INDIAN WELLS, CALIF.—The second half of the day, with less sun.
3:15
Andrey Golubev has, however briefly, found a pattern that works against Novak Djokovic. Golubev is down a break, 2-4 in the first. Looser because he’s behind, he cracks a forehand crosscourt. Djokovic, looser because he’s ahead, cracks his own forehand back crosscourt harder than he normally does. It doesn’t work. Golubev redirects the ball down the line, and Djokovic, caught off guard by his own pace, is late to track it down. Soon after, Golubev hits another big crosscourt forehand, and the same scenario plays out. He wins that point and goes on to break. In the next game, though, Golubev is not as loose, and his forehand redirect down the line finds the net. He’s broken back.
Two things: (1) It takes precision to get Djokovic out of position, a level of precision that no one is sustaining at the moment. (2) If this is the best pattern against Novak—move him wide to the forehand, use his pace to go back down the line—it helps explain why Rafael Nadal hasn’t been able to crack him lately. It requires Rafa to win a point with his backhand rather than his forehand. Live by the left hand against one guy, die by it against another.
4:45
Are there players who are better to watch live than on TV? I’ve thought this was true of Caroline Wozniacki in the past, that you couldn’t appreciate her cussed energy through a screen. But I guess you have to be very close, because I didn’t get that feeling seeing her from a distance inside the big court today.
But I did get it watching Mardy Fish in the more intimate confines of Stadium 2, as he beat Andreas Seppi today. Like Wozniacki, from closer up you focus more on Fish’s shot production and less on the results. Where you see her energy, though, you see Fish’s smoothness. Like Pete Sampras’s, his service delivery is a model of casual efficiency. His backhand contact is silky. He carved under one drop volley that I swore didn’t make a sound. Yes, the forehand is makeshift and the stance is too open, and yes, Fish makes mistakes, but live the emphasis is in reverse—errors fade and the shot-making itself takes center stage.
5:30
What's the most common condition for a fan at a tennis tournament? Excitement, satisfaction, daydreaming, boredom? There’s some of all of that involved, but I think just as often there’s blindness. As in, you can’t find your way into a match, so you end up circling, hearing roars from inside arenas, seeing lines for miles at the entrances, unable even to glimpse the names on a scoreboard.
Or maybe it’s just me. This afternoon I went looking for a match and couldn’t find one. I walked down out of the press room and was greeted by the exciting, and dreadful, sound of a cheering mass of fans inside the nearest stadium. You could feel the tension of a tight finale. Other fans felt the same and moved toward the entrances. I waded into the lines, craned my neck to see who was playing, but couldn’t catch a name. Instead I circled the court, looked at the growing lines, and listened helplessly to the crowd react to the final, seemingly thrilling points.
On the other side, I saw an open entrance to a smaller court where fans were filing in. I followed. There were plenty of empty seats here, for a reason: One player had taken a medical timeout. Everyone else was sitting in that silent awkward limbo that comes over a court as a trainer works a player over. I filed back out.
From there, while dodging slowpoke fans and nearly running a few down, I passed another jammed court, one that was occupied by four doubles players whose names rang a very distant bell, and another where play was done for the day. I found myself back where I started. I hadn’t seen a player I recognized or a single point. Next to me was the stadium that had been rocking with excitement a few minuntes earlier. It was empty and silent now, the only sounds the flags at the top flapping in the breeze. I looked in. Two people were measuring the net. The players, umpires, ball kids and linesmen for the next match hadn’t even arrived on court. Out of options, tired of searching, I sat down and began to wait. Cheers came from the next court over.