A few hours ago, just as Nalbandian and Davydenko were winding up the first set, I thought: Why should I watch two seasoned, fairly tough, well-matched guys grind it out for hours on end? Surely I could go and find something a little more entertaining than that -  even if it's in a bad way.

And I did. Boy, did I ever!

My first stop when I sauntered way from the Centrale was the lopsided battle between Lucie Safarova and Anna Chakvetadze, on my preferred court, the No. 1 "bullring" stadium. At first, that pink dress of Chakvetadze and her wholesome single braid fooled me; but in no time I realized that it was a ruse.

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Maria

Maria

Chakvetadze was smacking winners left and right as she blasted her way back from on 0-6 second set to take control in the third. She was pumping her little fists left and right and letting loose a few Hewitt-grade "Come-awwwns!" By then, Safarova had that whipped dog look, mostly owning to Chakvetadze's display of pure firepower. The tennis was a perfect warm-up for what I would find when I strolled over to Suzanne Lenglen, where Patty Schnyder had already won the first set against Maria Sharapova.

Well, its all over now and to tell you the truth, looking at my notebook I don't even know where to begin. My notes are a wilderness of the symbols I denote to describe certain strokes, errors, situations. . . Man, it's a mess of exclamation marks, question marks, and one terse message to God: Please save me from this!

By now, y'all know that Sharapova won this thing, 9-7 in the third. What you may not know is that it was a train wreck of immense and vastly entertaining proportions - easily as compelling, in a sick kind of way, as watching half-a-dozen really unattractive people doing the Macarena. Who needs crafty Nalbandian and one-brick-at-a-time Kolya when you can watch a match featuring two women, neither of whom wanted to lose, and neither of whom could win? Sharapova couldn't close the deal because she clubbed the ball as if she were trying to kill baby seals while wearing tennis shoes on a sheet of ice, Schnyder because there is no end to the number of ways this otherwise pleasant and attractive Swiss Miss can find to blow opportunities, which never fail to provide wonderful opportunities for defeatism, self-doubt, bitterness - the whole nine of low self-esteem.

This one, folks, had it all!

From 5-all in the third, there were four consecutive service breaks (in addition to the 345 that occurred earlier in the match) before Sharapova held for 8-7, and then came about in the competitive harbor with all the dispatch and grace of an oil tanker. Schnyder broke Sharapova and served for it three times in succession. Sharapova fought her off each time and won that last game with a dollop of gamesmanship that, to be charitable, was the cheese course to finish off the deliciously ghastly meal.

How about this: Sharapova put up 40 unforced errors and 46 forced ones; Schnyder had 25 and 47, respectively, and all I have to say about that is that the person scoring this match must have been a gentleman who refuses to embarass ladies in public. In an oddly symmetrical companion stat, Sharapova was granted 41 winners - and there's no question she can hit winners - while Schnyder logged 24. Of course, many of those winners were hit when they had no bearing on anything.

So let me see if I can mine something not entirely of this moment from my notes:

It says somewhere in that chronicle of misfortune that Sharapova has a fundamental problem that isn't necessarily obvious, even though we all know that one of her chief virtues is the gusto with which she spanks the ball, regardless of the score or situation. Maria's power works against her when she's hitting the ball short and making scores of errors, and she has no recourse, because "medium" is not a word in her vocabulary. If it were, she might work her way back into the match, find a groove, and then dial-in the big guns again.

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Macarena

Macarena

I know: far easier said than done for a player as chained to a power game as Sharapova. But it's equally crazy to continue impersonating vintage Monica Seles - without vintage Monica Sele's depth, or placement. Man, it hurts me just to watch the way Sharapova's head snaps back as she hits that forehand, as if she has just been struck on the jaw by a Joe Frazier upper-cut. There's such a thing as leading with the chin - in fact, more women players (like Schnyder) probably should try it. But not when your jaw is made of glass that day.

And Schnyder? Don't get me started! Serving for the match at 6-4, break-point down, she hit a great first serve to Sharapova's backhand and stopped - just stopped, to watch. Now if there's one thing Sharapova did well in the match, it was fire backhand returns. In fact, it was suicidal for Schnyder to keep going to the port side, but when did that ever stop an unaware player? And on the occasion in question, watching to see what would happen next instead of making something happen led to Schnyder getting caught back on her heels, framing a ugly backhand wide.

At 5-5, the crowd once again broke into the increasingly familiar chant: Pa-tee, Pa-tee, Pa-tee. . . and just as the serenade was dying out, some jovial soul threw in: Allez Amelie. That's one of those Not Funny lines people trot out all the time, cheering for a player who isn't present, and I laugh at it about as often as I join in the general hilarity when a served ball gets stuck in the net. But when you think about it, Schnyder is basically Amelie Lite - a little less versatile, a little less powerful, slightly less athletic, but clearly smooth, talented and comfortable in her own skin as an athlete - something you would never say about, oh, Sharapova.

So anyway, there were also two controversial moments in the late stages of the match. The first one happened with Sharapova serving at 30-love for 8-7 in the third. Just as she tossed the ball, some cloun called out "Allez!" and just as the ball flew by, Schnyder raised her hand to indicate, "Hold it!" Chair umpire Stefan Fransson [[correction: chair umpire was Kader Nouni, Fransson is the tournament referee]] allowed the ace to stand. Schnyder protested, although not that much (she's a "not that much" type, through and through). The umpire refused to budge - which I thought was probably the right move -  and the girls went on acting out an execution, passing the knife back and forth to each other, above each other's throats, without actually doing anything, much like in that harrowing, endless scene at the end of Kafka's novel, The Trial.

The other incident was Sharapova's sudden decision that she absolutely, positively, utterly needed to have a new racquet with Patty Schnyder serving at 40-15 in the final game. It seemed a calculated act of gamesmanship, and Fransson slapped her with a Code Violation warning. Sharapova returned to the baseline to receive and never lost another point, which owed just as much to Schnyder's waning enthusiasm as Sharapova's new racquet.

Okay, I'm sick of the "warning" phase of the Code of Conduct system. These players know the Code, what the hail is the point of having a warning - especially when a player knows that, in a late, critical, stage of the match, he or she can buy a little time or mess with an opponent's mind and pay no greater penalty than a warning: Gee, don't do that again, you know it's against the rules!

That rule has to be changed.

However, I never felt Sharapova cheated or stole the match. She was far too incompetent to pull that off without having Schnyder as a co-conspirator. I asked Schnyder in her presser if Sharapova had engaged in gamesmanship. Unable to suppress a trace of bitterness, she replied: "Ask her.  I mean, I was there.  I was playing my points.  It didn't affect me.  And at the end, yeah, she was the big champion.  I'm the little one who could not win.  That was, yeah, the match today."

So Sharapova,  in my book, was 1-1 in controversies. I didn't think it right to take away her ace, and I thought it wrong of her to change racquets. When she was asked in her presser if she had ever considered playing the ace over because Schnyder might have been truly thrown off by the "Allez", she replied:  "It's hard to consider because, like I said, it's tough playing tennis and being Mother Theresa at the same time and making everyone happy.  You know, you're playing an individual sport; you're fighting for every single point out there. . ."

It was the second time in her presser that Sharapova pointed out that she is not to be confused with Mother Theresa, which left only one question in my mind: Whoever confused Sharapova with Mother Theresa?

Like I said, the match had it all.