ATP Backspin Special: A Day at the Fair

Have you ever been to a real live tennis tournament? It is an experience not to be missed. The players wander around and you can see professionals like Dimitrov and Tomic practice side by side. At the Apia Sydney international, Stosur is down the end of the practice courts. Who do you watch? It’s a win, win or win choice.

Good morning #Sydney! Day 3 is here at fans are eager to get inside the grounds! #SydneyTennis pic.twitter.com/osimJj0Knp

— Apia Intl Sydney (@SydneyTennis) January 11, 2016

I talked to a 15-year old who is likely already better than you or I will ever be, which gets depressing the more I think about it. I sat on Ken Rosewall Arena at 11:30, with a burned face, smelling of misapplied sun-lotion eating a bag of chips and awaiting Kerber and Makarova. I could endure the heat, even at well over 90, if the matches were good.

Kerber had, understandably, withdrawn leaving us with Errani versus Jankovic. I could only bear five games of it. Jankovic either hit an awful error or a wondrous backhand winner down the line but had nothing in between. Errani could not serve. I mean that literally. Wayward toss, paper soft first serves and doubles. It was embarrassing and after five games I could tell it would be awful.

So I left to see what the outer courts had to offer.

And what did I find? Puig and Schmeidlova were on one! And Ken Rosewall was doing autographs in the museum. I went and waited my turn for an autograph. By the time I got out, eagerly anticipating the match, it was over. Puig had lost just a game. I was about to settle for Bellucci and Dolgopolov, which was also on one but I thought I should check just in case. When looking I found Kuznetsova versus Lisicki was relegated to an outside court. And what a match it was. Down 3-0, Kuznetsova broke Lisicki on the way to a 6-3 set. She eventually won 6-3, 3-6, 6-2. Following that, I watched the entirety of Stosur demolishing Hantuchova then the end of Coric being routed by Muller. I was having a ball! And all this can be yours for the low, low price of 29.35 in US dollars.

The moment that was best was not meeting Rosewall but the gem on a backcourt I found at the end of the day. Vinci and Kuznetsova defeated Jankovic and Hantuchova 7-6[2], 6-3. That should be a footnote but it was brilliant. The four elder stateswomen came onto court giggling. They proceeded to muck around, have a laugh and, in Sveta’s case, fall down a lot. And do the splits a lot. They were still giggling at the handshake.

It was an apt end to the day. Halep was on KR Arena and it was in the shadow of this behemoth that the ladies played. But they didn’t look their age. Three are at least six years removed from their prime. All are over thirty; this was like middle aged, but forever young, friends in the park. They showed off, they danced and pranced. They sliced, diced and lobbed. It was as close to an exhibition as is possible to get. They kept the 100 strong crowd roaring throughout.
Playing in Halep’s shadow is so fitting. She has made them all obsolete. Four utterly different styles and all are exciting and explosive but Halep is the sand to their ignition of the fireworks. She is too solid and too boring for their magic and voodoo to work. She only comes to the net to shake hands. She and the rest of her hard-hitting baseline dwelling ilk have sadly reduced the players we fell in love with to shadows of what they were.

This is not a knock on the always impressive Halep. It is a mourning for what we have lost. You see, tennis players die twice unlike the rest of us. I shed a tear or two when Dementieva finally said enough was enough. The Romanian is machine-like whereas the four ladies playing doubles are original and anything but robotic.

But I would rather watch half an hour of any of these ladies when on song than two hours of Halep grinding on clay. And so would you. The thing they have that Halep doesn’t is heart and soul. She never knows when one just has to smile. They can have fun. She struggles with that in a way. She is too serious, too head down. They have so much spark and love to laugh, but she can’t do that on court. Even Serena can do that.

When I think of these four in ten years’ time, I could remember Hantuchova butchering a sitter of a volley to Ivanovic in Melbourne to surrender the break in the third after winning the first set to love. I could remember her spell in the top five. I could recollect Jankovic’s memorable runs in the hard court slams in 2008. I could recollect her talking to herself all the time. I could recall Vinci’s swashbuckling victories against greater opponents. I could recall Vinci and Pennetta having a friendly U.S. Open duel in the final. I could reminisce about BACKSPIN’S darling Sveta beating Serena in 2009 in Paris. I could reminisce about her incredible meltdowns and that awful U.S. Open semi.

But I won’t. Because entrenched in my memory is four forever young girls playing doubles together and laughing in the dying light of a Sydney summer day. It was not about stats, the future or about the next opponent. It was not even about money or rankings points. It was about drop shots, lobs and doing whatever you wanted to do.

Their careers are fading like that light. All four are deep in the twilight of their careers now. In three years’ time all these ladies will be gone. But for an hour and a half they weren’t veterans. They were young again.

Galileo.

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