First thing you must do in Rome? Avoid getting killed by a motorbike. Their hornet-like buzz is the trademark sound of the city. Walking to the Foro Italico this morning for the final round of qualifying, I looked back at an intersection and saw a line of cars waiting at a red light.
I started to cross, but out of nowhere five small but lethal-sounding motorcycles zoomed around them and revved their engines impatiently. Before the light turned, they were off, forcing me into a full sprint for my life ("killed trying to get to the Master Series-Rome qualies" did not sound like a winning headstone). Even when I cross a street that’s deserted, I’ll usually see a dot in the distance.
I’ve learned after a day here that that dot is going to get bigger, and louder, very fast, so I might as well start jogging now. The road to the tournament site is as loud and bike-filled as any, but by the time you climb the small hill to the courts all you hear are birds chirping and tennis balls meeting strings.
The second, smaller arena is the one you notice first. That’s because it’s a sunken marble amphitheatre preserved from Mussolini’s 1930s. Around the court tower numerous classical-style, 12-foot statues of manly men in various states of undress. It’s the ultimate in Fascist-kitsch—except for the one in the military uniform who’s carrying a rifle. He’s just scary. The court is now called Stado Nicola Pietrangelo, after the great Italian player of the 1950s and 60s. Each gate into it is adorned with a red sign that says just that, “Stado Nicola Pietrangelo,” in big letters. The problem is that each of the signs is aligned with, and placed just below, a statue.
The first-time visitor or tennis novice could easily think all of these giant-legged monsters are supposed to represent Nicola Pietrangelo in various states of undress. It’s not really a big deal until you pass the last two, which are nudes—I think even Nicola would have a problem with that.
Anyway, the real gem of the Foro Italico is the side-court area. Three pairs of red-clay courts are sunken into an ampitheatre again, but this time it's made of humane stone and grass rather than creepy marble. Towering above are not nude dudes but tall pine trees that lean over the courts and cast cool tree-trunk shadows on the courts as the afternoon wanes. Fans can sit or stand at the top of the ampitheatre; every spot is close, and everyone has room to move even when it’s crowded.
We always tout the qualies at the U.S. Open, but the Italians make it a show. They don’t spread the matches across the grounds; instead, they put all eight do-or-die matches on the three most intimate courts over the course of the afternoon. The place was packed. It also helped that there were three Italians playing. Amer Delic of the U.S. faced the tremendously named Fabio Fagnini in the first match. Delic was a decent prospect when he turned pro four years ago—I remember liking his big-but-rounded game when he took Carlos Moya to four sets at the U.S. Open in 2004—but he’s just now cracking the Top 75. Watching today, I wondered: Does he try too hard to act like Roger Federer, to play it cool? This seems like a problem for a few American guys (not the Fed part, the too-cool part).
In Delic’s case, he’s so casual between points that it carries over to his shots. On the first point of the match, he tried an impossible Federer-esque crosscourt drop volley (it ended up in the alley). For much of the day, he seemed to be in cruise control when he was setting up for his ground strokes. Despite a few hiccups (i.e., chokes) at the end, the hard-courter snuck through in three and qualified for a clay Masters—a nice result. My favorite moments of the match belonged to the Italian fans. With each of Fagnini’s misses through the afternoon, a sea of sunglasses, upturned collars, tight pants, and cigarettes leaned back and exclaimed together: “Ahhhhh!” And one young man behind me really did say, “Mamma mia!”
The next match pitted Ivo Karlovic against Nicolas Massu. This went to three tiebreakers—did I really need to tell you that?—before Massu won. The Chilean spent much of day exasperated, which is not unsual. What seemed weird was that he rolled his eyes at Karlovic’s aces, and on a couple of his own passing-shot misses, as if these things just weren’t fair. Then I realized that’s exactly what he was saying: Karlovic isn’t fair. And I would normally agree: Anyone who can hit flat aces out wide, over the high part of the net, is not fair.
But I felt for Karlovic today. He won the first set, then came back from 1-6 to 5-6 in the second-set breaker, three points from the match and the main draw. After a (relatively) long rally, he left an approach just short and Massu passed him. In the third set, Karlovic actually served for the match at 6-5 but was, somehow, broken. He lost the final breaker 7-0 and walked off in utter dejection.
I had to leave that sad sight behind, so I checked in on the center court. There I came across Federer hitting a few casual balls with countryman Stanislas Wawrinka. “Hitting a few casual balls” is 70 percent of a typical Federer practice, and this was no exception. He and Wawrinka spent long periods leaning on the net and talking while Tony Roche stared at the baseline and bounced a ball with his racquet. The main piece of business seemed to be trying to decide what to do with his backhand. He and Roche shadow-hit the stroke together numerous times, trying to find the right form. For what, I don’t know. During rallies, Federer made an effort to hit it with more topspin, but on returns he tried to attack with it, going after numerous inside-out crosscourt returns from the deuce court and following them to net.
What it means I’m not sure, but practice to Federer seems to be a time for getting the demons out more than anything else. He rarely speaks, even to Roche; when he does, it’s almost always to berate himself for missing a shot that he didn’t seem to be trying on in the first place. After shanking one forehand long, he sent an overhead out of the stadium. On the final point, he stood still on for his backhand return and intentionally drilled it 10 feet long. Then he walked to the net and had a laugh with Wawrinka about something. Roche picked up the balls.
OK, that’s about it from here. The last match of the night was a tough one for Guillermo Cañas, who, after all he’s done lately, still had to qualify. He was on the ropes against Florent Serra, who worked Cañas’ backhand to death. The Argentine used his serve, and a couple awful unforced errors from Serra at the end, to survive. The tournament is better for it.