving on foot nearly nonstop for 8 days, barely able to pause long enough to rummage through an abandoned house for food, or to check a vehicle hoping against hope that they could get it started. Six women, 4 kids and 3 men, slowly being ground down by a lack of food and rest and the increasingly bitter weather, followed by a group of diseased freaks who didn’t need to eat, or sleep, or seek shelter, and who would continue to stumble forward on blood blackened stumps long after their feet had been mashed to hamburger on the frozen ground. Scant hours before, one of the men who was using a bicycle to scout ahead in a small town had found salvation - - a van with a working battery and fuel in the tank. The starter was fried, but the man had been a shadetree mechanic before the collapse, and he was convinced he could replace it with one from a similar make and model just a few miles down the road. All he needed was a bit of time, a couple of hours at most. A hurried conference had ensued, and the extended family had split into 3 groups. Two would go ahead on the bicycle and start working on the van. Nine would continue towards the town, following the main road and staying in the treeline. The old man and the boy would stay behind and buy time, delaying the shamblers as long as possible before breaking contact and moving back towards the town, also along the main road, counting on being picked up by the van and the rest of the family. It was a good plan, but it was a cold, calculating plan. The boy would stay behind because he was far and away the fastest person left in the group. Everyone else had some combination of injury or fatigue which left them scarcely more mobile than the stumbling masses following them. The boy had the best chance of outpacing the shamblers and making his way to the rest of the family. And the old man? In the harsh logic of this harsh new world, he was the most expendable, and he knew it. Old and infirm, with a rapidly declining memory, a bad hip, and beset by a laundry list of medical conditions, it was only a matter of time before he was gone anyway. Unsaid was the fact that they shivering lad next to him was his first and favorite grandchild. He had volunteered to stay behind. There had been hugs, an exchange of worried glances and whispered good luck, and the family had parted. The grandfather and grandson had waited behind until the first straggling figures appeared over a nearby hill, and had then moved perpendicular to the main road, drawing the mass of creatures towards them and away from the town ahead. They moved for a few minutes, then rested for a few minutes, the distance between them and the staggering swarm steadily dwindling. Finally, too winded to move any more, they had crawled under a teetering barbed wire fence and slid into a shallow ditch between two fields, the boy tugging on the exhausted old man and helping prop him up against one of the posts. The two lay on the ground, wordlessly watching the shamblers grow closer, the boy unconsciously edging closer and closer to his grandpa until they were nearly lying on top of each other. The old man cradled his rifle, aware of his grandson’s proximity. Scared kids did that. They crowded you, wouldn’t listen when you told them to spread out so one shell can’t get everybody. Some primitive instinct he had both practiced and witnessed a long time ago. His grandson had only ever known him as a cheerful, chubby, white-haired old man who spent his days doddering about the house, busying himself with small projects or relaxing in his yard. None of his family had known about the rifle, and even his grown son was bewildered when his father had shown up at his house carrying it after the decision had been made to abandon the overrun city. His wife of 58 years had known about it, he supposed, but had also known enough to not ask, an unspoken agreement to ignore the heavy object sitting wrapped in an old GI blanket tucked into a corner of their basement. Truth be told, on more than one occasion she had gone looking for him in the middle of the night after waking up in an empty, cold bed. She had quietly slipped back up the stairs and to their room the few times she had found him sitting in the dark cellar, holding the rifle and staring at nothing, or crying huge, wracking sobs, shivering in the damp blackness. The next morning would find him whistling happily over a pot of coffee and the morning paper, cheerful as always, the demons satiated, oblivious to what had happened the night before. “Grandpa. Grandpa?” Hushed words hissed through blue-tinged lips. The old man turned slightly, rhuemy eyes focusing on the curly haired youth. “What now, Grandpa?” “Well, son, we’ll wait a few more minutes. Let them get a little closer. No rush. Corsairs should be on station pretty goddamn quick, we just have to hold ‘em up a little.” He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and squeezed, smiling warmly at him. The boy was shocked - - he had never heard his grandpa swear before - - but he smiled nervously back, shifting his gaze back across the field. Grandpa got confused sometimes, once had even showed up at their house just wearing his underwear. He loved him, though, loved him for his corny jokes and the twinkle in his eye and the way he always took time to listen, even when his own mom and dad were too absorbed in their own lives to make much time for him. They lay on the ground, shivering, watching the steady march of the rabid crowd across the frozen field. The old man adjusted his grip on the rifle. It’s just kids isn’t it? Always just a bunch of goddamn kids, and they’re all goddamn dying. He couldn’t even remember how many had died, first at the Naktong river, when he was just a terrified teenage draftee himself, then during the Pusan breakout and the long slog north and the horror show of Kunu-ri. He was a goddamn Staff Sergeant by then, believe that? No genius or hero, his main talent seemed to be that he had managed to not get killed in the preceding weeks. Not that you could tell rank at that point anyway. Dug in on an isolated backslope, bearded, skeleton thin, frostbitten and bundled in filthy rags, he had thrown his jammed, useless carbine down in the freezing mud, grabbing an M-1 from a boy who had been shot through the throat and was too busy drowning in his own blood to object. He had carried it for months, all the way to Bloody Ridge where a Chinese bullet had shattered his hip and ended his war. Field stripping the rifle and sliding it into his seabag as he was being evacuated onto a medical ship was the easy part. Pencil-whip a form TA-50 and the Garand was officially a ‘combat loss’, the nervous PFC clerk never thinking to question the sunken-eyed Sergeant First Class any further. Decades later, as civilization begins begins grinding to a rapid, wheezing end, a rifle is unwrapped in a basement, covered with dirt from a faraway land and the fingerprints of a dead, terrified boy-soldier. Bright cartridges are loaded into clips, a sling is oiled and snugged tight. Arthritic fingers can still do their tricks, and an enfeebled mind still remembers the mechanics of killing. More moments passed. “You remember where you’re supposed to meet your dad at, Toddy? Remember what direction the road is from here?” “Yeah, grandpa. Back towards that silo,” the boy points. “That’s right. I’ll let you know when it’s time for us to go, okay? You alright? We won’t be here very long, I promise.” “That’s a lot of them, grandpa, isn’t it? I’ve never seen that many at once before.” “It’s a lot of them, Toddy. Seems like it always is, son.” The old man turns away again, pulling his wool cap down further. It is snowing for real now, heavy crystals of ice skidding across the gray sky. Cold minutes passed. A boy is lying next to him. The boy who he had taken the rifle from, maybe? What was his name? Becker, or maybe Beckham? He should get it back to him. Good kid, no sense in him getting an ass-chewing from some brass for losing his rifle. He must have found another one, the little shit was at least holding tight instead of running away. Fuckit. Worry about matching serial numbers to forms if we get out of this one, you know? Goddamn, that’s a lot of gooks. Slogging forward like they’ve got all the goddamn time in the world. Shit and shit, and shit some more. Well, General Walker says we hold here, we goddamn hold here. The old man raised the rifle to his shoulder and rested bleary eyes on his sights, lining up a shot. Remember to squeeze, not jerk. “They’re close enough, son…” Breathe. Aim. Squeeze. The rifle roars, a blast of flame which instantly vaporized the skim of snow on the ground in front of them. A stumbling figure dropped. Another shot, and another shadowy form tumbles to the dirt. They continue onward, implacable, unconcerned as more fall to the ground, motionless. A growing pile of spent brass sizzles in the frost. The bolt locks open with a clack and the ping of an ejected clip, and the old man reloads with startling speed. He stops as he shoulders the rifle, glancing sideways at the boy. “Get that fucking rifle going, private! This isn’t a fucking one-man show! Where’s your grenades?! Set them in front of you like I taught you, you dumb sonofabitch! Won’t be time to go digging in your pockets if the gooks make a run for us!” The boy reacts in shock, begins to pull the trigger, shots spraying into the crowd, the dirt, the sky. More bodies stack in the field, replaced by endless throngs of grasping shadows. Over the thunder of the rifle and the chatter of the carbine the old man screams nonsense to people who are not there. “…Jenkins! Get that goddamn Browning up and running, TODAY motherfucker!” “…Corporal Davis, get the CO on the horn, tell him we’re ready for that fire mission and it’s going to be danger close!” “…Smith, take your team south, set up at the end of this defilade, tie in with Baker! I don’t want a single goddamn gook making it around that flank! Move it NOW!” The boy’s carbine is steaming in the frigid air. He fumbles a reload and begins to cry, undone by the noise and the fear and the man next to him who has turned into a howling stranger with madness in his eyes. The old man turns towards the boy, soot blackening his wrinkled cheeks. “Becker! Christ, son, they’re right on top of us, didn’t you see the flares? Fall back! I’ll cover from here, you get back and set up at the secondary. I’ll be right behind you. Do it now!” The boy stares, deafened and wide-eyed, snot and tears freezing on his cheeks. The old man grabs him by the back of the neck with crushing strength. “GODDAMMIT BECKER! Are you fucking deaf?! You move your ass back to the lines! That’s a GODDAMN ORDER son, you understand me!!” Something about the boys panicked eyes seemed to jolt the old man awake, and suddenly he is the soft, gentle soul who had taught his grandson to fish and play checkers, watched a toddler catch fireflies in his big back yard. Tears abruptly leaked from old eyes. “Oh, Todd. My Toddy, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love you kiddo. I love you all. Get to your dad and tell him that I loved you all, okay? You get along now. I’ll be right there. Tell the others not to wait for me, though, okay? I love you. Hurry.” A final squeeze on the shoulder and his grandpa turned away, shouldering the rifle once more, lost in some dark past. It roars in his hands. The boy looked back once as he ran, looked back as the old man slammed his last clip into the top of the old rifle and blazed away, dropping more of the staggering figures who had nearly reached the fence. He tripped over a stump, falling down hard on his butt, badly spraining his left wrist, then sat, staring through the swirling snow and chill fog. He could barely see as his grandpa crawled under the fence and rushed the swarming wall of infected, swinging the big rifle like a baseball bat. He was shouting something the boy couldn’t hear, then was lost in a pile of clutching monsters. The boy stood up, hesitated, then ran back towards the town, the cold air screaming in and out of his raw throat, and the words of his grandfather burning in his ears. THE END...

