Perusing through the early rounds on the computer last night I stopped in to watch just a bit of Gilles Simon playing Mikhail Kukushkin. Even though it was apparently a close match it failed to get my interest in the slightest so I moved on to Kei Nishikori playing Mikhail Youzhny.
This was even more boring if that would be possible so hung in there and tried a little of Andrey Rublev and John Isner. Rublev as you remember was the subject of a thread earlier in the year or maybe it was last year. He was featured on a video practicing with Fafa Nadal. It was slightly interesting as I had seen Rublev playing at the French Open in Paris this year against Stefan Koslov. But this match also fell flat as far as being captivating or compelling in any sense of the word…or words.
The American hopeful Jack Sock defeated Fabulous Fabio Fognini. Fab Fognini appeared to be more interested in getting the match over with to get a taste of the Miami night life. I can't say that I blame him. I remember dancing with this Nicaraguan Lady at some Tiki Bar drinking a Gumba Smash back in 1987…on my 33rd birthday. She was wearing a bikini. It was a full moon…a blue moon as I remember. But I digress. Jack Sock is one ugly tennis player and I am not talking about his haircut. But modern tennis is lacking in style overall so Jack doesn't necessarily stand out in this regard. He could do more with his hair though.
I tried to find something of interest. There wasn't much to do after a tough day working out in the farm. I have a break from the tennis for a week. A much needed rest. God knows that I need it. But still…it gets under your skin. The tennis does. All I needed was a little fix. Something good to watch…to keep me from searching for something good to eat. Lo and behold…I found something rather compelling. Even though it wasn't in the positive sense.
Guess who? Serena Williams of all people…she was playing the unusual and "quirky" Monica Niculescu. I wanted to say unorthodox but hesitate to use that word. Still smarting from the dressing down bottle gave me when I call Marion what's her name unorthodox. That was years ago. But I haven't forgotten…the mind is like a "steel trap". Even if the body isn't what it used to be. What is her name anyways…its Bartolli. That's who it is…she is considering a comeback from what I hear. But anyways…I digress again. Back to Serena…where to start?
The first hour or so was a taped match of her return to Indian Wells. She must have begun with some sort of standing ovation and it all went downhill from there. I hate to do it but you simply couldn't get past the wardrobe. In a word…hideous comes to mind. All pink…right down to the shoes and socks. Was it a joke? An oxymoron? Worse? The Nike dress was a cutaway that exposed more than half of her back…could it get any worse? Will she ever forgive me? Do you think she really cares? Do you think that I do?
Once you got past the wardrobe…if that is ever possible. You had to watch the behaviour. Now this was just after the huge show of affection for the returning daughter after the supposed whatever happened so many years ago. Serena was showing off her all-forgiving policy of never letting a wrong go unforgiven…if there was a million bucks involved. How simply huge of her. Speaking of huge…she is by far the most muscular athlete on the professional tennis tour. Male or female. I can mention that…can't I? Observationally speaking. Ok…that might be an exaggeration…but only a slight one.
Monica Nicolescu plays a very strange game. She actually plays a "body fly" underspin forehand. Plenty "quirky" alright. I want to say unorthodox…but there's bottle and his anger. So Serena is dumping balls here. Dumping balls there. She's having fits all of the time. Screaming. Fisting. Acting positively homocidal. Apparently unable to control herself. Or is she hamming it up? She's a queer one. The behaviour certainly didn't match the demure pink teddy that she was wearing in lieu of a real tennis dress. It certainly didn't match the "cute" pink sneakers that she had color coordinated with her inestimable fashion sense of…well I am not certain how to put it. But the behaviour was really strange all things considered. It was afterall a "coming back" party (not a coming out party) to Indian Wells…the supposedly scene of the crime. Benevolent and demure Serena.
She did manage to win her match in Indian Wells. She managed to win last night in Miami as well. But I wonder…how does the general public consume this show. As I watched it kept occurring to me that I have been repeating that professional tennis is beginning to resemble "Big Time Wrestling" more and more. That shouting. The curtain calls. The screeching faces howling like monkeys…or worse. The clothes…the costumes. The unisex play…standardized play (sounds like standard-eyesd not standard-iced) The lack of one hand backhands and general all-court play in general. What is holding this fiasco together? That pink dress?
But it is early. Its only the round of 32. There's better days ahead. There's Rafa…there's Djoko…there's anybody else? Too bad John McEnroe isn't in the house. Or Ilie Nastase. Somebody…please! At least if Roger Federer was here there would have been something resembling the "real thing". But then again…he is the last of the "Living Proof".
But please tell me otherwise. Correct me if I'm wrong. I want to be wrong…trust me. Even though I tell my students…"I'm always right". They smile at each other. At me. They know I'm joking. At least they think I am. Maybe they aren't too certain.
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