Roland Garros CC, Day 8
By TennisWorld Contributing Editor Andrew Burton
Tennis fans know the drill during Grand Slams: alternating day of rest, then day of frazzle. I’ve managed to take this to a new level during the first week of Roland Garros, since I bought Philippe Chatrier (the main court) tickets for the first four days of my trip, and Suzanne Lenglen tickets for Saturday and Sunday. The scheduling gods have then seen fit to put my favorite player, Roger Federer, on Lenglen on Wednesday and Friday, and this afternoon he’ll take on fellow countryman Stan Wawrinka on Chatrier.
I’ve successfully swapped tickets twice so far: this one feels like a bigger ask, but it will have been a tremendously enjoyable first Grand Slam visit whatever the outcome. Here are some of my impressions of the first five days.
People, people everywhere: don’t come to Roland Garros if you don’t like close contact with your fellow human beings. The site has a lot of tennis courts, three good sized stadiums, pretty good concession and souvenir booths, and very narrow walkways. Even the main boulevard between Chatrier and Lenglen gets jammed in the middle of the afternoon, which has been a bummer for me when I’ve been trying to get to a working wifi hotspot at the Place Des Mousquatieres.
Go high tech: my lovely wife Sylvia purchased an IPad for me for our wedding anniversary this year, and it’s been a complete godsend on the trip. Easiest thing in the world to check on scores, schedules, eMail, compose Racquet Reactions (I use the notes app then drop it into TypePad when finished), and Twitter. Like many people I pooh-poohed Twitter when I first heard about it, but I’d hate it if it went away now. It’s become a mini web in its own right – links, conversations, private messages. Plus moral support from Tribe members when I’ve railed at the scheduling gods….
(By the way, this trip wouldn’t have happened without Sylvia’s prompting me to use up British Airways frequent flier miles, and making nearly all the arrangements. There are understanding spouses, and then there are those who go above and beyond. Thank you.)
French style: making comparisons between countries and events is something we all do, often on a very small sample. Everyone knows someone who’s an instant expert on a country after they spent a week there 20 years ago. I’ve been coming to France for over 40 years now, on and off. I’ve been crestfallen and ashamed by how poor my spoken French has become (that 1975 O Level really needs a tune up), and (despite everything else you might read) impressed at how just about everyone speaks really good conversational English. In the past, I’ve found many fewer people ready to speak English: now, perhaps with the ubiquity of the Internet and fifty or so TV channels showing multilingual shows and movies, most folks are well armed with English.
Also on the style side, literally all the ushers are aged about 20 and they’re all tall and good looking – young women and men both. The men wear a cream sweater and clay court brick red trousers, the women a cream blazer and skirt. They’re perfectly elegant. At Indian Wells, all the ushers are senior citizens in Fila sports kit. I guess you go with the resources you have.
What was the best tennis: on my first day, I was on Chatrier for Isner – Nadal. I was surprised to see Isner take a set, doubly so when he took a second: I honestly didn’t expect him to win one of the next three, and so it proved. I also saw Rus – Clijsters, an object lesson to anyone who’s ever played the sport themselves. Clijsters had match point at 6-3, 5-2 on her opponent’s serve, but the 115-ranked player kept scrapping and turned the match around to upset the number 2 seed. Most of the commentary focused on Clijsters’ level of play, and she did look a bit ring rusty – but she had built that big lead. I just loved the way Rus kept her game face on, treating the biggest win of her career as if it was just another match.
I was also on Lenglen yesterday for Murray – Berrer, which brought back memories of the first time I saw Murray play, at Indian Wells in a quarter final against Tommy Haas. Murray badly twisted his ankle in that match a set down to Haas, and looked certain to be forced to retire. It seemed like he’d only be able to manage a few points before conceding: instead, he baffled and bamboozled his German opponent, took the second set and went on to win a tie break decider.
Poor Michael Berrer was Murray’s foil yesterday. Murray turned his ankle sliding for a drop shot, but the denouement was the same: the Scot played through obvious pain, shortening points with hard groundstrokes aimed much closer to the lines than he usually hits. Makes you wonder what he could do in a big match if he could somehow find that mindset.
