INDIAN WELLS, CALIF.—It’s 9:26 on Friday morning and Daniel Nestor is already grunting. Loudly. So loudly you might think it’s a joke, but as far as I can tell, it isn’t. He’s sweating, too, just like the other three players in the court with him. He and his partner, fellow veteran doubles expert Max Mirnyi, are playing what looks to be a pretty serious practice match against another team in the morning desert heat. Not too serious, of course. After Nestor hits a bounding kick serve that handcuffs the returner, the Canadian takes a moment to do a little mock-strut and crow across the net, “That a nasty second serve or what?”
Indian Wells is a tennis-player-lover’s paradise. Nowhere else can see so much of them—see them practice, see them kick soccer balls on the vast grass field next door, see them, eyes nearly rolling, do their obligatory, perfunctory, arm-band stretches, even see them sit around and eat lunch in their flip-flops. The dining area is in the open air; you couldn’t help but see a fitter-than-usual Marcos Baghdatis there this morning, smiling as usual, as you walked past. I guess you can’t expect anything else in a town that has an outdoor airport.
At times in the past, Indian Wells has seemed almost too open to the elements. On scalding afternoons, when I would be slumped in the stands on the verge of hallucination, I would come out of a stadium to see dozens of fans laid flat out under the precious few shade trees available. But since Larry Ellison took over this event, you can count on improvements, and this year’s is a titanic new permanent tent structure, equally titanic bar area included, where fans can stagger in from the heat and take a proper seat, with a proper drink, and keep up with the matches on a properly massive video screen. Ellison has brought in Hawk-Eye everywhere, constructed permanent seating around even the smallest side courts, and erected new stands for the practice courts. Next up, apparently, is that dull but necessary evil: parking. You can have all the seats and bars and video screens you want, but for the last few years, the place has lacked spots for the cars that come with those fans. To that end, the tournament is in the process of buying back some of the land it sold off when it was struggling.
Nothing seemed to keep the fans away early this morning, on the tournament's first big day. By 10, they had filled the bleachers to see a Novak Djokovic practice session. Next to him, Ana Ivanovic was working on her forehand, and nearby Maria Kirilenko was deep into a practice set. Kirilenko is all-business, all-concentration—and no shriek—when she practices. Watching her make 10 shots in a row only to lose a point with a backhand into the net on the 11th, I suddenly remembered that, as fun as this setting is for fans, it’s still work for the players. Anyone who has been forced to practice tennis every morning for months on end will feel their pain a little. Getting your feet moving, working up a sweat, bashing hundreds of practice balls without anything concrete to show for it. That’s grunt work. Even the way the ball came off of Kirilenko’s strings—with a heavy thud rather than an upbeat ping—sounded to me like the sound of work.
Not that they would trade it for another job. I don’t think any pro, other than perhaps Marat Safin in his crotchedy waning years, would consider that. And you could see some of the pleasure of their occupation in Djokovic’s session this morning. The fans who had braved the traffic and parking were there to see him, and a shirtless Nole obliged with a little bit of showmanship. At one point, he and his hitting partner had an all-tweener rally that lasted for half-a-dozen shots on each side. There was applause. There was sun. There was blue sky and mountains in the distance. There was another tournament and a new season ahead. Nice work if you can get it.