W: Momo and Nastya

I’ve already described Court 11 as Wimbledon's sleepy section. Located at the far end of the old grounds and covered with a canopy that ripples in the breeze, it invites a good doze. The fans are happy to take advantage. I went out to 11 during the second set of Amelie Mauresmo’s win over Virginia Ruano Pascual yesterday to find two people fast asleep in their seats, and one other whose head nodded farther . . . farther . . . farther, until he jerked up suddenly and blinked himself awake.

Compared to fans in New York, the spectators on the outer courts here are a stolid bunch. The show courts draw a well-dressed, well-coiffed, theatre-style crowd; Court 11 feels like a county fair. There are people in shirt sleeves sitting slightly hunched, utterly still, and politely attentive. There are red faces, crackers being crunched, coffee sipped through straws out of paper cups, and clapping after well-played points. When Mauresmo took a return of serve, followed it to net, and lost the point, the woman next to me said to her husband in a mild voice, “Bit ambitious, wasn’t it?” Otherwise, there was hardly any noise at all. I have to say: It was nice.

There wasn't a lot of noise coming from the court either, which was equally nice. At 28 and 34, Mauresmo and Ruano Pascual are too old for the grunt brigade. Beyond that, Mauresmo moves and hits more quietly than her younger WTA peers. Sometimes she seems to be caressing the ball over the net, and she walks with a light step.

Yesterday Marat Safin said Court 11 was so far away it was part of some “other club.” It was strange to see Mauresmo, the 2006 champion, playing in the far shadows of Centre Court. But you couldn’t have asked for a better setting for her vintage, and soon to be virtually extinct, style of play. Mauresmo, like her countryman Fabrice Santoro, is a testament to France’s comprehensive, all-court approach to the sport. It doesn’t produce many champions—though that may be the result of a more philosophical attitude toward world domination than we have in the States—but it produces classy players. Dedicated followers of the sport are drawn to the French.

Mauresmo, dubbed "Momo" by some of those dedicated fans, has been one of the country’s few tennis champions. But she’ll be remembered for her style and her nonchalant variety. After losing the first set yesterday, she found her form as I arrived. There was the carved crosscourt forehand volley. There was the jumping overhead; she doesn’t get up quite as far her old hero Yannick, but she moves gracefully, especially when she’s playing in all-whites on a gold-green court. There was the one-handed backhand, which she was hitting three ways—with an effortless slice, a violent, flyaway topspin stroke, and a slapped drive.

Of course, there was also Mauresmo’s weakly chipped return and too-extreme forehand grip that left her with little margin for error. Those have always cost her, and may cost her again in her next match, against Serena Williams. But let’s not dwell on her deficiencies for today. Mauresmo, who played with her usual leg wrap on Tuesday and has questioned her motivation this year, isn't exactly the last of a breed—the women’s game has been dominated by two-handed backhand ball-bashers for years. But she’ll probably retire sooner rather than later. Coupled with the departure of Justine Henin, this will rob the WTA of much of its lingering variety—how many effortless slices and charges to the net are we going to see in the future?

The French players may not become champions, they may insist on living well-rounded lives, they may question their motivation now and then, but they’re generally professional in their approach and enjoy the camaraderie of the tour. On court yesterday Mauresmo looked exactly as she always has—a pro’s pro, all business, never stern or angry, doing her talking with her racquet, a pensive look on her face as she hit the ball rather than a scream. In her press conference (conducted in a smaller interview room these days), she patiently answered questions, as she always does, smiling and brushing her hand through her wet hair. When asked what the key to beating Serena was, she said, “Probably the serve is very important.” You can tell she’s taking it one match a time, and she was happy to make it through this one.

I walked out of her presser when she switched to questions in French, but it was being shown on the TV monitor at my desk. At one point I looked up to see Mauresmo with half a dozen tape recorders stuck a few inches in front of her mouth. She looked like was drowning as she answered questions. But she was laughing all the time.

*

It’s not as quiet on the other side of the grounds. On little Court 17, 16-year-old Russian Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova is grunting. All the time. “She makes noise on every shot,” someone near me says. It’s true, but it seems normal to me at this point. A girl hits hard, a girl makes noise. Otherwise, how would we know she was committed to conquering the world?

Pavlyuchenkova, called "Nastya" by an encouraging friend in the crowd, is squat. She has strong legs and a compactly powerful game that revolves, unsurprisingly, around explosive, flat ground strokes. On the plus side, she gets great extension on her two-handed backhand, launches herself into her forehand, works well with pace, makes clean contact on her serve, and goes to war on every shot. On the minus side, she has a weird, slingshot-style service toss, she struggles with hard-hit serves and on defense, has no variety of spin that I can discern, and gestures angrily toward her entourage in the crowd when she misses.

In other words, Pavlychenkova,, the youngest player in the women’s draw, is this week’s future of the WTA. In the first round here, she beat last week’s future, Alizé Cornet, in two tiebreakers. Wednesday she beat a solid pro in Li Na, 2 and 4. Pavlyuchenkova has been the No. 1 junior in the world for the better part of two years. She comes from the Russian school of bash, but she’s now at the Mouratoglou Academy in France, where Marcos Baghdatis learned his trade. We'll get a better idea of where she stands in her next match, against the red-hot Agneiszka Radwanska.

Should we mourn the idea that Pavlyuchenkova is coming in at the same time that Mauresmo is passing her prime and Henin is calling it quits? Should we hope that the French way rubs off on her a little? The Russian certainly plays a different brand of tennis. It has its thrills—watching the 16-year-old step into a forehand and drive it past a helpless Li is a rush, and her intensity is compelling. The pleasures of Mauresmo’s game are less eye-popping, but they’re more satisfying in the long run. Even when she floats a chip approach long, the stroke itself is still something to see. You may raise your eyebrows when a young Russian blasts a two-handed backhand, but you nod your head when Mauresmo leaps to caress a perfect crosscourt volley. Whether it wins her a Wimbledon trophy or even another round, you know that’s how tennis was meant to be played. As I want to tell the fans around me on Court 11: Don't fall asleep while Amelie Mauresmo is still doing her many things.