One-Court Glory

!Llodra by Pete Bodo

Are you all done hyperventilating? Robin Soderling and Gael Monfils have added an interesting coda to what has been the finest fall of ATP tennis in recent memory, which is only fitting because neither player played a prominent role in the proceedings on the Asian hard-court stretch. In years past, when the very top players were fatigued or poorly motivated, it was precisely guys like Soderling and Monfils who stole what headlines were being written.

On Friday, I wrote a post for ESPN on the essential unwieldiness of indoor tournaments. Not all indoor events, of course. An eight-man or woman round-robin, with a few doubles teams thrown in, like they'll play in a little over a week in London, is a worthwhile and proven way to present the game. A Davis or Fed Cup tie is tailor made for an indoor stage, and I expect that point will be driven home again in Belgrade, Serbia, in a few weeks time. But a 64-player tournament—even if it does offer byes to the top seeds—crammed into an indoor arena that features just one court that can really be called a show court? It's crazy. Even if you're lucky enough to have a hometown favorite (and I'm not talking about Reeshard Gasquet) survive five match points to knock out Roger Federer in the semifinals.

Michael Llodra also did his share to make the BNP Paribas Open in Bercy a success (despite what appears to be his premature celebration in the photo above). He was within a point of beating Soderling three times before he succumbed, which was not only vastly entertaining both for the live audience and the global TV viewership, it provided the live spectators with a perfect damnation-redemption narrative. I'm sure that as I write this, Monfils is fist-bumping someone.

So Llodra and Monfils have ensured that this edition of the Paris Indoors, a Masters 1000 event, will be both successful and memorable. But it really took until Saturday—six days, give or take, into the event—to arrive at the point where we can rest easy. We might be feeling very differently had the draw, always unpredictable at this time of year, produced a different quartet of semifinalists, or matches considerably less riveting for those with a vested rooting interest. A tournament like Bercy is always two or three surprising results way from seeming mundane, if not for diehard tennis fans then for that vast horde of everyday sports fans who the game needs to attract.

Today's result also reminded me of just how how much credibility/legitimacy/heft Federer brings to a tournament. Given the chauvinism of the French, they would be over the moon in any event with the performances Monfils and even Llodra have put in this week. But it just wouldn't be the same if it were, oh, David Nalbandian or Fernando Gonzalez who played the role of the set-up men. You beat Federer in a big tournament and that's big news, with no qualifiers. You've done as much as any man can ask.

Like many of you, I totally enjoyed Gauloises' Bercy Diary this week, and the sheer pleasure and joy she took from attending this blue-chip event was obvious. So who am I to pontificate about the event, as I watch it from halfway on the world? Well, these days the vast majority of tennis fans and spectators watch every event from halfway around the world. And my feeling through most of the week of watching telecasts from Paris was that big-draw indoor events constitute a breathtaking waste (and devaluation) of the talent at the ATP's beck and call. The main court matches looked fine; sometimes they were nothing less than compelling. But gosh, those "outside" inside court encounters, featuring players of the caliber of Nikolay Davydenko or Ivan Ljubicic, seemed almost meaningless—to spectators, if not the players themselves.

Davydenko sure didn't play like he was a warm-up act (perhaps "filler" is a better word), but it looked like that's just what he was, smacking those slap-shot forehands and scurrying around the court like a red squirrel under a laden oak tree before what appeared to be a grand total of eight or nine spectators, with the oddly martial, borderline menacing house music drifting over from the unused main court for a sound track. And how about that black nylon net through which the Tennis Channel was obliged to telecast the action?  At the end of the day my feeling was, there must be a better way. Followed by, tennis tournaments are meant to be played outdoors.

I don't know that there's a solution to this problem. Either you have a big, traditional, knock-out tournament with a draw of at least 32 or you don't. If you go that route, indoors, you're basically asking the players—as well a spectators—to accept that at least three or four of your days will feature a whole lot of filler, even though it's not only relevant but sometimes crucial filler.

I guess the players understand this and agree to live with it for the common good. But you know what? Playing only main court, prime-time matches at an indoor venue is an enormous advantage to the biggest stars of the game. Never is the difference between the haves and have-nots in tennis so obvious—not even when it comes to the advantage having Hawkeye electronic line-calling at your disposal. At least Hawkeye is a tool available equally to both players on any court that is lucky enough to have it.

I don't want to rain on Monfils' or Soderling's parade; I know that they're both going to feel like they're playing for extremely high stakes in the final, and they'll do so in an environment second only to that of Grand Slam events. But I do wish the lords of tennis would take a good, hard look at the nature of indoor tennis, at least at facilities that can't offer first-rate conditions on at least three but preferably four or more courts.

At one time, John McEnroe made a big pitch for staging an indoor Grand Slam event. He felt that way because he knew that indoor events were inherently different; in fact, he preferred them, because of the ideal, lab-like conditions they feature. And if you look at tennis history, you'll see that some of the most artful, high-quality matches took place indoors (the Rod Laver vs. Ken Rosewall World Championship Tennis finals, as well as a few of those ATP Masters finals in New York immediately come to mind). Just how you provide a relatively level playing field for a draw of 64 when every court but your main one is, at best, an afterthought forced upon by the exigencies of the commitment is a question I can't answer.

McEnroe couldn't answer it, either. But the bottom line he pointed out is worth remembering: Indoor tennis is a distinct sub-set of the game, and in some ways it offers the players the closest thing you can have to ideal conditions. The most legitimate argument against creating an indoor major (besides the obvious retort—don't mess with tradition) has always been the one that stopped the idea from gaining any traction whatsoever. Where do you find a place big enough to host one under conditions comparable to the ones we have at the sprawling, outdoor venues?

One option that may be worth exploring is reducing the draw size at the indoor fall and winter events, with some sort of feed-in or qualification process that would still leave room for the usual shuttling of players on the acceptance or ranking lists. The one thing I know, for sure, is that playing a 64-player event in a typical indoor venue (and the facility at Bercy is otherwise outstanding) represents an absurd waste of star power. And for a viewer or spectator, it must diminish the sense that every match really is important and worth watching. To some degree, it's just a matter of looking at your talent, or product, if you prefer, and making a commitment to presently it in the most favorable, appealing light.

Indoor events rarely do that until the very late stages of the event. If everyone is willing to live with that, I guess there's no problem. I still think there must be a better way.