https://www.zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=113&t=119157

55 Hilarious Christmas Fails

We hope you had a pleasant Christmas and a wonderful holiday season! But sometimes, no matter how hard we try, the holidays can end up being slightly disappointing. Because they don’t live up to our expectations. Or the hype. Whether you’ve got the holiday blues or just need a good old dose of humor, we’ve got you covered.

Bored Panda compiled this mega-list of the very best Christmas fails and hilarious accidents that are sure to improve your mood and get your spirits up. After all, there’s nothing like a bit of laughter and comparing your situation to that of others to help you realize life isn’t as bad as it might seem.

So grab yourself a cup of hot choccy and some gingerbread cookies and start scrolling. Upvote the funniest pics and let us know in the comments why you liked them. Oh, and be sure to spread some Christmas joy around by sharing this post with your loved ones if you think they’ll enjoy it. Bored Panda spoke with Joshua Becker, creator of Becoming Minimalist, about managing expectations during the holidays, talking with children about the importance of giving vs. the importance of gifts, as well as how to make sure that you're not disappointed celebrating the New Year. Scroll down for the full in-depth interview.

We know you love Christmas fails, so when you’re done with this list, check out our previous one from the year before right here. It’s got some more great stuff that you’re bound to enjoy.

#1 Not Only Did Grandpa Already Have This Shirt, He Was Wearing It When He Unwrapped It

Image credits: BJK5150

#2 My Dad Made Me These "Decorative Trees" In His Workshop For Christmas

Image credits: Popecicle

#3 My Cousin Got A Drone For Christmas

Image credits: Rowdybob22

"I don’t think the trick is to “lower" expectations. Or at least, that’s not the phrasing I would use. It is important to keep “reasonable" expectations and to be clear on our goals for the season," Becker of Becoming Minimalist told Bored Panda. "All the commercials on TV portray these picture-perfect Christmas scenes with family and decoration and endless smiles. But that’s rarely reality."

"When we set reasonable expectations for the season (taking into account our family dynamics, limited budget, and available free time), we’re less likely to think perfect is even possible. And when we get clear on our most important goal for the season (whether that be faith-based, family-based, or personal-based), we are more likely to achieve it."

#4 When The Christmas Card Photo Shoot With The Sheep Goes Wrong

Image credits: mydogismysoulmate

#5 These Ho Ho Ho's On Wrapping Paper Are Confetti. There Are 1000 Little Ho’s All Over My House, There Are Ho’s On My Kids, There Will Be Ho’s Forever

Image credits: Destinee Gunnett

#6 We Left Some Christmas Decorations Out In The Driveway Last Night Which I Just Remembered When I Turned On My Car This Morning. I Just About Crapped My Pants

Image credits: seatonater07

We were also interested to know how we should help children understand that Christmas is about the spirit of giving, not about getting gifts. Here's what Becker had to say. "Most importantly, we change how we talk about the day and the season. As parents, it is so easy to unintentionally throw out phrases all December long like, 'Maybe you’ll get that Christmas… Let’s just put that on your Christmas list… Are you excited for presents this year… You need to be good so Santa will bring you presents this year.'"

"By the time Christmas day comes along, we’ve built up all these expectations about the number of presents our kids are going to receive. If you want your kids to learn Christmas is about giving, spend as much time talking with them about gift ideas they could give to others as you do talking about the gifts they might receive. Take them shopping with you for others. Let them see you being extra generous to other people throughout the season. And never let them see you complain about giving… only let them see experiencing and celebrating the joy of giving time, money, and gifts to others."

#7 My Cousin Was *wrapping Presents

Image credits: Doctor-B

#8 Merry Christmas!

Image credits: stargazingmanatee

#9 Marry Christmas!

Image credits: Himetora

Lastly, Becker gave us some good advice about how we should look at New Year's Eve and about starting 2020. "In many regards, January 1st is just another day. There is nothing particularly magical about the clock turning over to 12:00, other than the cheering and kissing and confetti."

"What a new year does provide is a natural time to reflect on the trajectory of your life over the last year and chart a new (and maybe better) direction for the next one. So celebrate that opportunity and make the most of it. No matter the external circumstances, whether you are with friends, family, or by yourself, you are in control of the next year of your life. New Year’s reminds us of that fact."

He added: "Also, stay in control of yourself on New Year's Eve. Have a good time, but don’t overdo alcohol, narcotics, or peer pressure. The last thing you want to do on December 31st is something you’ll regret on January 1st."

#10 Grandma Likes To Get Us Puzzles For Christmas. She Thought It Was An Elf

Image credits: mr_awesome365

#11 When You Have Your Kid Paint Wrapping Paper But It Ends Up Looking Like You Murdered The UPS Guy And Stole His Packages

Image credits: clearlybujo

#12 My Cat Got Stuck In The Wall On Christmas Day

The basement kitchenette ceiling was left open when it was built a few months ago so he climbed onto the cupboards and into the ceiling before falling into the wall.

This was at my mom's house and he was stuck for about 2 hours while we tried to figure out his exact location and cut a hole to release him. He is perfectly fine and even tried to go back in the hole!

Image credits: therealIndigocat

Whether it's a photo shoot gone wrong or your cat demolishing your Christmas tree again (damn you, Mr. Mittens! Never again!), some things are bound to ruin your mood, unless you try to see the funny side of the disaster.

While it’s impossible to avoid all holiday mishaps or to foresee your cat going all King Kong on your Christmas tree (I mean, who could have predicted that? Like, seriously, it was so unexpected), there are some things that we can do and some shifts in our perspective that we can make to avoid being seriously disappointed during Christmas-time.

#13 I Lost A Bet Tonight. I Bet My Wife The Tree Would Be Up 6 Hours Before The Cats Demolished It. They Waited For 7 Hours. Clean Up At 2 Am

Image credits: Jak_ratz

#14 When Your Parents Wrap Your Presents Last Minute

Image credits: Halogen_ic

#15 Brother And His Boyfriend, Maybe?

Image credits: memequeenbitch

Joshua Becker writes on Becoming Minimalist that even though the pace of the holiday season might be hectic and that we might feel that rushing around like a headless chicken seems to be expected of us, we have to do our best to slow down. That involves having fewer things to do and intentionally cutting out some errands. Be a fashion chicken, not a headless one.

Becker also notes that perfection is impossible. So you shouldn’t expect perfection even if it’s something you aim for. Your home will never be perfectly clean just in time for the guests to arrive. Your kids will never be fully satisfied with the presents they get, even if they love what they got. And there’s bound to be at least one minor argument in the family because of all the stress.

