Men’s-only Masters tournaments are modest events. The best guys in the world gather in relaxed environments, free of the tension that pervades the grounds at every Grand Slam. As exotic as the Italian Open sounds to us in the U.S., comparing it to the French Open is a little like comparing, say, Chapel Hill, N.C., to New York City. (Believe it or not, the Foro Italico consists of exactly eight courts.) Any spectator can feel the difference when they walk through the gates. And while the dual-gender tournaments in Indian Wells and Key Biscayne are no more prestigious than Rome, they’re significantly more frenetic and bustling. I guess that’s what you get when you put boys and girls together.
This week is like going back to boarding school. A very fancy boarding school. The men practiced this morning on perfect courts under pine trees and blue skies (which, alas, went gray quickly). Only a few stray fans, giggling teenage girls mostly, were there to bother them (can that really be so annoying?). Andy Roddick slapped five with Gael Monfils and did some impromptu ball-boying for Monfils and Arnaud Clement. Roddick started his own practice session with Max Mirnyi hitting smoothly. I left thinking that he may be ready for this one. I came back an hour later to find him smashing his racquet, dropping f-bombs, and scaring the girls in the stands. Guess he’s not ready just yet.
On the next court, Rafael Nadal and Carlos Moya were practicing specifically for their doubles match against Roger Federer and Stan Wawrinka. All the points went crosscourt, and Nadal was smoking both his serves and returns. They planted a third guy at the net on Moya’s side to simulate a doubles point, and Nadal, laughing, proceeded to try to drill the poor guy with every volley. (Rafa would have fit in well on a U.S. college-tennis team.) At one point Nadal tried a flick backhand crosscourt from the baseline that landed in the bottom of the net. Uncle Toni gave him a quick technique lesson—“extend, don’t cut the follow-through short” seemed to be the gist. Nadal smacked his next backhand past Moya.
When he was done, Nadal disappeared into a closed-off area up a flight of stairs. A few minutes later, a group of about a dozen girls took seats in the stands. Nadal’s bouncing head appeared for a second in a window upstairs; he was walking down a hall. One of the girls pointed at him. They all got up and screamed for a second; but they went silent when they couldn’t find him. Down the hall, Nadal’s head appeared in another window. This time they all caught a glimpse and began screaming, then went quiet again after he passed by. Another window, another brief Rafa sighting, another group scream, more silence. Finally, at the end of the hall, Nadal walked onto a deck outside. I think you know what our girls did.
There was a similar rock-show vibe to the Nadal-Federer doubles showdown later in the day. It was played in the second, smaller stadium, so all the kids—there were tons of them—ran down next to the court. Nadal and Moya came out in matching piratas; it was odd to think that Moya, who was virtually ignored all afternoon, is the guy on that team who has the higher career-best ranking (No. 1 vs. No. 2).
Nadal showed early that he has the fast hands and daredevil quality of a doubles player. Most baseliners never get comfortable making the surprise strikes and quick decisions around the net that doubles requires, but Nadal commits to every volley and attacks pretty fearlessly for a singles guy. While he may play a largely defensive game from the baseline, it’s clear that he has an offensive mindset.
Federer was laconic as always, specializing in the deft half-volley up the alley and the smooth ground stroke pass. He shanked a few returns on Nadal’s serve out wide and blew his share of balls, though Moya and Nadal were going almost exclusively at Wawrinka, who was nervous. When I was watching, Nadal poached on Wawrinka’s return virtually every time, but not once on Federer’s. Nadal and Federer both seemed to go out of their way to avoid drilling the ball in each other’s direction. No need to give the other guy any extra motivation.
It was big-brother Moya, though, who stole the presser afterward. Asked who had suggested that they play doubles, he said of Nadal, “He wanted to win a tournament so he asked if I can play with him.”
Then rain. I’ve been holed up in the press room for an hour or so. It’s a barracks-like area below the center court, with white walls and bright lights. There’s a festive atmosphere among the Italian journalists—lots of kissing and hands flying, but it’s not precisely where you want to spend an afternoon in Rome.
I’m looking at Tuesday’s schedule and see at least three worthy contests: Safin-Delic, Federer-Almagro, and Blake-Monfils.
What's next for Nadal and Moya? They get what they wanted all along: a shot at Jonathan Erlich and Andy Ram. Does that sound like, um, kind of a letdown? See you tomorrow.