Morning. I'll soon be heading back to the Albert Hall for the last day of the round robin stages of the competition at the BlackRock Masters, but here are some thoughts from yesterday.
As always, the organisers put on the most appealing match-ups in prime time - the last two evening sessions featured popular local heroes Tim Henman (Tues.) and Greg Rusedski. The tournament sold so many tickets for those matches that they reduced the size of the press box (to sell the seats). It hardly mattered to me, because I was able to sit courtside once again for both matches.
I said earlier that I might not be taking many photos once the event started, but I was way off the mark. Why did I end up taking so many pictures? Well, John McEnroe finally was back in the arena. It appears that he flew in to London later than some of the other players, so Wednesday was his first appearance.
What can you say about John McEnroe that hasn't been said many times before? After watching him lose to Marcelo Rios - 17 years McEnroe's junior - at this event last year, I thought McEnroe might be close to hanging up his racquets. But this year, Rios is nowhere in sight, and Mac is. That tells you about the mentality it takes to be a champion; a lot of it is about consistency. Mac is slower than he once was, and in decline in myriad other ways (aren't we all?), but one thing hasn't changed. He really does appear to hate losing as much as he always did.
I still remember my first sight (on TV) of the skinny young man who took Wimbledon by storm as a qualifier, and also delighted the tabloid press with his "uncouth" behaviour. He gave the older generation plenty to complain about regarding "the youth of today." It was the era of punk rock, though. Youthful rebellion and self-expression were in fashion, and my schoolmates and I found McEnroe and his antics worth consideration. When young McEnroe accused an umpire at Wimbledon of being "the pits of the earth" it seemed symbolic of the way that Britain was changing. The umpire was, afer all, a man with a distinguished war record. But who cared about that? Britain was still in the process of throwing off austerity (it began in the post-war era), questioning and showing less respect for authority.This is a sweeping generalisation, and not the only possible point of view. But McEnroe brought that gestalt into the ultimate, traditional bastion of pre-war British values, the All-England Club. He also pre-figured the "Cool Brittania" era.
I found McEnroe riveting from the start - not just for the unpredictable way that he played, but because there always seemed to be something about to erupt from him. Oh, I know that he upset a lot of people, including other players. But for me it wasn't as much a case of liking McEnroe as feeling him and his impact on the game in a visceral way. Among tennis-conscious Brits - more than a decent chunk of the population during Wimbledon - I don't remember many who were indifferent to McEnroe. He got people talking, and watching. People who didn't play the game, but were curious about it, found a new "hook." Tennis already had its first rock star by then in Bjorn Borg, but his temperament couldn't have been more different. Although he had his fits of pique, Borg respected authority. He'd mastered the art of self-control as a youth, and put on a steely game face for matches. It was intimidating and, to me, accounted for his strong presence on the court. But it didn't rivet bystanders.
In McEnroe, I was confronted by someone who let it rip, emotionally, on the court. And if it was often in negative, unpleasant ways, it always felt . . . real. And that became the word his apologists relied on so heavily. Mac became something of the anti-star. The authentic alternative to polished or calculating stars. He was a brooding, volatile presence. Naturally, this magnified everything he did, and affected the way the press dealt with him and how the public perceived and related to him. That, in turn, affected how he engaged the press and public. McEnroe had, above all, a persona. And that's like hitting the mother lode for someone who's a performer on a large stage. I wasn't much of a rebel myself, but I didn't need to be, in order to connect with McEnroe. He represented feelings and urges that I, along with everyone else, recognized - even if we didn't act on them, the way he did.
Tennis on TV often takes on a soap-opera quality. I put this down to the intense, extensive focus on the individual. We see everything - even feelings and thought processes, expressed in gestures, grimaces and body language. In fact, we even get to see the player's nearest and dearest suffering or soaring as the subject's fortunes rise and fall. It always struck me that McEnroe often did not appear to be enjoying himself on the court, and some of the observations in his autobiography bear this out.