#16 Merry Christmas Everyone

Image credits: aggadoo

#17 I Put A Christmas Story Lamp In My Front Window And Not One Of My Neighbors Recognized It. Several Have Stopped To Ask Why I Have A “Weird, Gross Leg” On Display

Image credits: bdd1001

#18 Those "Reindeer"

Image credits: SomeDoge

That’s why it’s so important to find time to rest and recharge. Whether its a power-nap or sleeping in, you have to get your beauty sleep if you want to weather the holidays with a smile on your face. Recharging also includes snacking on biscuits and drinking hot choccy from time to time. After all, it’s hard to find the silver lining in disappointing situations on an empty stomach. 

#19 I Used Chocolate Bells Instead Of Kisses. Is It Me Or Did I Just Make Christmas B***s?

Image credits: 2olley

#20 My Mom Is Struggling To Comprehend Secret Santa

Image credits: proxima

#21 Christmas Ice Marbles Expectations vs. Reality

Image credits: pnw_smalls

#22 Paul Hollywood's Kransekake

Image credits: CheezyBob

#23 The Disappointment In My Face After Getting The Same Shirt I'm Wearing For Christmas When I Was 11

Image credits: NoMeGustav

#24 Went To The Office Holiday Party. Didn't Know Corporate Was Going To Be There

Image credits: alien005

#25 Closing The Oven Door With Your Foot Whilst Cooking Christmas Dinner

Image credits: cwipnip

#26 Christmas Tree Expectations vs. Reality

Image credits: mfslartz

#27 Our Stab At A Crescent Roll Christmas Tree. Pretty Sure It Looks Like A Dinosaur

Image credits: fckmarrykillme

#28 Buddy At Work Secret Santa Party Legit Just Got Gifted The Same Shirt He Is Wearing

Image credits: Dan_The_Salmon

#29 Isnt That Called Arson?

Image credits: MayMyEnemiesLiveLong

#30 My Wife And I Have A Tradition Of Picking Out The Ugliest Tree At The Tree Farm. This Year We Hit A Grand Slam

Image credits: Anxiouspitbull

#31 This Is How Well Our Christmas Card Photoshoot Is Going

Image credits: brimmycrumbtiny

#32 To Cook A Christmas Turkey

Image credits: PimplyMoose

#33 My Neighbors Christmas Spirit Is Bigger Than His Door

Image credits: patient_zero84

#34 My Boyfriend Said He Made Holiday Cookies

Image credits: radioflea

#35 Gift I Received. Wrapped In A Such A Way That It Appears As If Linus And Patty Are Getting It On In Front Of Marcie

Image credits: OllieUnited18

#36 Merry Christmas, Mom

Image credits: PlayStory

#37 Waking Up To This After Accidentally Leaving The Window Open. Merry Christmas

Image credits: jurjcan

#38 A Friend Of Mine Just Sent Me This. It Was The Christmas Dinner

Image credits: condefle

#39 “No Kids It’s Not Santa Just Uncle Jeff Trying To Get The Damn Tree"

Image credits: dowdspooka

#40 How My Neighbor's Christmas Decorations Are Connected

Image credits: Kiaragroves

#41 Merry Xmas From My Family To Yours

Image credits: BoobooBunnyFace

#42 Merry Christmas Eve, Y'all!

Image credits: friendlyyan

#43 This Basically Sums Up Traveling With Our Toddler. Merry Christmas

Image credits: bp_free

#44 Tom's 1st Christmas

Image credits: LittleMissKarma

#45 Spent Hours Making These Cupcakes And My Aunt Put Them In The Oven So They Were Out Of The Way, Yet The Oven Was On And They Melted

Image credits: cassisabadass

#46 Trying To Watch My Kids Christmas Concert

Image credits: SLIMv3n0m

#47 "I Don't Feel Like Messing With The Whole Tree, I'll Just Do One Of Those Wall Trees I Saw On The Internet"

Image credits: fromantis

#48 This Church Ad

Image credits: racenelson

#49 My Brother Fell From The Attic And Landed In My Room.

Image credits: Locopopa

#50 Opened The Wrapping On A Fancy New Book With A Pen. I Hate Myself

Image credits: JeffGoatMMIX

#51 We Tried

Image credits: kendrawilkinson

#52 Merry Christmas

Image credits: kreestar

#53 Dragged My Husband Christmas Shopping On A Hangover. He Was A Great Help

Image credits: insynco

#54 Got A Game For Christmas That Didn’t Even Have The Game, Parents Paid 60$ For A Plastic Shell

Image credits: Sillymarshmello

#55 Not Quite The Idyllic Festive Image I Had In My Head Of How Making Gingerbread Would Turn Out

Image credits: kathydwoo

#56 When Your Mum (Santa) Accidentally Writes Your Name On Your Little Brothers Christmas Present

Image credits: FPS_LIFE

from Funny – Bored Panda https://ift.tt/2MyCv0d via IFTTT from Blogger https://ift.tt/2soA75g

This post was inspired by Ally’s series (which was inspired by Lia at Lost in a Story).

It works like this

Go to your Goodreads to-read shelf.

Order on ascending date added.

Take the first 5 (or 10 (or even more!) if you’re feeling adventurous) books

Read the synopsis of the books

Decide: keep it or should it go?

Trial by Fire (Worldwalker #1) by Josephine Angelini

The exhilaratingly seductive new series from the author of the bestselling Starcrossed series

Love burns. Worlds collide. Magic reigns.

This world is trying to kill Lily Proctor. Her life-threatening allergies keep her from enjoying many of the experiences that other teenagers take for granted… which is why she is determined to enjoy her first (and perhaps only) high-school party. But Lily’s life never goes according to plan, and after a humiliating incident in front of half her graduating class Lily wishes she could just disappear.

Suddenly Lily is in a different Salem – one overrun with horrifying creatures and ruled by powerful women called Crucibles. Strongest and cruellest of all the Crucibles is Lillian… Lily’s identical other self in this alternate universe. This new version of her world is terrifyingly sensual, and Lily is soon overwhelmed by new experiences.

Lily realizes that what makes her weak at home is exactly what makes her extraordinary in New Salem. It also puts her life in danger. Thrown into a world she doesn’t understand, Lily is torn between responsibilities she can’t hope to shoulder alone, and a love she never expected.

But how can Lily be the saviour of this world when she is literally her own worst enemy?

Date added to TBR: Dec 06, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: I own this book!

♥

Half-Blood (Covenant #1) by Jennifer L. Armentrout

The Hematoi descend from the unions of gods and mortals, and the children of two Hematoi pure bloods have godlike powers. Children of Hematoi and mortals–well, not so much. Half-bloods only have two options: become trained Sentinels who hunt and kill daimons or become servants in the homes of the pures.

Seventeen-year-old Alexandria would rather risk her life fighting than waste it scrubbing toilets, but she may end up slumming it anyway. There are several rules that students at the Covenant must follow. Alex has problems with them all, but especially rule #1:Relationships between pures and halfs are forbidden. Unfortunately, she’s crushing hard on the totally hot pure-blood Aiden. But falling for Aiden isn’t her biggest problem–staying alive long enough to graduate the Covenant and become a Sentinel is.

If she fails in her duty, she faces a future worse than death or slavery: being turned into a daimon, and being hunted by Aiden. And that would kind of suck.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Eh, this premise no longer interests me.

♥

The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1) by Julie Kagawa

Don’t look at Them. Never let Them know you can see Them.

That is Ethan Chase’s unbreakable rule. Until the fey he avoids at all costs—including his reputation—begin to disappear, and Ethan is attacked. Now he must change the rules to protect his family. To save a girl he never thought he’d dare to fall for.

Ethan thought he had protected himself from his older sister’s world—the land of Faery. His previous time in the Iron Realm left him with nothing but fear and disgust for the world Meghan Chase has made her home, a land of myth and talking cats, of magic and seductive enemies. But when destiny comes for Ethan, there is no escape from a danger long, long forgotten.

My name is Ethan Chase. And I may not live to see my eighteenth birthday.

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: I honestly don’t remember why I added this to my TBR…

♥

Stay by Deb Caletti

Clara’s relationship with Christian is intense from the start, and like nothing she’s ever experienced before. But what starts as devotion quickly becomes obsession, and it’s almost too late before Clara realizes how far gone Christian is and what he’s willing to do to make her stay.

Now Clara has left the city and Christian behind. No one back home has any idea where she is, but she still struggles to shake off her fear. She knows Christian won’t let her go that easily, and that no matter how far she runs, it may not be far enough….

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: My reasoning for keeping all of these Deb Caletti book is the same – I own almost all of her books and am determined to read them all!