The top WTA seed playing today is the 3 seed, Vera Zvonereva, the highest seed left in the tournament. For the ATP, Federer and Djokovic go up against Wawrinka and Gasquet respectively. All these matches are on Chatrier: the marquee match on Lenglen is Monfils vs Ferrer. If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see if I can find a Gael Monfils KAD at the Place Des Mousquatieres. A bientot. (Oh, almost forgot – Enjoy today’s tennis!)
Wheelchair Tennis
Wheelchair tennis: the court, rackets and balls are the same; the only difference is the ball is allowed to bounce twice.
The Losing End
PARIS—A first Wednesday at a major is long and crowded enough to contain a multitude of phases, moods, even eras. Eight hours of walking the grounds and watching yellow balls fly across net can feel like weeks. The bright promise of the morning and a fresh Order of Play gives way to high sun and packed houses by afternoon. That sun seems to hang in the sky eternally in Paris, and the yellow balls keep flying through the early evening. By 9:00, it’s still not dark, but your OOP is full of doodles and crossed off matches that feel like they’ve come from another time period. Do you remember that much-heralded Wozniacki-Wozniak showdown from way back when? Yes, it happened today.
By the end, all of that tennis—if you’re not out watching it live, it’s on the press-room monitor in front of you—can make you a little woozy. But there’s been a lot to see, and as I write this it isn’t over yet. Vera Zvonareva and Sabine Lisicki are deep into the type of meltdown-comeback-marathon that we love and hate the WTA for all at once. Here’s a second view from the front row.
***
2:30: Court 2
I expected, from where I was sitting, to find Juan Martin del Potro to be an awesome sight on such a crammed little side court. But the big guy is thinner than he was once, and not quite as physically imposing as I might have thought. I also expected to be blown away by his blistering pace of shot from this position, but it’s really his accuracy—crosscourt, down the line, to either corner, on the run—that impresses. Del Potro rarely flirts with the lines, yet his opponent, Blaz Kavcic, who hits the ball almost as hard, can’t get near his best shots. After yet another del Potro forehand leaves him fooled and flailing, Kavcic turns to his large support group in the stands and counts off his opponents ridiculous winners on his fingers. He gets all the way to five. Then he starts cursing. I don’t understand the language, but I understand cursing on a tennis court.
Is del Potro ready to give Djokovic any kind of trouble? He’s never beaten him, but he can hit with him. The difference should be Djokovic’s through-the-roof match toughness and confidence, as well as his physical superiority to del Potro, who is coming back from injury and who looked a little winded at times today. Then again, that’s generally how the Big Tank looks just before he blows you away.
***
4:15: Interview Room I
Q: I know that you don’t want to speak about your new diet regime . . .
Novak Djokovic: Exactly
Q: Everything?
Novak Djokovic: You’re right
Q: But why, why don’t you want to speak?
There are some things I can speak about; there some things I can’t.
Q: No other reasons?
I can tell you who is my girlfriend, but I cannot tell you what I do with my girlfriend.
(Laughter)
Novak Djokovic, gluten-free riddler
***
6:00: Court I
This morning I believed, again, that the Bullring could make any match interesting. But I overestimated the venue and underestimated the value of a good, vocal crowd. By late afternoon, the French seem, like me, a little on the woozy side from tennis. They’re also not especially interested in a very competitive and potentially entertaining match between world No. 3 Vera Zvonareva and Sabine Lisicki of Germany. Frenchman Jo-Wilfried Tsonga is in action across the grounds, and the chants and cheers can be heard from there. The scattered few left in the Bullring, by contrast, are slouched in a quiet daze.
The atmosphere robs the match of any energy it might have had, but the two women put on a sometimes-dramatic, sometimes-shaky, sometimes-ugly, and in the end unfortunate three-set marathon. Lisicki, a big-hitting but erratic and oft-injured German who has never made the leap up the rankings the way many of us expected, is the better player for most of two sets. Her shots have more weight, her serve is finding the lines, and she’s playing an intelligent brand of safe tennis, sending the ball high, deep, and down the middle and letting Zvonareva futilely try for the lines.
