small victories

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this whole tennis scene. I spent the 26th, Australia Day, at the Australian Open. Halfway through Andy Roddick's swan song, on a whim, I got a ticket for the next day as well. Sitting in 80 degree heat, wrapped in a towel, hat, and sunglasses, and doing lateral neck exercises all day is more exciting than one might initially think. Besides, Federer was playing.

His match against Davydenko was the hi-light of my two days at Rod Laver, but I also got to see Marin Cilic take down Roddick, Justin Henin defeat Nadia Petrova, Venus Williams lose to Li Na (quick Guinness check on world's simplest name?) and Serena steal a match from Victoria Azarenka.

Tennis is, over all else, a game of contradiction. For one, the players are noisier (and more vulgar) than the fans. Fans aren't allowed to cheer during play, make any kind of derogatory comment, or even leave their seats between games. I swear, there were moments I was afraid to cut a fart loose. This is a far cry from football, baseball, and basketball fans who regularly belittle players' names, physical appearances, personal lives, pets, and female family members. Tennis players, on the other hand, curse, whine, shout, whine, grunt, cry, whine, and in Andy Roddick's case, act like an absolute turd towards the official. Then in their post-match interviews, the winners smile, laugh, joke with Jim Courier as if they just finished watching a bad movie, and never fail to compliment themselves. I say this sport needs some hecklers, if only to instill some humility.

One thing I admire about tennis is how it is rooted in sportsmanship and respect. Players actually apologize if they win a point after hitting the net, or wind up to serve and stop. They shake hands with each other and the official after every match (which is something American sports could take a cue from). But these acts of good faith are really just for show. So let's look at sportsmanship in tennis. Did you see the Nadal/Murray hi-lights? Murray was mopping the court with Nadal. It really wasn't a contest. Nadal had a few good shots in there that he got pretty excited about, but his success was short lived. When he was down two sets, and it was clear he would lose the third, he suddenly succumbed to a knee injury. It was vintage Dangerfield, "Oh, my arm! I think it's broken!" For Nadal, it looked much better to lose because of an injury than to get swept in straight sets. Sportsmanship indeed.

Roddick seemed ready to employ the same strategy in his match before he started gaining ground. When it was clear he would lose the second set, he called the trainer out for a shoulder injury, and only returned after a lengthy massage. He won the next two sets, balky shoulder and all, but not without several patented Happy Gilmore "rotate your shoulder while grimacing" displays. So he set the stage for a bow out, but decided to keep going while he was winning.

This made me realize something unique to tennis, and other net sports, which is that your successes or failures aren't necessarily cumulative. You could hit the four most spectacular shots in your life and still lose a game. You could spend the first 2 sets at the hot dog stand and come back to win match. I could have subbed in for Federer for the first half-hour of play, and it wouldn't have had an impact on the outcome of the match. It's so much different than baseball, or football, where one play can end up winning or losing a game. So in a sport where every point doesn't count, especially when it's obvious a player will easily win or lose a set, it's pretty funny to watch both players essentially throw in the towel and go through the motions until the set is over. I've never seen anything like it in professional sports.

Just one more observation before moving on. Tennis is known as a gentleman's game, as most sports of British origin are considered to be. That's fine. It's rather civil and tame, a game of strategy and good manners, play for your country and whatnot. But let's spend an afternoon with an Australian Open ballboy. A coveted position, to be sure, but one that is not all privilege and glory. You spend an entire match standing behind the court, waiting for a nearly imperceptible head-nod or finger twitch before you pass on a tennis ball. The player asks for as many balls as he likes, keeps two, and with his back turned to you, slings the remainder in your general direction while you scramble to collect them before he is ready to serve. If you attempt to speak to a player, you will most likely be fired before the next match and disgraced within the ballboy community. Also, eye contact is right out. God help you if you look a player in the eyes.

But delivering tennis balls is a walk in the park compared to the kid who relays a player's towel to and from the court. Once again, looking for the nearly imperceptible hand signal, no eye contact, deliver the towel, wait while he dries himself and throws the towel in your hand, at your feet, or on the ground. If he hits you in the face with the towel, don't panic. Run back to your post before wiping his sweat and spit off your face. And of course, above all else, pray for a cool day.

OK, that's enough for now. I just realized I spent pretty much this whole post ripping on tennis, which isn't really fair because I don't know the sport all that well and I really did have a great time. Definitely the most memorable time I had in Melbourne. Maybe I just needed to vent a bit because Peyton is in the Super Bowl again, or because the Jets made it farther in the playoffs than the Pats, or because Ted Kennedy's seat was taken over by someone who is against his health care bill, or any other number of things that I would be more worked up about if I was back home, but seem so distantly trivial down here.

On the plus side, I filled up my car yesterday with the cheapest fuel I've seen so far in Australia, and I finally found a beer that reminds me of PBR. Things are looking up.