A Court with No Fame

By TW Contributing Editor, Ed McGrogan

Court 2 at the Rexall Centre is nice, for a practice court.  For match play?  You may want to look elsewhere, especially if comfort is of importance to you.

The court lacks even the most basic amenities.  There are no seats and no scoreboard, so when watching a match, your legs and ears become as important as your eyes.  You’ll need to listen intently to hear the score from the chair umpire, which can be difficult at times.  Whenever spectators are allowed to move on the neighboring Grandstand Court, a cascading rumble will sound behind you.

If this is where you’re expecting me to mention the court’s charm, you’d be wrong.  It’s a recent build, banished to the back edges of the grounds near a wooded field.  There’s nothing beautiful about it.  But it does come with some perks, namely that you can practically touch the action.

For a devoted tennis fan, Court 2 may be the optimal place to watch a match because of the proximity to the players.  You could whisper to a player returning serve while standing near the baseline, and will often have a better look at a ball than the line judges.

This intimacy can make for some unusual encounters.  If a kick serve is struck sharply enough, it could head towards you, so watch out for the ball – and the player trying to retrieve it with his racquet.  Other shots can stretch the court’s dimensions as well.  I know first hand, after nearly being struck by an overhead smash from Robin Soderling.

With this unique vantage point, you notice minute details no matter where the players are positioned.  That’s why I headed to Court 2 on Wednesday to watch Soderling’s second round match against Fernando Verdasco.  A six-hour rain delay backed up the schedule to the point where matches were being played on nearly all side courts.  A day earlier, the only reason fans headed to this remote outpost was to see Roger Federer’s practice session with Tommy Haas.  Now, a spot in the final sixteen of a Masters Series event would be determined here.

I assembled on the sidelines with a crowd of about ten, two of which being Soderling’s coach and female companion.  We watched two bashing baseliners go through the motions in warmups; it was still a spectacle to see from this range.  It’s one thing to witness this power on television, and another to see it a few rows up in the stands.  But standing five feet away provides an entirely new experience.

Soderling hits the ball slighty harder than Verdasco, though both were willing to trade shots from the baseline repeatedly.  The blue paint in front of them was akin to quicksand.  To Verdasco’s credit, his more versatile groundstrokes kept Soderling on his toes, and kept himself in the match.

The big difference between the two is the serve.  Verdasco’s kick serves troubled Soderling on ocassion, but the Swede always had a weapon that Verdasco had to contend with.  Early on, Soderling’s serves were struck with such velocity that they emanated a sound I’d never heard before.  (Primarily because I have never stood so close to the court before.)  I called it, “breaking the tennis sound barrier.”

These were not the only sounds we heard from Soderling.  At 4-4, after losing a 3-0 lead, Soderling had the first of many Swedish conversations with his coach, who stood right next to me.  At this point in the match, they were civil in tone.  But serving won Soderling the set – though not his own.  Verdasco double faulted three times in the final game to hand it to his opponent.

A baseline battle brought the second set to 5-5, but evidently, that wasn’t enough for Soderling.  Chats with his coach became more frequent, and the crowd, which had tripled in size, came along for the ride.  After all, he was more or less talking to us too.  Soderling’s coach said nothing back, but Robin remained chirping.

I didn’t envision how Soderling’s constant irritation could possibly help his cause.  Surely enough, he went on to lose the second set.  This time, it was Verdasco who broke the tennis sound barrier, cracking the hardest return of serve I’ve ever seen in person.  It drew “ooohs” from the crowd, and a tirade from Soderling.  The bird was still chirping.

By this point, Soderling was complaining no matter what happened on court.  Winners, errors, missed first serves by Verdasco (!) – they all led to more chirping.  Verdasco picked up on this, and let loose some “VAMOS!” chants at exceedingly high volumes.  Needless to say, it was an entertaining third set for the growing number of onlookers.  I had a front row seat to a high quality tennis match and a carnival sideshow.

To my surprise, Soderling didn’t implode in the third set; he actually played his best.  The match had stretched past the two hour mark, and fatigue started to become a factor.  Each player was using more energy, but for very different things.  Verdasco put everything he could into his groundstrokes, though they were still relatively powerless.  Conversely, Soderling was focused more on court position, giving him more time to generate the necessary pace.

It was clear that the Spaniard was working the hardest, and it caught up to him in the fifth game, when Soderling broke for a lead that he wouldn’t relinquish.  Surprising as Soderling’s victory was, even more astonishing was the fact that he said nothing when he got the crucial break.

One last note from courtside: During the third set, Verdasco called for the medical trainer.  It probably took five minutes for him to arrive, and then another eight passed by after a medical timeout was taken.  Soderling was none too pleased, and complained to the umpire.  When Verdasco and Soderling met at net after the match, there was some tension, and they continued to go back and forth at each other on their way out.

The bird was still chirping, and I heard every bit of it.  Find a court like this the next time you’re at a tournament, no matter the match.  You’ll thank yourself later.