As so often happens when a lower-ranked player gets a glimpse of the finish line, the roles are reversed at the end of the second set. Now it’s Zvonareva using the high, safe ball, and Lisicki going for too much and spraying balls long and wide. Zvonareva is savvy; she takes a key return, makes a rare charge to the net behind it, and totally throws Lisicki.
The scenario plays out the same way in the third, to a much more dramatic degree. Lisicki is up 5-2, with a match point, one minute; not long after, she’s being carried off on a stretcher, in tears, a loser. There’s little joy in this battle. Zvonareva’s celebration is muted, and the few of us left walk out with heads down, unsmiling. We want battles, we want blood, we want human drama, and we ask our athletes to give us all of that. When they do, when they really do, we want to turn our eyes away.
***
7:45: Court Suzanne Lenglen
This is where everyone is hiding. Lenglen is filled up with French cheering for one of their own. The kids yell “Hey, Jo!” and the teens trade soccer chants across the stadium. On court, Tsonga and Igor Andreev have planted themselves eight feet behind the baseline and are launching violently top-spinning missiles at each other. This match is truly Tennis 2011, as the combination of modern racquets and strings have made it. The balls rocket upward and then dive. They start outside the sidelines and curl into the corners. Serves break downward and kick high and far outside the sidelines. Both players play so far back that they send linesmen diving and scurrying with every swing. Soon tournaments will have to start building bigger courts to contain the game safely.
Tsonga is in a good frame of mind. He gets a bad bounce but ignores it. He juices the crowd judiciously, without overdoing it. And he breaks right on time, at 4-3 in the third. But in the final game, it’s Andreev whom I watch. It’s a classic moment that’s been with tennis forever, one that requires a certain style and etiquette and protocol all its own: It’s called losing. More specifically, it’s called losing in front of the winner’s home crowd. Andreev plays his role with dignity.
As the crowd is roused and Tsonga begins to strut, Andreev doesn’t rage against the tide. After losing the first point, he puts his head down and points silently for his towel. Then he stoically gets into the ready position again. He sticks to this ritual after losing the second point. His demeanor is half-hopeful, half-resigned. At 30-0, he shanks his return wide. He shifts toward resignation.
It’s 40-0. The audience stands and sings and yells and chants. On the other side of the net, Tsonga bops on his toes and flashes his famous smile. Andreev, like a million guys before him, puts his head down and walks, steadily and without expression, into the ad court. He sets his feet and bends into the ready position; obligation, rather than hope, is all he has left.
The crowd reaches peak roar. Tsonga bounces the ball madly, staring across at his opponent and victim. Andreev knows he’s the sacrifice, the bull at the bullfight. But he gets his feet moving and readies his racquet as if it’s the first point of the match. Tsonga’s serve arcs down the T. It’s an ace. Andreev starts his long walk toward the net.
Related Exciting Tennis Lesson and Program for kids and adults in NYC
rafael Nadal
y.caradec posted a photo:
Rafael Nadal (ESP) def. John Isner (USA)
Roland Garros 2011 – mardi 24 mai – 1er tour – Court Philippe Chatrier
Telavi – 2009. Tennis Tournament of memory Tamaz Antadze (Parcho)
Tamaz Antadze (01.06.1935-16.11.2002) one of remarkable people of Georgian people. He is the founder of the Georgian handball the Captain of a team which has won the first place in the first championship of the USSR on handball. In a life he was the fine builder the bard the artist and very much loved tennis Under direction of governor Kakheti Alexander Kobaidze and Tamaz Antadze in 1982 in Тelavi the modern tennis stadium and a hall for sports has been constructed. He had greater vital plans but unfortunately he has early died.
Video Rating: 5 / 5
Rafael Nadal
y.caradec posted a photo:
Rafael Nadal (ESP) def. John Isner (USA)
Roland Garros 2011 – mardi 24 mai – 1er tour – Court Philippe Chatrier
