There are few, if any, tournaments easier to plunge into than the BNP Paribas Open. The Tennis Garden here allows for maximum viewing of the players, so much so that it might be renamed a Tennis Aquarium—the pros practice, work out, and eat in front of you. That may sound oppressive, but I get the feeling they don't mind the attention all that much.
It's a tradition on this blog that I spend the first full day plunging in myself and coming back with a timeline of sights and sounds, and a few top-of-the-head thoughts about them. Here they are, from a very long, full, bright, blue, and warm first Saturday.
For my report on the big news of the day, No. 3 seed Elena Dementieva's upset loss at the hands of a (pretty cool) qualifier, go here.
Oh, also, baby Federer is due "in summer." Father Federer won't say more than that.
9:00 A.M.: Stadium Court
Andy Murray plays the early match today, and he's out at 9:00 sharp doing stretching and light strength exercises with one of his coaches. I remember John McEnroe's line after he lost to Ivan Lendl at the U.S. Open in 1985: The consummate non-fitness freak said he might "lift a few weights." His heart, clearly, wasn't in it. Murray is a sort of modern-day McEnroe, a natural shot-maker and touch artist, but he's also serious about his fitness. It hasn't made him a less various or interesting player—yet, anyway. But I wonder if the focus on physical training in general on tour hasn't gone overboard. Is it done now instead of taking the time to learn creativity with shots? There's no choice, unfortunately. You need that base of power and speed before you can begin mixing in your touch volleys and surprise angles. Let's hope Murray's game remains as patient and cerebral even as it gets more powerful.
As I walk out, Murray has begun practicing serves. He hits them to his coach, Miles Maclagan, while two of his other trainers study him. One is on the sideline, the other behind him. They both have their hands on their chins. Andy Murray: tennis experiment.
9:05: Practice Court 2
Nicole Vaidisova is volleying. She looks fitter and more upbeat than the last time I saw her, at Bollettieri's in December. The ex-prodigy has put together a two-match run here. But, like a lot of the pros, she's practicing her volleys perfunctorily, to get them out of the way, because they're just part of every practice routine of every tennis player since the sport was invented. She makes most of her volleys, but she hits them late, behind her. There's no mention of it by her two coaches. They all know she won't win or lose with these shots anyway.
9:25: Media Room
The press area is empty at this hour, except for Joel Drucker, author of Jimmy Connors Saved My Life, a must-read for old-school tennis junkies. We quickly find out that we've both been reading John Updike books on this trip. He mentions a conversation that he had once with Leif Shiras about which authors were "career Grand Slam winners" in the lit world. My first reaction is that this kind of everything-comes-back-to-tennis parlor game could only spring from the mind of Joel Drucker. But I have to say it's fun to consider. We decide that Updike won everything but Wimbledon. But as the day goes on, I wonder whether we gave him shirt shrift. I'll get back to you on that one.
9:30: Practice Court 10
Farther along on the practice courts, the Vaidisova phenomenon repeats itself, this time more tragically. Two women of Polish descent, Agniezska Radwanska and Caroline Wozniacki, are hitting—Radwanska is playing a match in a couple of hours. She's skinnier than she looks on TV, while Wozniacki is more powerfully built, not a bad sign for her future. But it's Radwanska who has been blessed with better hands. At Wimbledon last year I said she was a sort of modern-day Chris Evert. Watching her take volleys today, I'm thinking Evonne Goolagong, who was stylish but also a serve-and-volleyer. Radwanska hits nice cut volleys, drop volleys, and half-volleys, but she can't hit a normal volley the right way. She drops the racquet head on the backhand side and comes slightly over the ball on the forehand side. It reminds me of Bjorn Borg's volley. The Swede, who changed the game by popularizing the Western grip, hit his forehand volleys the same way. They were basically shorter versions of his ground strokes. Radwanska hits them the same way. It's hard to watch, but it probably won't hurt her today. The women's sport has no place right now for a Goolagong, someone attacked with her touch.
10:00: Practice Court 5
Richard Gasquet is hitting with Potito Starace. There's a small crowd of women watching, though the first comment on their play is from an older guy, who says very sagely: "Gasquet hits a thick ball." I don't know what this means, and I can't figure it out from watching. But the guy sounded sure of himself, so I'll keep trying.
The next comment comes from a woman watching the highly tan Starace, who is shirtless and seems to be enjoying the attention. A woman near me says, "Look."
Her friend leans forward. After a couple seconds of silence, she says, "Oh boy, I think it's time for us to go. Time to step away from the barbeque."
10:30: Workout field
The players aren't just on display as they practice, but as they train as well. The first thing you see as you walk through the front gates is a huge open field that functions as both makeshift soccer pitch and outdoor gym for the players. Right now French teen Alize Cornet has the run of it. In shorts and a sports bra, she's jogging around in circles waving to friends and fans as if she's doing a victory lap. When it's over, she giggles and steals a soccer ball from a male player, dribbles it around to the middle of the field, and sends a pretty impressive long kick back at him.
10:45: Practice Court 1
Davis Nalbandian and Juan-Martin del Potro are hitting. Are they friends again? They had a pretty severe falling out during last year's Davis Cup final. Turns out they are, according to Kamakshi, who says their coaches orchestrated a rapprochement for the sake of the team.
