It used to be, in that prehistoric age before the DVR, that the Australian Open came to us as an unexpected burst of sunshine in the middle of a cold January night. With the rest of the apartment’s lights off and silence reigning all around, the bright green courts at Melbourne Park came out of my square analog TV screen like a fresh blast of summer—it really did make you feel warmer.
That hasn’t been the case for the last few years, but this is the first time I’ve noticed the change. Now the Aussie Open comes to me all the time, its serene blue courts gleaming with more depth and resonance out of a rectangular LCD screen. With hundreds of hours on ESPN2 and Tennis Channel, the tournament forms the background for evenings, late nights, and early mornings. At the end of one day I can eat dinner, finish the paper, make progress on a book, pay a few bills, and do my stretching while I watch. At the start of the next day I keep watching as I drink my coffee, start a new paper, and think about painting the living room (before putting it off for another day or month or year).
I miss the late nights and the green courts, but no fan can argue with the current total immersion formula. In the U.S., tennis is now presented like no other sport on television. When the four majors are happening, it’s with us morning, noon, and night; for the rest of the year, it’s buried way up the channel list and far from the general sports fan’s eye. Depending on your outlook, this is either a vicious or a beneficent circle: The prestige of the majors has drawn ESPN to them; in turn ESPN’s blanket coverage has only increased the Slams' prestige by increasing their visibility 10-fold over the rest of the tour.
Either way, it will add new dimensions—a blue backdrop and a soundtrack of grunts—to a tennis fan’s life for the next two weeks. Let’s take a look at a little of what it brought us over the first two days and nights.
The TV Report
Not much has changed since last year on either Tennis Channel or ESPN2, so I’m not going to spend a lot of time critiquing the U.S. broadcasts. ESPN still spends too much time chattering at the desk rather than showing actual matches, and it sticks with Serena Williams at all costs. She draws viewers here, particularly after her notorious U.S. Open performance, and there’s no arguing with that. For a defense of its methods, see my 2009 interview with an ESPN programming director here.
As for the commentary, I was happy to start the new year with a brand-new sports metaphor from Brad Gilbert: “Hugging the plate." It means, in Brad-speak, standing close to the baseline during rallies. I also realized that I like the way he refers, right from the start of a broadcast, to the players by their nicknames. Hearing Juan Martin del Potro called “Delpo” all the time makes a broadcast seem more enthusiastic, less formal, more fun. So does hearing Brad say, “He’s playing unbelievable.”
Darren Cahill continues to be a knowledgeable voice of reason, but favorably comparing Serena Williams’ 41 straight first-round wins at majors to Roger Federer’s 22 straight semifinal appearances was a stretch.
Pam Shriver is on her way to redeeming her erratic performance at last year’s U.S. Open. She's back in her comfort zone, analyzing tactics and technique rather than trying to be the next Michael Barkann. She was especially good in her assessment of Maria Sharapova’s weak preparation for the Aussie Open, which consisted of just two exhibitions. She was persistent enough to prod even Mary Joe Fernandez into agreeing with her. As we’ve noted here in the past, Fernandez, the wife of IMG agent Tony Godsick, is very rarely critical of IMG client Sharapova.
Yet More About the Greatness of Roger and Rafa
Champions rise to the occasion: We know this. But in their first-round matches in Melbourne, Federer and Nadal showed us that they do it very different ways.
Nadal opened against Australia’s Peter Luczak, who played well enough to put a first-set scare into the Spaniard. Nadal spent most of that set in his passive rallying mode and looked shaky on his backhand side, where he rolled several ugly unforced errors into the alley. Not surprisingly, he played his best tennis when he was down break points. For many of us, there can be a tendency to rush and get negative after we lose a deuce point on our serve. But Nadal always gathers himself in these situations, and usually does something good with his first serve. This was case virtually every time against Luczak.
Still, Luczak eventually broke him and served for the set at 5-3. At 30-30 in that game, Nadal played his most creative point of the match. For the first time, he refused to rally passively; instead, he ran around and hit a forcing forehand on his return, put the next ball deep in the opposite corner, came in behind it, and finished the point with a putaway at the net. From there he broke and won the set in a tiebreaker. It’s a cliché, but Nadal has a winner’s ability to be inspired rather than unnerved by adversity. He uses it to produce his best, most thoughtful tennis, and he does that by getting out of his routine. Once he’s done that, Nadal typically loosens up, as he did in winning the last two sets easily over Luczak.
Adversity sends Federer in the opposite direction. When it’s close, he plays the same game he always plays, only better—he gets to the ball a little earlier; he hits it with the pace and penetration of his prime; he cuts out all mishits and most errors; he tracks down the extra ball; he makes his first serves. When Andreev was up 5-4 in the third and serving, with three sets points, Federer’s backhand slice was suddenly angled just a little more sharply, which forced Andreev to backpedal just a little farther to hit his lethal forehand. He missed it each time. Nadal actively manufactures his confidence; Federer finds his by instinct. One way or another, each of them gets there.
Match Point—For Two?
The Federer-Andreev and Vania King-Dominika Cibulkova matches, which were going on at virtually the same time yesterday, were both examples of the same strange mental phenomenon. That is: When a lower-ranked player serves for a match—or in the men’s case, for a two-set-to-one lead—and the score is 5-4, the player who is behind also stands a very good chance of winning the match (provided, of course, he or she can break serve). It's almost as if it's a sudden-death game for both players. Instead of serving it out, you can feel like you're suddenly playing for your life.
Cibulkova broke King at 4-5 in the second set, won it in a tiebreaker, and nearly won the third set. Federer broke Andreev at 4-5 in the third and cruised from there. For the player trying to pull the upset, it’s virtually impossible to put that missed opportunity out of your mind. The momentum you had carefully built up for two whole sets can be completely dissipated in a matter of seconds.
The Ivanovic Show
I know a guy who is brave enough—or evil enough—to admit that he finds it more entertaining to see a player like Ana Ivanovic melt down than play well. It’s a sick way of thinking, of course, and suffice it to say that he's not a women's tennis fan. Then again, you can’t turn away from the scene of a car crash either, can you?
For me, seeing Ivanovic play well is entertaining and satisfying, mainly because I’ve been in her shoes. At this point, every victory for her feels like a triumph over the dark forces of doubt that plague all tennis players.
Most Pleasant Surprise
Maria Kirilenko and her newfound chutzpah. This undersized, underpowered Russian has always been a worker and a scrapper. It was nice to see her reap at least one reward for it with her win over Sharapova. But it wasn’t the shocking result many believe it to be; the two know each other well, and Kirilenko already owned a win over her. I should have highlighted it as a first-round match to watch.
With that in mind, let me finish by reminding you of a couple second-round matches to watch in the coming days: Justine Henin vs. Elena Dementieva and Juan Martin del Potro vs. James Blake.
I'll try to have a beer with one, and coffee with the other the next morning.