♥

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart by Deb Caletti

Right away I got that Something About To Happen feeling. Right away I knew he was bad, and that it didn’t matter.

It is summer in the Northwest town of Nine Mile Falls, and sixteen-year-old Ruby McQueen, ordinarily dubbed The Quiet Girl, finds herself hanging out with gorgeous, rich, thrill-seeking Travis Becker. But Ruby is in over her head, and finds she is risking more and more when she’s with him.

In an effort to keep Ruby occupied, Ruby’s mother Ann drags Ruby to the weekly book club she runs. When it is discovered that one of the group”s own members is the subject of the tragic love story they are reading, Ann and Ruby spearhead a reunion between the long-ago lovers. But for Ruby, this mission turns out to be much more than just a road trip….

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

♥

The Story of Us by Deb Caletti

Cricket’s on a self-imposed break from her longtime boyfriend—but she’s picked a bad week to sort out her love life. For one thing, her mother’s romance is taking center stage: After jilting two previous fiancés, her mom is finally marrying Dan Jax, whom Cricket loves. But as wedding attendees arrive for a week of festivities at a guesthouse whose hippie owners have a sweet, sexy son—Ash—complications arise: Cricket’s future stepsisters make it clear they’re not happy about the marriage. An old friend decides this is the week to declare his love for Cricket. Grandpa chooses to reveal a big secret at a family gathering. Dan’s ex-wife shows up. And even the dogs—Cricket’s old, ill Jupiter and Dan’s young, lively Cruiser—seem to be declaring war.

While Cricket fears that Dan is in danger of becoming ditched husband-to-be number three, she’s also alarmed by her own desires. Because even though her boyfriend looms large in her mind, Ash is right in front of her….

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

The Secret Life of Prince Charming by Deb Caletti

Maybe it was wrong, or maybe impossible, but I wanted the truth to be one thing. One solid thing. Quinn is surrounded by women who have had their hearts broken. Between her mother, her aunt, and her grandmother, Quinn hears nothing but cautionary tales. She tries to be an optimist — after all, she’s the dependable one, the girl who never makes foolish choices. But when she is abruptly and unceremoniously dumped, Quinn starts to think maybe there really are no good men.

It doesn’t help that she’s gingerly handling a renewed relationship with her formerly absent father. He’s a little bit of a lot of things: charming, selfish, eccentric, lazy…but he’s her dad, and Quinn’s just happy to have him around again. Until she realizes how horribly he’s treated the many women in his life, how he’s stolen more than just their hearts. Determined to, for once, take action in her life, Quinn joins forces with the half sister she’s never met and the little sister she’ll do anything to protect. Together, they set out to right her father’s wrongs…and in doing so, begin to uncover what they’re really looking for: the truth.

Once again, Deb Caletti has created a motley crew of lovably flawed characters who bond over the shared experiences of fear, love, pain, and joy — in other words, real life.

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

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He’s Gone by Deb Caletti

“What do you think happened to your husband, Mrs. Keller?”

The Sunday morning starts like any other, aside from the slight hangover. Dani Keller wakes up on her Seattle houseboat, a headache building behind her eyes from the wine she drank at a party the night before. But on this particular Sunday morning, she’s surprised to see that her husband, Ian, is not home. As the hours pass, Dani fills her day with small things. But still, Ian does not return. Irritation shifts to worry, worry slides almost imperceptibly into panic. And then, like a relentless blackness, the terrible realization hits Dani: He’s gone.

As the police work methodically through all the logical explanations—he’s hurt, he’s run off, he’s been killed—Dani searches frantically for a clue as to whether Ian is in fact dead or alive. And, slowly, she unpacks their relationship, holding each moment up to the light: from its intense, adulterous beginning, to the grandeur of their new love, to the difficulties of forever. She examines all the sins she can—and cannot—remember. As the days pass, Dani will plumb the depths of her conscience, turning over and revealing the darkest of her secrets in order to discover the hard truth—about herself, her husband, and their lives together.

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

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The Fortunes of Indigo Skye by Deb Caletti

I suddenly see where I’m standing, and that’s at the edge of change – really, really big change. Eighteen-year-old Indigo Skye feels like she has it all – a waitress job she loves, an adorable refrigerator-delivery-guy boyfriend, and a home life that’s slightly crazed but rich in love. Until a mysterious man at the restaurant leaves her a 2.5 million-dollar tip, and her life as she knew it is transformed.

At first its amazing: a hot new car, enormous flat-screen TV, and presents for everyone she cares about. She laughs off the warnings that money changes people, that they come to rely on what they have instead of who they are. Because it won’t happen…not to her. Or will it? What do you do when you can buy anything your heart desires — but what your heart desires can’t be bought?

This is the story of a girl who gets rich, gets lost, and ultimately finds her way back – if not to where she started, then to where she can start again.

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

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The Queen of Everything by Deb Caletti

“People ask me all the time what having Vince MacKenzie for a father was like. What they mean is, was he always crazy?” High school junior Jordan MacKenzie’s life was pretty typical: fractured family, new boyfriend, dead-end job. She’d been living with her father (the predictable optometrist) since her mother (the hippie holdover) had been too embarrassing to be around. Jordan felt that she finally had as normal a life as she could. Then came Gayle D’Angelo.

Jordan knew her father was dating Gayle and that Gayle was married. Jordan knew it was wrong and that her father was becoming someone she didn’t recognize anymore, but what could she do about it? And how could she — how could anyone — have possibly guessed that this illicit love affair would implode in such a violent and disturbing way?

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: “”

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Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms #1) by Morgan Rhodes (Goodreads Author), Michelle Rowen

In the three kingdoms of Mytica, magic has long been forgotten. And while hard-won peace has reigned for centuries, a deadly unrest now simmers below the surface.

As the rulers of each kingdom grapple for power, the lives of their subjects are brutally transformed… and four key players, royals and rebels alike, find their fates forever intertwined. Cleo, Jonas, Lucia, and Magnus are caught in a dizzying world of treacherous betrayals, shocking murders, secret alliances, and even unforeseen love.

The only outcome that’s certain is that kingdoms will fall. Who will emerge triumphant when all they know has collapsed?

It’s the eve of war…. Choose your side.

Princess: Raised in pampered luxury, Cleo must now embark on a rough and treacherous journey into enemy territory in search of magic long thought extinct.

Rebel: Jonas, enraged at injustice, lashes out against the forces of oppression that have kept his country cruelly impoverished. To his shock, he finds himself the leader of a people’s revolution centuries in the making.

Sorceress: Lucia, adopted at birth into the royal family, discovers the truth about her past—and the supernatural legacy she is destined to wield.

Heir: Bred for aggression and trained to conquer, firstborn son Magnus begins to realize that the heart can be more lethal than the sword….

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: In re-reading the synopsis and some of my friends’ reviews, I’m thinking this one needs to get ditched.

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All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

From the highly acclaimed, multiple award-winning Anthony Doerr, the stunningly beautiful instant New York Times bestseller about a blind French girl and a German boy whose paths collide in occupied France as both try to survive the devastation of World War II.

Marie-Laure lives in Paris near the Museum of Natural History, where her father works. When she is twelve, the Nazis occupy Paris and father and daughter flee to the walled citadel of Saint-Malo, where Marie-Laure’s reclusive great uncle lives in a tall house by the sea. With them they carry what might be the museum’s most valuable and dangerous jewel.

In a mining town in Germany, Werner Pfennig, an orphan, grows up with his younger sister, enchanted by a crude radio they find that brings them news and stories from places they have never seen or imagined. Werner becomes an expert at building and fixing these crucial new instruments and is enlisted to use his talent to track down the resistance. Deftly interweaving the lives of Marie-Laure and Werner, Doerr illuminates the ways, against all odds, people try to be good to one another.

Date added to TBR: Dec 6, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Nah, I don’t see myself picking this up any time soon.

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Eligible : A Modern Retelling of Pride & Prejudice (The Austen Project #4) by Curtis Sittenfeld

This version of the Bennet family and Mr. Darcy is one that you have and haven’t met before: Liz is a magazine writer in her late thirties who, like her yoga instructor older sister, Jane, lives in New York City. When their father has a health scare, they return to their childhood home in Cincinnati to help and discover that the sprawling Tudor they grew up in is crumbling and the family is in disarray.