10:50: Media Center
I head inside and out of the strong early sun; I can't tell what it's doing to my pale Northeastern indoor face. I pass Nick Bollettieri, who is at the center of a group of fans getting their pictures taken with him. They all hold their grins as the photographer fumbles with his camera. When the shot's finally snapped, he says grandly, "All right. Thank you, everyone. Everybody good?" He starts to walk inside, but two kids nab him and ask for one more shot. Nick holds his arms out and rasps happily, as if he's talking to his own kids, "Come on!" One of them shouts, "Yes!"
On the other side of the door Bud Collins is picking up his meal vouchers for the day. He's explaining to the people giving them out where he gets his pants: they're made specially for him by a man at the Andover Shop near Boston.
11:00: Court 6
Ernests Gulbis, a favorite up-and-comer of many, including myself, has just lost the first set to Igor Andreev. He comes out to serve the first game of the second and drops four points almost immediately. Losing the first set has demoralized him rather than steeling him.
Gulbis is an all-world talent, but watching him here I think about an article I read a month or so ago about the problem with predicting success for NFL quarterbacks. There seem to be absolutely no barometers, except perhaps height, for telling how a top college QB will fare in the pros. Accuracy, speed, power, decision-making, football IQ: none it means a thing. The conclusion now being drawn is that you can't know how good someone will be as an NFL quarterback until you've seen him as an NFL quarterback.
I would say this is probably less true for tennis, because you don't depend on other members of a team. But it's not false, either.
11:30: Stadium 2
Aggie Radwanska beats Sam Stosur in three sets. As far as I can tell, she doesn't approach the net once.
12:00 Practice Court 2
Ana Ivanovic is hitting, watched by her new coach, Craig Kardon. He's most famous for working with Martina Navratilova, and is a friendly, beefy guy. He makes a lot of points, and she seems to have a lot of fun trying to hit backhand drop shots that her hitting partner can't track down. If there's pressure on her to live up to what she did here last year, Ivanovic just smiles and barrels past it. She happy pulling off a between-the-legs shot.
12:30: Stadium Court
"Terrible," Andy Murray yells after spinning a drop shot wide. He's testy because he's in a tight second set against an Albert Montanes who can't seem to miss. But the surface and the heat are helping him. Murray's next kick serve, on break point, gets up high on Montanes and draws a long return. Murray finishes that game with a 131-m.p.h ace.
The trouble with Montanes is that he's a little casual in everything he does. The backwards cap; the extra, unnecessary, nonchalant flair at the end of his slice backhand; the way he admires his well-hit drop shots for a split-second before bolting into an attacking position. He's at his best only from a desperate position or when he's trying something special. Match point down, Montanes opens up the court, but rather than close the point, he gives it back to Murray attempting a too-fancy drop shot.
1:00: Practice Court 1
The crowds are five deep to watch Roger Federer practice. I hate to tell them, but it usually gets pretty boring pretty fast. I like to think of Federer's workouts as anti-practices. He hits flat-footed, he tries useless little chop shots, he goes for winners, he keeps his head down and a cap pulled low. It's still impressive to one guy standing next to me and wearing a backwards baseball cap that reads, "Wild Party Girls."
"He's too sick, dude," he tells his friend as Federer intentionally drills an overhead into the back fence on the fly.
In this sense, Federer is like Sampras, who didn't have much structure or many daily goals to his practices when he was on the road—I laugh thinking about Federer having a guy like Kardon in his ear after every shot. His style makes it less necessary for Federer to have a full-time coach on the road. His metrosexual reputation aside, in this way Federer is man's man—he's self-reliant. How many other pros never look to their boxes to see whether they should challenge? Federer just throws up the hand.
If you think Federer would be better off with a traveling coach, you also have to say that Pete Sampras would have won fewer majors without Paul Annacone around to schedule his practices. I doubt he would have.
4:00: Press Room
Ana Ivanovic is still barreling. There are no breaths between her words. I have no idea how the press transcribers keep up with her—they must brace themselves for her onslaught. She takes a question about how she felt meeting Bill Clinton, the man who ordered her country to be bombed, by saying, with maximum enthusiasm, that she was "trilled" to meet him. Later she lists her favorite musical artists—David Gray, John Mayer, Coldplay—and is accused of having "sappy" taste. She laughs harder than ever and says, "I'm romantic."
What's shocking to me is that she also claims that she was "experimenting" with different shots and working on her game during this match. Can that possibly be true?
6:30: Press Room/Practice Courts
The sun is finally retreating on this day, though there are still matches being played in the Garden. Up in the press room, Federer, a winner today, is being asked about how a baby hippo beat him out as Swiss of the Year. Federer answers, wryly as always, "At least the hippo was from Basel, right? That's a loss I can take."
Down below there's a titanic crowd, all centered around one practice court. There are even people watching from inside the stadium court. It can only be one person out there: Rafael Nadal. He hits a few balls, chats with his coach for the week (no Uncle Toni this week—Rafa, like Rog, is another self-reliant type), and then stares out toward the soccer field and beyond, at nothing, as far as I can tell. He doesn't seem to know there's anyone watching.
See you Sunday.