by Pete Bodo
'Noon, everyone. I'm finally emerging from the writing bunker, after finishing my Nick Bollettieri piece for Tennis magazine. I had never expected that a "day-in-the-life" story with Nick could end up so complex and choc-a-bloc with material that I felt was truly compelling - so much so, that I violated my own professional standards by writing a story of almost 5,000 words, while knowing full well that we could maybe run something half that length.
Here's a tip for any aspiring journalist out there - nothing irks an editor more than receiving a piece that's more than 10-15 per cent longer than the assigned length. An acquaintance of mine once had a plum assignment drop in his lap, from a high-quality publication (The Atlantic, I believe), on some sociological aspect of soccer. This guy is an intellectual and, all fired up, he threw himself into the assignment. He couldn't restrain himself, and ended up writing something like 30,000 words. Can you say, "disaster?" Part of being a good journalist, if not a good writer, is following direction and having the discipline and restraint to cherry-pick your material. There's a tipping point beyond which editing becomes a nightmare of rewriting, fixing transitions, and doing too much of the heavy lifting that the writer ought to have handled himself.
In my case, I knew length was a problem, but I really wanted to see what I had, in a best-of-all-worlds sort of way, before I cut. Besides, I didn't have to observe the conventions because we're a tight group here and, most importantly, I was the one who would have to do what cutting and/or rewriting was required. In this case, I felt that I had to roll the film if I was going to leave stuff on the proverbial "cutting-room floor", right?
So I wrote long, feeling semi-doomed along the way. But one advantage of taking that perverse route is that if the material really is as good as you think, you might earn yourself precious extra space. In this case, we were able to find room for 3300 words. First drafts are always reducible. You might be surprised at how much you can really edit out without doing real damage to a story when there's no option. In my case (since I edited it myself), I was able to get the story down to about 3800 words. Getting rid of those last 500, though, was a real bear.
Anyway, while I was at Nick's, I observed or chatted with a host of players - famous and obscure - including Kei Nishikori, Sabine Lisicki, Nicole Vaidisova, Filip Krajinovic (watch this rangy 16-year Serb with the ice-blue eyes - you heard it here first!) Taylor Dent, Michaela Krajicek, Ivo Karlovic and Jelena Jankovic. When I approached the Jankovics, who were watching Jelena practice, her mother Snezana said, "Ah, you're the one who doesn't like my daughter!"
"What?" I replied. "I'm crazy about Jelena."
I guess that Snezana has fallen into the classic defensive posture adopted by so many players or parents in her position: You're either for us, or against us. And if you suggest that my kid would be better served if she spent less time watching herself on the Jumbotron at the US Open, or that her world no. 1 ranking is qualified by the fact that she has yet to win a major, well, it's just because. . . you don't like us.
But I don't mean to be all serious about this, and didn't sense that Snezana was really feeling aggrieved. Like I've said before, I really like Jelena. She's the kind of person who brings a smile to your face (as well as to her own). If I were a footloose 25-year old, she's the one I would want to hang out with because she's funny and, perhaps, adventuresome. And that Mongol princess look? It works for me.
Incidentally, Jelena has added some muscle in the brief off-season, and she spent some of her down-time training at high altitude in Mexico with Pat Etcheberry. Nick is very high on her prospects for 2009.