Youngest sisters Kitty and Lydia are too busy with their CrossFit workouts and Paleo diets to get jobs. Mary, the middle sister, is earning her third online master’s degree and barely leaves her room, except for those mysterious Tuesday-night outings she won’t discuss. And Mrs. Bennet has one thing on her mind: how to marry off her daughters, especially as Jane’s fortieth birthday fast approaches.

Enter Chip Bingley, a handsome new-in-town doctor who recently appeared on the juggernaut reality TV dating show Eligible. At a Fourth of July barbecue, Chip takes an immediate interest in Jane, but Chip’s friend, neurosurgeon Fitzwilliam Darcy, reveals himself to Liz to be much less charming. . . . And yet, first impressions can be deceiving.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: This is the fourth book in a series that I haven’t read, so…

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Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) by Robert Thier

Freedom—that is what Lilly Linton wants most in life. Not marriage, not a brood of squalling brats, and certainly not love, thank you very much! But freedom is a rare commodity in 19th-century London, where girls are expected to spend their lives sitting at home, fully occupied with looking pretty. Lilly is at her wits’ end—until a chance encounter with a dark, dangerous and powerful stranger changes her life forever…

Enter the world of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, where the only rule is: Knowledge is power is time is money!

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Something about that unnecessary exclamation point in the first sentence of the synopsis makes me not want to read it lol

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Scrappy Little Nobody by Anna Kendrick

A collection of humorous autobiographical essays by the Academy Award-nominated actress and star of Up in the Air and Pitch Perfect.

Even before she made a name for herself on the silver screen starring in films like Pitch Perfect, Up in the Air, Twilight, and Into the Woods, Anna Kendrick was unusually small, weird, and “10 percent defiant.”

At the ripe age of thirteen, she had already resolved to “keep the crazy inside my head where it belonged. Forever. But here’s the thing about crazy: It. Wants. Out.” In Scrappy Little Nobody, she invites readers inside her brain, sharing extraordinary and charmingly ordinary stories with candor and winningly wry observations.

With her razor-sharp wit, Anna recounts the absurdities she’s experienced on her way to and from the heart of pop culture as only she can—from her unusual path to the performing arts (Vanilla Ice and baggy neon pants may have played a role) to her double life as a middle-school student who also starred on Broadway to her initial “dating experiments” (including only liking boys who didn’t like her back) to reviewing a binder full of butt doubles to her struggle to live like an adult woman instead of a perpetual “man-child.”

Enter Anna’s world and follow her rise from “scrappy little nobody” to somebody who dazzles on the stage, the screen, and now the page—with an electric, singular voice, at once familiar and surprising, sharp and sweet, funny and serious (well, not that serious).

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: While I do really like Anna Kendrick, these types of books rarely hold my attention.

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Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands #1) by Alwyn Hamilton

Mortals rule the desert nation of Miraji, but mythical beasts still roam the wild and remote areas, and rumor has it that somewhere, djinn still perform their magic. For humans, it’s an unforgiving place, especially if you’re poor, orphaned, or female.

Amani Al’Hiza is all three. She’s a gifted gunslinger with perfect aim, but she can’t shoot her way out of Dustwalk, the back-country town where she’s destined to wind up wed or dead.

Then she meets Jin, a rakish foreigner, in a shooting contest, and sees him as the perfect escape route. But though she’s spent years dreaming of leaving Dustwalk, she never imagined she’d gallop away on mythical horse—or that it would take a foreign fugitive to show her the heart of the desert she thought she knew.

Rebel of the Sands reveals what happens when a dream deferred explodes—in the fires of rebellion, of romantic passion, and the all-consuming inferno of a girl finally, at long last, embracing her power.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: I have this one on my bookshelf and I definitely want to read it!

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The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1) by Roshani Chokshi

Fate and fortune. Power and passion. What does it take to be the queen of a kingdom when you’re only seventeen?

Maya is cursed. With a horoscope that promises a marriage of death and destruction, she has earned only the scorn and fear of her father’s kingdom. Content to follow more scholarly pursuits, her whole world is torn apart when her father, the Raja, arranges a wedding of political convenience to quell outside rebellions. Soon Maya becomes the queen of Akaran and wife of Amar. Neither roles are what she expected: As Akaran’s queen, she finds her voice and power. As Amar’s wife, she finds something else entirely: Compassion. Protection. Desire…

But Akaran has its own secrets—thousands of locked doors, gardens of glass, and a tree that bears memories instead of fruit. Soon, Maya suspects her life is in danger. Yet who, besides her husband, can she trust? With the fate of the human and Otherworldly realms hanging in the balance, Maya must unravel an ancient mystery that spans reincarnated lives to save those she loves the most…including herself.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: This is another one I have on my bookshelf. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it.

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The Wrath and the Dawn (The Wrath and the Dawn #1) by Renée Ahdieh

One Life to One Dawn.

In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad’s dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph’s reign of terror once and for all.

Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she’d imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It’s an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid’s life as retribution for the many lives he’s stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Nah

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We Were Liars by E. Lockhart

A beautiful and distinguished family. A private island. A brilliant, damaged girl; a passionate, political boy. A group of four friends—the Liars—whose friendship turns destructive. A revolution. An accident. A secret. Lies upon lies. True love. The truth.

We Were Liars is a modern, sophisticated suspense novel from New York Times bestselling author, National Book Award finalist, and Printz Award honoree E. Lockhart.

Read it.

And if anyone asks you how it ends, just LIE.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: I have this on my bookshelf. I’m pretty intrigued by this story!

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North of Beautiful by Justina Chen

As he continued to stare, I wanted to point to my cheek and remind him, But you were the one who wanted this, remember? You’re the one who asked-and I repeat-Why not fix your face?

It’s hard not to notice Terra Cooper.

She’s tall, blond, and has an enviable body. But with one turn of her cheek, all people notice is her unmistakably “flawed” face. Terra secretly plans to leave her stifling small town in the Northwest and escape to an East Coast college, but gets pushed off-course by her controlling father. When an unexpected collision puts Terra directly in Jacob’s path, the handsome but quirky Goth boy immediately challenges her assumptions about herself and her life, and she is forced in yet another direction. With her carefully laid plans disrupted, will Terra be able to find her true path?

Written in lively, artful prose, award-winning author Justina Chen Headley has woven together a powerful novel about a fractured family, falling in love, travel, and the meaning of true beauty.

Date added to TBR: Dec 12, 2016 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Unless I come across this at a used bookstore, I don’t think I’ll read it.

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Here are the stats

Total Ditched Today: 9 Total Kept Today: 11

Bye-Bye Books: Decluttering my TBR December 2019 This post was inspired by Ally’s series (which was inspired by Lia at Lost in a Story…

Wimbledon Champ Goran Ivanisevic Recalls His Wild Ride to the Top of Tennis

This article was originally published by VICE Serbia

If you were looking a single reason to explain why the former Yugoslavia has become a tennis superpower in recent years, Goran Ivanišević would be a decent shout. Though there were players before him who achieved significant results, none became a global star in the way that Goran did. The Split native was the one who showed the kids what was possible; in his footsteps came the likes of Đjoković, Karlović, Čilić, and many more.

Goran is the kind of guy who has always done things his own way. It's the reason he lost some matches he clearly should have won, and why he won many that looked impossible. He could beat absolutely anyone, yet he could also lose to absolutely anyone. He is the only Wimbledon champion who entered via a wildcard in the tournament's 140-year history. He is also the only player in the history of professional tennis who had to forfeit a match because he had nothing to play with, having broken all seven of his racquets.

In short, the man is an enigma. We recently we met up with Goran for coffee at a golf course in Zaprešić, roughly half an hour's drive from Zagreb, where we spoke about his beginnings, tennis then and now, and what he is up to these days.

VICE Sports: Hi Goran. So what got you playing tennis? Goran Ivanišević : My father was a tennis player, and in Split there were always sports to play – football, tennis, whatever. Our family home was about 20 metres from the tennis courts. My father took me with him one day when he went to play, and that's how it started. I was seven. And you know what was interesting? The first time I went to play I broke the racquet! I don't know if I saw it from someone or if it was that talent for smashing things that woke up in me, but I returned home with a smashed racquet.

Those were different times. First, you had to go through some kind of tennis school. You had the first course, and then the second one, and only then were you able to start competing. I started tennis school and elementary school at the same time, and it went fast, so I played my first tournament in Zagreb when I was nine. My first big success was the Yugoslav championships final for my age group the following year in Zenica, which was a big surprise. No one knew who or what I was, but bit by bit I proved myself.

