INDIAN WELLS, CALIF.—It’s cloudy here today, which I wasn’t sure was possible. There’s a more subdued mood around the grounds, which isn’t surprising considering that both Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal have been scheduled for the night session—the day-time ticketholders must be feeling a little left out right now. I mean, Ivo Karlovic and Albert Montanes, who face each other on Stadium 2 this afternoon, are great players and all, but still . . .
So it seems like an appropriate moment, as I sit and watch Sam Querrey lose an extremely subdued match of his own against Tommy Robredo, to take a breath and catch up on a few things that have been happening on the periphery of my Indian Wells experience so far.
*
We’ve got Hawk-Eye on all courts for the first time anywhere. How has it worked out? It took about three days for me to start wondering: Why, again, do we not have this for every match, everywhere? The first couple of days, I noticed that the outer-court guys seemed less likely to challenge calls than their show-court betters, as if they’d forgotten it was there, or just weren’t used to thinking that they had this recourse. I know it’s a price issue—something like $50,000 per court—but there’s no doubt that the system improves the quality of the tennis product.
*
Even more of a revelation, though, has been the men’s doubles renaissance that has gone on this week. Nadal, Federer, Djokovic, and Murray are all still in the dubs draw, and their presence has virtually doubled the number of filled stadiums (no, I’m not using stadia, grammarians) over that time—doubled the fun, in other words. Two evenings ago, I sat in one of those filled and buzzing stadiums and had a great time watching Federer and Wawrinka sneak past Benneteau and Gasquet. Fans got to see an entire side of the sport returned to them: first volleys, half-volleys, volley dropped delicately at the opponents’ feet, volley drilled at the opponents’ chests, volleys spun with reverse English crosscourt; poaches, lob returns of serve, points with multiple lobs and overheads. It’s amazing what works in dubs (the lob return? love that shot), and how much the alleys add to the sport’s possibilities.
This type of match also gives you a chance to appreciate the skills of a stylish second-tier guy like Benneteau (as good as Wawrinka also is in this format, I’ve never loved to watch him). The Frenchman is terrific at the quick-hands game around the net—all of these players are, of course—which isn’t something you would necessarily know if you’d only watched him play singles. But as far as fan energy, it wouldn’t have been the same without Federer’s presence. Fittingly, he ended the super-tiebreaker by rifling a forehand between his opponents from behind the baseline. Last shot of the match=shot of the match.
How to make this kind of thing happen more often? I’ve talked, idly, about making the rankings a combination of singles and doubles, though Nadal has stated here that he will never play dubs at a major. What that makes me wish for is the return of the old National Doubles. During the amateur era it was held at Longwood, a couple of weeks before Forest Hills. It was essentially the U.S. Open of doubles; all of the top singles players had a chance to play, because the two events weren’t played at the same time. Ah well, it’s wishful thinking, but this week has made me believe that the sport should go farther to find a way to make doubles—with the best singles players, not with the specialists who rule it now—an important part of the game again. It’s obvious, but I’ll state it: There’s way more to tennis than baseline rallies. At this point, doubles is the easiest place to show off everything else.
*
Speaking of super-tiebreakers, I didn’t realize until this tournament how much I like them in place of a third set in dubs. Being first to 10 rather than seven, they’re substantial enough not to seem like a crapshoot, but there’s still a premium on every point. And they come at a good spot. One team has just turned the tables and won the second set, which is exciting. With the super-tiebreaker, you don’t have to return to square one and wait for the action build again; you take that excitement and immediately build on it. When the Swiss and the French split sets Monday night, no one got out of their seats.
In fact, thinking out loud here, what would tennis be like if it were all super-tiebreakers? A match might consist of best 5 of 9 STs. There would be very little downtime for fans, and no points would be meaningless.
*
Favorite presser moment so far:
Q: “When you go out for a match, what’s playing in your mind? Are you psyching yourself up?”
Roger Federer: “I’m pretty much focused, but relaxed. You know, today I was feeling very confident going into the match for some reason. When I was on the golf cart driving to the tennis court, I was like, Yeah, I feel really good today. I hope it’s not misleading.”
Wow, what a comment. The consensus best player in history sounds exactly like every other player at every level who ever played a match, trying to trust his own positive feeling beforehand. The best part is that he said he was feeling confident for some reason. Some might see this as a sign that he’s no longer as confident as he once was, but I don’t think that’s it. I’m guessing that, like everyone else, his confidence before a match has always depended on the day, on the hour, on his breakfast, maybe on the weather, maybe on nothing at all. Even for a guy who wins 90 percent of his matches, confidence is impossible for Federer to manufacture, and very tough even to capture and keep for a few minutes as you ride over to play your first-round match. And once he has it, even Federer has been burned enough to know not to trust it: “I hope it’s not misleading.”
*
A few of us in the press room have given up on trying to decide which name should come first among Chinese players, so we’re just going with both. It’s now “Peng Shuai/Shuai Peng” every time we say it. Li Na/Na Li may have had the best answer for this Western quandary in Australia. She said that when you see her, just say hello.
*
To this NYCer, Indian Wells means having a car, for once, which means getting, for once, to listen to music in a car. Except that this time, assuming that my rental would have an IPod adapter, I didn’t bring any CDs along. Alas, no IPod cord. So it’s been all radio for me on my drives to and from the site. It’s been an eye-opening experience. Did you know there is a song, in extremely regular rotation, which enthusiastically repeats the letters S, M, over and over? Did you know that there is apparently never a moment when a tepid anthem by a woman named Taylor Swift isn’t playing somewhere? Did you know that amid all this vast morass of screams and moans and revved up beats, the only person who stood out as quality was L’il Wayne? My trip, musically, hasn’t been a total waste, after all. I’ll have to pick up something by hip-hop’s resident tennis fan.
Overwhelmed by the new and young and played to death, I’ve tried to find refuge in classic rock stations (forget the colleges; left of the dial here seems to be reserved for Christian rock). But I’ve found no solace there, either. Just “All Right Now,” by Free, which includes one of my favorite nonsensical lines in history: “I took her home to my place/Watching every move on her face.” What, exactly, was her face doing?
Best song heard on the radio: “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” the Guns and Roses version. Sometimes you just have to admit to your 80s roots and embrace them and sing along to them.
Best song heard in the stadium: “Ain’t That a Shame,” by Fats Domino. Makes U2 sound like . . . glop—yeah, glop.
*
It wouldn’t be a notebook post without something about my flight, would it? I’ve always liked looking out the windows of a plane; somehow the long view relaxes me, and this trip offered mostly cloudless, unimpeded views of the United States. I’ll never get enough of the sight of the lights of small cities dotting the countryside at night. There’s something warming about them, about the way they stick outside in the darkness, against the darkness. Like snowflakes and Grateful Dead shows, no two are exactly the same. Looking at them pass by slowly, I think, What can possibly be going wrong there, in that safe spot where people have decided to gather?