These Boots Are Made For. .

Mornin'.

In case you weren't awake late last night to share in Ray Stonada's pre-dawn dementia - and more - the news today is that a number of you will be in Melbourne for the Australian Open, and we will definitely all try to get together, either in a nice little French restaurant for a brunch featuring a live string trio playing Brahms, or more likely in some joint with sticky floors, for a good old-fashioned crawl-away. So let us know if you're going to be in Melbourne, and remember to send Steggy any announcements, confessions, or personal bits you may want to share so she can publish them in the Tribe Notes section of her Monday Net Post column.

Speaking of Steggy. She's committed to attending Indian Wells, so we'll have flood-the-zone coverage. It seems like enough of you are interested in attending so that I'm going to try to set up some kind of deal that may (or may not) include discounted tickets/lodging, as well as a little get-together for those of you who do make it. I'll do my best. The big issue in the desert at that time of year is lodging; some of you may even want to share a room or rental car (they're handy). I suggest that if you're contemplating joining us, you book hotel reservations now. You can always cancel them at no cost 48 hours in advance if you have to bail. Flights, rental cars, etc. should not present a huge problem even if you book early next year.

For all you fans of Jim Courier's Champion's Tour, and the not-so-old-timers playing on it: Next week, Steggy will be providing daily, on-site coverage of The Stanford Cup, which is part of the Outback Champions Series put together by TennisWorld's friend, Jim Courier. That's right, picture Steggy with a media  credential, MobileSteggy, a fedora with a Press card stuck in the brim, and her killer black suede boots. My prediction is that she's going to charm the crust off those guys with her wry humor and we'll all benefit.

That of, course, is on condition that she recovers by then from last night. I had to poke a bit to roust her out this morning; turns out she went to a cocktail reception with her compadre Bill, he of the knock-off Birkenstocks and mad-geek genius, and blasted her way through a couple of bottles of champagne. Bill had to drive her home, but then he absconded with her car and hasn't been heard from since (ah, friends). Looks like the Hillbilly Princess will be walking to River Oaks Country Club for the Champion's event; we'll see how she likes those $1200 boots then (if my math is right, that's $600 per foot, right? AmyLu?). I suppose if worse came to worst, she could ride her St. Bernard, Snoring Max. Last thing she remembered about last night was being absorbed in a documentary on Giant Squid. How many tentacles was that, Steggy?

BTW, I thought it was great of Chris Lewis - yeah, that one, Wimbledon runner-up, 1983, among other things - to give MMY a a shout-out (via Rosangel) yesterday, you can check it out in the Georgia Fatwood comments (near bottom).

I guess that's the weekend wrap for me; I have some dead-tree drudgery to attend to, and I may finally get to submit my U.S. Open expenses. I'll peek in tonight, but am heading for the farm in game-rich Andes early tomorrow.

Next week, I make my debut as a blogger for ESPN (probably on Wednesday). It looks like I'll be doing two posts a week over there but it won't have any noticeable affect on my production here. It will be business as usual.

And lastly, I'm glad we have a lot of old-timers commenting here again, so welcome back McKevski, Creig, Vanfan, etc. I sure miss Lanty, Tim, Myskina+Trains=Tolstoy, Lydia and others. Hope you're at least happily lurking!

Final thoughts before we head into the final weekend of top-flight (sic) men's tennis in Bercy: The title is there for Safin's taking, which usually means he'll find a way to screw it up. No offense, Dominik and Nick, but the prospect of a Hrbaty vs. Davydenko final sends a shiver down my spine.

Steve Tignor dropped by my office a few minutes ago and added an interesting perspective on the Sampras vs. Federer discussion: He favors Sampras, partly because Pete was trained (by his disgraced, childhood coach, Pete Fischer) not just to hit the ball cleanly, not just to have an all-around game, not just to be able to make the most use of his serve, but also to win points and matches. The game was designed, first and foremost, to win tennis matches.

That is, there was a brutal efficiency about his game that is conspicuously lacking in so many of today's pros, even some top ones, who at times reduce a match to a rallying contest determined less by any strategy than by a fairly random toll of who happened to hit more winners - or make more mistakes - at important moments. Interesting question: in someone else's hands, would Sampras have been a more artistic - but less efficient - player?

I think there's a lot of truth in Steve's observation. Thus, a hypothetical (sorry, Sophie!) match between The Mighty Fed and Sampras could have yet another very subtle dimension: There's no doubt that TMF has learned how to play to win (his patchy early record underscores the nature of that hugely successful and now complete journey), but does he know what it's like to play against somebody who has an innate, easy, game-shaping drive to win?  This is a wonderfully subtle question that we ain't got a snowball's chance in hell of determining. . .

Have a great weekend, everyone. Don't forget to send Steggy material for Tribe Notes and feel free to bug her with your ideas and questions about The Stanford Cup. See you Monday.