When did you decide that you really wanted to play tennis? When I finished elementary school at 14 I found myself at a crossroads. Should I continue school or tennis? You can't do both – I would have neglected one or the other. The decision was on my parents, but there was no money. Nothing, not even close. We were barely making ends meet, I was smashing racquets, sponsors kept promising things, managers kept knocking, but that was all. Then dad and mum decided to sell grandpa's apartment and start the adventure of a lifetime without any guarantees. At 14 I was the best, not just in Yugoslavia but in the world. Still, who can say in that moment that you'll be a success and make a living out of tennis? No one had a crystal ball to tell my dad: "Your son will be one of the best in the world." My father, who had a university degree, told me then: "Son, you're better at what you're doing than I am," and devoted himself to my career.

Goran, stood on the right in the extremely loud shirt, in 1991 // Photo licensed to VICE Serbia by MN Press

As a kid, how did you adjust to the nomadic lifestyle?

You get used to everything. There is no one to travel with you, you don't have money for a coach, but there was at least something for me – I got a chance, and I had to take it.

The worst day in my tennis life was in 1988. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was going to Australia to play in the qualifiers for Australian Open and then a junior tournament. Before I left, my father told me: "I've got bad news. Your sister is sick, we have to take care of her, so you're on your own now." It's as if that woke up something inside me. The treatment for the kind of illness she had was very expensive. Not that much about it was known and a lot of people were dying from it. I didn't sleep that night. I left for Australia the next day, and I lost in the final round of the qualifiers but still made it as a "lucky loser" and ended up in the top eight. That put me in the top 300 in the world, and brought me directly into the draw for the Australian Open qualifiers. I got through and became the first person ever to go from the qualifiers to the quarter-final. In the end I never played that junior tournament.

So all of a sudden I was 121st in the ATP rankings, and all that prize money I earned in Australia I took in cash! I'd only seen that kind of money on TV. I was flying from Melbourne to Belgrade to play in the Davis Cup against Denmark, and I had that pile of money with me, on my own on the plane. Man, I did not sleep a wink from Melbourne to Belgrade! All that money was in my jacket. The flight attendant asked me about 16 times if she should put the jacket away, and I was like: "No, it's okay, I'm fine." And it's not like it wasn't hot on the plane. When I got home, all I said to my dad was: "Here's the money, and keep the jacket." I just wanted to get some sleep.

By the end of the year I was around 50th in the rankings, and then the managers finally started showing serious interest in me. But if it wasn't for my dad and my family, I wouldn't be sitting here today talking to you. A lot if it is down to them.

READ MORE: The Cult – Goran Ivanisevic

What was the transition from junior to senior tennis like? What are the biggest differences between the two? Well, I remember at the 1988 Junior U.S. Open, there were Jim Courier, Pete Sampras, Michael Chang, and myself. Chang was the biggest star there and no one could care less about Sampras. At that tournament there were at least 20 or 30 players who eventually ended up in top 50. In my time there were a lot of young players in the top 50 and not so many older ones. There is more of a balance nowadays.

But here's a more specific answer to your question. After that Australian Open I got an invitation to Scottsdale, Arizona, and there, in the quarter-final, I got to play against Ivan Lendl. Until three weeks before that I'd had a poster of Lendl in my room. I watched and cheered for him on TV, and all of a sudden there I was, walking on to the court with him. I couldn't feel my legs; had he said "Boo!" to me I would have fainted. We'd barely made it on to the court and he'd already won the first set.

By the end of the match I'd relaxed and almost took a set. There I was thinking: "This isn't that bad, he's number one, I'm 120 in the world, but there you have it, we're playing and I am close to taking a set." Afterwards, in Split, they asked me how it was to play Lendl and I was like: "Meh, it was nothing." So they were like: "Come on, don't get too pretentious, you want to beat Lendl now!" But that was the moment when I realised that I was good enough to play Lendl and others. I just needed a bit of time.

You mentioned the Lendl poster. Did you have any other tennis idols? I read that you loved John McEnroe, and there is some logic to that, but was there anyone else? McEnroe for sure, because of the left hand, because of the temperament. But I went through all the generations. When I started, Jimmy Connors and McEnroe were playing, and I even caught some of Bjorn Borg when he was making a comeback. Then I went through Mats Wilander, Stefan Edberg, Boris Becker. Then there was my generation, and then I made it all the way to Nadal and Federer. So yes, McEnroe was my idol, but I liked watching all of them.

I went really fast from a boy who put posters on the walls to a man who all of a sudden had to think how to beat those guys from the posters. All of those idols became adversaries, some even friends.

Photo by Stefan Djakovic

You mentioned Boris Becker, who ended your first serious Wimbledon attempt in the 1990 semi-final. What was it like to play against him? He is one of my favorite players. Before that Wimbledon I beat him at the French Open, and when I look at it now, I should have won that one as well. I was serving for 2–0 in sets, but somehow... Still, I was kind of satisfied with that semi-final. You know, semi-final, centre court, everyone watching me, no expectations from anyone. At the end of the day, I should have won against him. I had my chances and had I believed more... I was too relaxed for that. I was enjoying that semi-final and it's not a shame to lose against Becker, but it really could have ended differently. At that particular Wimbledon I saw that grass could be my surface, my game style. I didn't really like playing it at the time, because grass was so fast that it was easy for you to fall out of the shot. Then I started thinking: "My serve is good, my net game is good, I have a good return, maybe this will be my tournament." Over the next 10 years I could have won it five or six times but, thank God, it turned out the way it did. I've got one here in my home, but did I have a chance to win a few more? I did.

From your perspective, what makes Wimbledon so special? As a kid I always loved watching Wimbledon the most. That grass fascinated me - how could anyone play on grass? Why on earth grass? Back then I thought that was the same grass we have in the parks; later I realised it wasn't like that.

The first time I got to Wimbledon, in 1988, it was an amazing thing for me. Why not Queens? That's a completely different grass! The grass at Wimbledon is somehow softer, caught my serve better, and dude, Wimbledon is Wimbledon – it's a miracle! Watching all those people queuing up, coming in the evening to stand in line and buy a ticket in the morning, that was awesome for me. Even though the French Open was the first Grand Slam where I achieved something, Wimbledon was always special for me. As a matter of fact, that reflected my results later on.

Except for when you lost to Nick Brown in 1991, a man who was 591 in ATP rankings… Oh man, only I could do that! That is a very specific situation in my brain, but that was also why people loved me, because I was unpredictable. That man could hardly play tennis, he was some kind of a tennis coach. He drives his car and there's a sticker on it that says "tennis coach". And me, I came to that match as if I was going to the beach. Totally relaxed, thinking: "This guy is a coach, there's no way I can lose against him even if we played for seven days in a row." But bit by bit, here comes the third, the fourth set, things get a little complicated. My arm got shorter, he started getting the balls in and I ended up making history, losing to number 591 in the world and making this guy famous. Man, did I make some strange characters famous! But I was in luck that there weren't betting houses then, because if there were I believe someone would have suspected that I was losing on purpose. And really, one does wonder – how on earth could I have lost?!

READ MORE: Inside Wimbledon's Black Market Ticket Trade

You were part of the first two tennis tournaments at the Olympics where medals were presented, in Seoul and Barcelona. What was that experience like, and what's your view on Olympic tennis? I was the youngest member of the team in Seoul and when you look at the people who were there – the handball team, the basketball team, the rowers – when you look at those names, it was weird being in their company.

In Barcelona, that tournament was probably played on the slowest surface in tennis history. I loved that surface, I played well, but during the tournament it was surreally hot, and I played all of my matches in five sets – both singles and doubles. That's why, in the semi-final against Marc Rosset, who went on to win the gold, I ran out of gas. But that tournament was damn strong: Sampras and Courier and Becker and Edberg were playing. Could it have been stronger? Not a chance. I'm still sorry about the doubles, where Prpić and I lost to Ferrer and Norval. We could have played Becker and Stich in the final, but it didn't turn out too bad this way either.

That feeling, when you win a medal and stand on that podium, when you're at the Olympics and in the Village... that feeling is special. Everyone is hanging out, everyone is standing in line, there's no "you're the man so you can cut the line"; you're queuing with everyone else and waiting your turn to get food. I am a four-time Olympian, and it was different every time, more interesting. It's different when you're based in the Village from when you're staying outside of it. When you're not in the Village, you're not at the Games. That thing just has to be felt.