In his early days, he wasn't a showman in the same sense as Vitas Gerulaitis. That is, he wasn't a charismatic individual who brought in the crowds because of his energy, hustle, positive emotions and glamorous aura. Vitas knew how to play to a crowd, and so did Jimmy Connors. But McEnroe seemed not to have a clue about that, which was truly odd in someone who had such a strong, almost theatrical persona.
Over time, McEnroe did become aware of his image, and he probably felt obliged to live up to it and the expectations it created. Given how controversial he was, things might have ended badly, with McEnroe somewhat misunderstood (or at least not completely understood, which is different). But becoming a commentator saved him at the 11th hour. We now know that McEnroe can be very funny - and he can take a joke. Nobody has undergone as comprehensive a rehabilitation as McEnroe - without having to disavow anything he ever did. Because what's funny is that when McEnroe sets foot on the court, the public still expects him to erupt - - it's part of what they have come to see. And of course, he knows this. And he tends to deliver. But it still looks real, and maybe it is real. This all has become maddeningly circular. Can something be both genuine and self-parodying?
Sorting through hundreds of photos after Mac's intensely fought and highly entertaining match with Cedric Pioline (McEnroe lost the Champion's tiebreak, 10-4 after the men split 7-6 sets), I was amazed at the range of McEnroe's facial expressions.He often looks as though he's trying mightily - harder, perhaps, than ever before. This is neither pathetic nor disappointing to a fan - if anything, most people seem to admire it. If you're a legend, and obviously a proud man, you don't want to fail, period. And certainly not in the profession you once ruled.
Watching McEnroe, I noticed some new habits and mannerisms. Surely it was Lleyton Hewitt who patented the fist pump and the "Come on!"? Well, Mac does that now, too (sadly, I missed this picture). He even does that Rafael Nadal combination fist-pump and leaping kick. I'll try to capture those exhibitions for you again in John's next match, and not out of mere obligation. It's enormous fun, trying to capture the human facets of the players. I know that I shouldn't really be reveling in the fact that McEnroe still doesn't seem to be enjoying himself, but I can't help it. It's fine theatre.
An afterthought: It's said that history is always written by the winners, and McEnroe certainly turned out to be that. What used to seem so wrong in his behaviour early in his career, has turned out to be the "new right" - if he didn't emote, complain about line calls, and berate umpires, as he did yesterday, spectators would be disappointed. Over the years, Mac has written his own Code of Conduct. The only violations, it seems, are allowing tranquility and order to rule the day. Obscenities were absent yesterday, but there were complaints and gestures aplenty. When the umpire made an over-rule during the Champion's tiebreak, I had to wonder if it wasn't done deliberately, to give McEnroe a chance to do what he does best: emote.
What's odd is that now that the use-by date has expired on all the cliches about youthful rebellion, and while McEnroe can be described by critics as an ill-tempered and sometimes boorish middle-aged man, he has never been more respected or credible. He's an acknowledged authority on the game. What's more, he's a figurehead - an ambassador who represents the game awfully well. It's as if everyone accepts the on-court McEnroe with a wink-wink, understanding that the poor guy is just trapped in a role he can't escape and feels obliged to keep playing. Maybe that's what happens when you define yourself as "real" through certain behaviors, meaning that if you cease those behaviors you're no longer real, or weren't really real back when. . . there's that circular thing again.
Before the evening matches, I watched a brief practice session. Jeremy Bates, Anders Jarryd, Greg Rusedski and Pat Cash shared the court, with Michael Stich looking on. After the discussion in the comments section earlier this week about the tension between Cash and Rusedski (as detailed in Cash's autobiography), it was interesting to note that Cash was acting primarily as Rusedki's hitting partner. But then, Cash did a stint as Rusedski's "coach", and later complained that he wasn't paid for it, which may account for some of the (not very) ill feeling.
Maybe it all comes down to this: boys will be boys.
The McEnroe-Pioline match was the headliner; the warm-up was Michael Stich vs. Greg Rusedski. Stich, looking sharp, squeezed out the Champion's tiebreak that takes the place of a third set. So McEnroe will now play Cash, and only one of them can advance out of the round robin.
I'll sign off for now - more tomorrow.
-- Rosangel