In 1992, as well as the Olympics you played your first Wimbledon Final. It was a very strange tournament and a very weird final, wouldn't you say? Well... yes and no. In '92 I had a very tough draw. Had I asked someone to make it tougher, I don't think it could have been done. Lendl, then Edberg, then Sampras in the semi-final. On the other side of the draw there was Agassi and McEnroe, playing at the same time because of the rain, and Agassi beats McEnroe and Sampras and I serve each other out. Then you've got the final, for which I was the absolute favourite. It was a question of whether I would win in three, four or five sets. I beat Agassi before on clay and on concrete and here he comes on grass which is "my" surface.

Goran on "the slowest surface in tennis history" during the 1992 Olympics // PA Images

But for the first time in that tournament I was playing a "baseliner", and that confused me a bit at first. At one point I felt that I was losing the match. I wasn't feeling right, even though my serve was good; I was holding on but it was slipping away somehow. Recently I saw it on YouTube – thank God there's YouTube now so you can watch whatever you want – and was thinking: "How did I lose this?!" But okay, I lost because he was better that day, and that's the way it is.

I did notice that I "wasted" a lot of games and that in those games he was mainly static. That was what the last game in the match was like. I was serving – double fault, double fault, ace, ace, then he makes a passing shot on a volley and, in the end, I dropped a sure bet shot with the backhand volley into the net. And that's it – a gift, simple as that.

I think that, again, I entered that match too relaxed. Had I had more of that finals experience, maybe it would have turned out differently. He had lost one or two French Open Finals... I don't know, maybe it was his time to win it that year.

You best Sampras in '92, but in '94 and '98 he was the one celebrating in the final. That 1998 match was... interesting, if we can put it that way. Well, that was the first time in my life that I played Sampras believing that he couldn't beat me. That's how I felt, and that is how I started – I had two set balls for a 2–0 lead. Somehow I broke his serve when I felt like breaking it, I believed I was better, and then in the end you look at the result and see him lifting the trophy, and I end up with the tray again. That match is the biggest disappointment of my career. After that match things started going downhill. I couldn't get over it.

Being second is a big thing, but when you ask someone about who played the final… For example, at the World Cup, you always know who won, but for the losing finalist you have to think a bit. That's how it is in tennis. Big, big disappointment. That final was a very painful and heavy defeat.

The same year you had one of your stranger injuries. Generally, you had problems with injuries, but you seemed to have some unique injuries that happened only to you. Could you explain to me how Mark Philippoussis and you got the idea to hit the ball across the net with your head at the same time and hit each other? I think I had more self-inflicted injuries in my career than anyone else. I even think I could write a book about it – "how to get injured the way no one else can". But this one that you're talking about, in that instance I am the least to blame.

I was playing doubles with this Australian, who doesn't know a single thing about football but still thinks he's good at it. I'm standing at the net and the ball is bouncing towards me and I want to pass it to the ball kid with my head – you know, easy. But, all of a sudden, I'm on the floor as if one of those Japanese bullet trains has hit me. I can see blood all around me, not a clue what's going on. It turns out Philippoussis, my trusty partner, had the same idea to pass the ball with his head. I don't know who to, and he ended up hitting me with his head, knocking me out completely. And on top of that the umpire asks me if I can continue playing!

They took me to the locker room right away, gave me three or four stitches. Afterwards I asked him: "Where on earth were you going?!" Even now it's still not clear to him, but at the end of the day I am the one with four stitches in my head and he's got none!

You also had some serious injuries. At one point you were close to quitting tennis, but you managed to turn things around. Remind us how it went. That's a good question. Let's get back to 1998. As I said, that's when things started to seriously go downhill. I lost my confidence, my arm started to hurt more and more, it was a serious injury that affected my body mechanics. I needed that serve, I needed to serve well to win, and every time I did that my arm hurt.

And then it happened, like in that song – "Dotak'o sam dno života" (I hit rock bottom). It was 2001, I was playing the qualifier for the Australian Open. I was playing in the first round and I couldn't find the court. I had no idea where the court was, I was looking for it and I was going crazy. It was 800 degrees outside, and I couldn't find the court I was meant to be playing on! And I was thinking: "Bloody hell, is it possible that I've reduced myself to this?" Let alone that I was back playing a qualifier, now I couldn't find the court. I hadn't even heard that this court even existed; I thought that it was outside the complex, that they'd sent me to play in the car park.

In the end, I finally made it to the court, furious at myself, at the entire world, and lost that match royally. So I was done with that, I went home, and on the plane I had a conversation with myself. I told myself: "Look, you are either going to play tennis or it's time to retire. If you retire, your career wasn't half bad." But I couldn't just go on like that. Something was missing.

So what happened? I went to the challenger in Heilbronn, where I played in the final, then I went to Milan, got into the final eight and lost to Federer. But I'd started playing a bit better, and then Queens happened. On the day I was supposed to get a wildcard entry for Wimbledon I lost to Christiano Caratti. Oh well, you can lose to Caratti, but the way I was playing that day… it was unwatchable. I wouldn't have given myself the wildcard for Wimbledon after that match.

But, fortunately for me, the English had eight wildcards so I ended up getting one. After that there was also one interesting thing. I went to Hertogenbosch and changed my racquet. And you know, you change racquet at the end of the season or you don't change it at all. But at the time I was thinking: "I can't play worse than this. I can only play better, or the same." And my racquet at the time, I don't know. I liked the colour – it was black – and they kept telling me it was the same, but it wasn't for me.

I will never forget my practice before Wimbledon, on the Saturday before the tournament. I was practicing with Ziki – Nenad Zimonjić, а great friend of mine – and he told me: "I've never seen you serve like that." He didn't return a single serve that day, none at all. Generally, when you serve with those "prestige" racquets from Head, they have a specific sound when you hit a really good one, and I had lost that sound. I hadn't heard it in a few years. But that day I could hear it, the sound was back. I don't have a clue what happened, it's a mystery.

His serves were brutal, but this calls for a gentler approach... // Photo by Stefan Djakovic

But your preparation was a bit more thorough than that. You went to London from Varaždin... Yeah, I cancelled Paris and was preparing in Split and watching the end of the Croatian football season. Hajduk Split were playing a very important match in Zadar, so we went there and then to an away game in Varaždin against Varteks, where Hajduk had to win to take the title. The night before, 10 of us idiots went to Varaždin, singing all night. Hajduk won, so we went back Split for a party on the seafront. It's the kind of party only Split knows how to throw. And I was thinking to myself: "What would happen if I won Wimbledon?" It started in two weeks and I couldn't beat anyone at that point, but I was still thinking how great it would be.

At that point I was physically prepared, even though the arm was already hurting horribly. But I clenched my fists and told myself: "You're going to serve until your arm falls off and when it does, then you can leave the court."

When did you start to believe that your seafront party might happen, that you could win the tournament? After the second round. In the first round I got some qualifier – some Swede, Johnson or something like that – and in the second I was playing Carlos Moya, a seed. That's where I felt my serve was back and that something big was going to happen. Poor old Moya was hammered at the press conference, like: "How on earth could you lose to that guy?!"

The bottom line was, the media kept writing me off after each round. The only one who kept believing in me was Pat Cash, who kept warning people: "Ivanišević knows how to play on grass, he is playing well, and you never know with him." I couldn't say before a match: "Hey people, I'm going to win Wimbledon," because they would have taken me to the madhouse right away, or locked me up in the Tower of London. But I played better and better each match, I won against Roddick, and Rusedski, and Safin, and then that semi-final with Tim Henman happened.

That was the last chance for Henman to do something... It was the first time he was playing the semi-final against someone other than Sampras. That was a big boost for all the Brits, and for them it was as if that match didn't even exist. I got up in the morning and I was watching their TV coverage, and everyone was already talking about Henman playing in the final. Apparently I didn't even have to walk on to the court, Henman was already in the final. They were just waiting to see if it would be against Agassi or Rafter. So I'm thinking to myself: "Slow down, Henman, you still need to beat me." Okay, so I'd never beaten him before, but still, slow down!

Then the famous "three-day" game happened. I started well, won the first set, was supposed to win the second, and when I didn't everything changed. Henman started to totally dominate, I had zero chances in the third set, and he destroyed me. I remember it well, 2–1 to him, the fourth game of the fourth set, and it starts to rain – heavily. They sent us off to the locker room and I was angry with myself, angry with everyone, but at that moment Jovan Savić, the Williams sisters' sparring partner, walked into the locker room. He's a very funny character and he began telling jokes, talking about adventures, funny stories, and I started laughing. I forgot I was playing a final, that there was a rain break, that I was losing. He just relaxed me. After a few hours the umpire, Allan Mills, came and told us: "Guys, we're suspending the match, the rain is not going to stop and we'll continue tomorrow." At that moment I knew I would win the match.

To put it simply, Henman had the chance, but someone up above sent the rain. When we continued I played better and better, and he kept playing worse, and that's how it ended. He didn't take his chance.

And then the final with Rafter… It's the final that will be remembered as having the best atmosphere in Wimbledon history. The atmosphere at that match was like a football game, the exact opposite to the usual at Wimbledon. I thought I was at a Premier League game, to be honest.

The fact that I played the final barely a day after the semi helped me a lot. Rafter had finished his job on Friday and waited until Friday night, then Saturday, then Sunday. I woke up that day at 5am. I couldn't sleep – I was waiting for the match to start.

It wasn't a particularly nice final. The tennis wasn't spectacular, but it was certainly one of the most exciting. It was my fourth final, his second, with me as a wildcard. We're great friends, but unfortunately someone had to win. He'd won two U.S. Opens, but this, this one was mine. That was a given.

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And the celebration on the seafront that you'd dreamt about actually happened. At one point I was thinking: "Is it possible that this many people showed up just for one man?" Split was on fire. The sea was on fire. Every living soul showed up for the celebration. There is no greater prize than when the town that would have at some point swallowed you lifts you up like this and shows you such respect. That is my town, and that's a special story. One love. I don't reckon I would have amounted to anything were I not from Split.

Okay, maybe I would have, but not like this. The town gives you some kind of special energy. If you make it from Split, then you've really made it. You know, there are those who say: "Man, I was good, but my mum didn't wake me up so I couldn't make it to practice," or they missed the bus, or their coach didn't like them, or: "Oh my God it's summer, how can I play tennis in the summer, we have to go play picigin at the beach." It's crazy down there. I've been around, but Split is a very special town, and as I said, it gives you a special kind of energy.

After that Wimbledon you played a few more seasons, and you got injured at the beach in Miami. It was another of those things that could only happen to you, right? Ha! Yeah, that happened after a year off when my arm was totally gone. After a long spell of physical rehab I went to play Indian Wells and Miami, but couldn't serve at more than 150kmh [at his peak Goran served at well in excess if 200kmh]. In the first round at Indian Wells I was playing against Cuerten, serving at 150kmph, and boom, he returns. I was thinking to myself: "This isn't going to be good." I got to Miami and I realised I could even hold the racquet. It was over.

What could I do? At least I could go for a swim in Miami, so I go to the beach. When I was getting out of the water there's was a guy and a girl running around, and I was walking slowly to avoid them. I stepped on probably the only shell in a five-kilometre radius. It got so complicated – they didn't clean the wound properly, so I ended up in surgery, and then it got infected with some kind of bacteria. So from a simple swim in the sea I ended up at the operating table. Another of my crazy injuries!

After that surgery there was no coming back. Somewhere in 2004 I took six months off to at least try to get back into some kind of shape, to play my last Wimbledon. After all, that's where it all started. And that's where it ended: I said goodbye in the third round against Hewitt, on the most beautiful court there is. The goodbye couldn't have been nicer. The guy killed me out there – I didn't stand a chance – but I am still proud of that third round.

After you, tennis in the region began to open up. First Ančić, Ljubičić and Karlović in Croatia, and then a whole new generation of Serbian players. That change happened really fast. They picked up where I left off. Ljubo was third in the world, Mario was unfortunately held back by illness, Ivo is still out there, better than ever. Later on Marin Čilić came. So it opened up and it "infected" Serbia as well.

After Boba Živojinović [whose last Grand Slam appearance came in 1991] there was a void in Serbian tennis. Everyone was struggling somehow. Okay, there was Ziki, but there wasn't anyone really serious, until…

I still remember it like it were yesterday. In 2000 I was with Niki Pilić in Munich and after lunch he asked me to spare half an hour for this kid. He was going to make it into top 10 for sure, and could maybe even be better than that. I'm like: "Okay, I can play for half an hour with a kid." And this tiny, skinny 13-year-old turns up. His name was Novak Đjoković.

You could see right away why Pilić said what he did, and he's been proved correct. Not only has Nole made it into top 10, he's dominated world tennis. Then Tipsa, and Viktor, and now Lajović came along. There's a lot of talent. We have to mention Jelena Janković and Ana Ivanović, too, who played a remarkable role on the WTA tour. All of the sudden this part of Europe became a tennis superpower.

Photo by Stefan Djakovic

How do you see world tennis right now? Borna Ćorić recently beat Andy Murray. Novak is struggling, Federer and Nadal are back... Had anyone told me a year ago that Federer and Nadal would be making a comeback, after everyone had written them off... Okay, they shouldn't have written them off because they are Federer and Nadal. On the other hand, the two that were dominating last year, Murray and Đjoković, are playing below-average tennis by their standards. I think it will stabilise in time. Nole is too good not to get over this crisis, just like Andy.

But all of this is good for tennis, with young talents like Borna, Zverev, Kirgios getting a chance to prove themselves. There are a lot of changes in the ATP top 10, and anyone can beat anyone. That's a good thing. There are no more super-favourites. Wimbledon will be extremely interesting this year.

You are a tennis coach nowadays and are working with Tomáš Berdych. How did that start and how are you getting on? It started in 2008 when Federer asked me to be his sparring partner before the Wimbledon Final against Nadal. He won, so I guess I helped him, and that's where the idea of a coaching job appeared. To be honest, I always liked working with kids, to help out, but when I stopped playing I sort of got lost. I didn't want to travel anymore; I stayed in tennis but I wasn't ready to get back to the Tour as a coach.

The desire to coach came back in 2011, after I spent some time at home resting. I started working with Marin in 2013. After the months with that doping scandal had passed we started working seriously the following year. Then Marin won the U.S. Open in 2014. He played tennis there that you rarely see. For me as a coach it was very satisfying to watch my player grow and improve.

That collaboration lasted as long as it did, it ended the way it ended, and then a new challenge came along - working with another player, someone who isn't from Croatia, another highly ranked player. Every new relationship brings its own problems, and new positives. With my experience I can help my player find his solutions, but when he steps on court the decisions are his and his alone. Then I become a fan.

Your interviews are full of various anecdotes about the crazy things you did. We know you're the only tennis player who had to forfeit a match because you ran out of racquets, but is there anything else that you never told anyone? Well… okay, when I won Moscow in 1996, I remember that I would get back to the hotel at 7am every morning. After the match I would go out, I would head for the hotel around 5, get there by 7, sleep it off until 3pm, have lunch, and then without the warm up get on to the court around 6 or 7. And I won the tournament.

Let me say right away to younger players that it's not healthy and they shouldn't try to do the same! I would also say that I never drank during the tournament – if you drink you're done right away, but you know what, the atmosphere was good. As they say: "Moscow never sleeps", and by God, I didn't either. It shows you what confidence can bring. I didn't warm up, didn't sleep, and I won the tournament. And in 2000 I practiced for seven hours every day, went to bed at 9pm, and lost first round matches 11 times in a row. 11 times. Had someone tried to let me win, I couldn't have done it.

You recently got involved with Pro Sport Angels which, in essence, is a crowdfunding platform for young talents. Tell us a bit more about that. Look, had I had this in my time, my life would have been much easier. Both for me and my family and everyone around me. When I was presented with this idea... you know, I get a lot of things proposed to me, but this is really amazing. No one has ever done anything like this.

It's a chance for every young player – for everyone who doesn't have the chance, who is written off, who cannot find sponsors, but has the quality. I think that with this service we will make it easier for young players and their parents, we'll ease the pressure a bit. The pressure is high. While you're on the court you have to keep thinking about the points and the finances. Will you travel here, will you hire a coach, save some money on the air fare, the hotel? And if you don't win here you can't go to the next tournament. This platform helps you to have your schedule, your people, your routine. If young tennis players become good, that means that those of us who have invested in them did a good job.

I grew up in a sport where people only promised things. "It's going to happen", then "come tomorrow", then "come the day after tomorrow". This is very simple and transparent. You've got the internet, you log on, present your schedule, get the funds, play the tournaments. It's going to be a revolution in sport – I'm telling you.

Goran, thank you very much for your time, and best of luck for the future.

This article was translated into English by Nebojsa Radovic and has been lightly edited by the UK office for clarity

Wimbledon Champ Goran Ivanisevic Recalls His Wild Ride to the Top of Tennis published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv