W&SFG Masters Highlights (2/2)
More highlights from this year's trip. I won't have photos before this weekend, so I'll upload and post some videos in the next few days to kill the time.
Also, I found myself randomly inspired to write another Torchwood fic. In the middle of the tennis season, fresh back from Ohio, and I'm thinking about Torchwood. (It may be because I just saw the last two Dr. Who episodes when I got back.)
Stupidest Things Said Directly to Us:
On a quiet morning early in the tournament, my friend had her photo taken with Nico and afterward a few other people asked him for autographs. One was a woman who approached us immediately after he had gone. The conversation went something like this…
Her - Do you know who that was?
Me - Nico Lapentti.
Her - (blank look)
Me - Nico Lapentti.
Her - Oh, so you know him?
Me - Well, we like him, and we know who he is.
Her - Is he playing here?
My friend - (taking over because I’m clearly getting annoyed) Yes.
Her - Oh…(still looks confused)…Where is he from?
My friend - Ecuador.
Her - (looks more confused)
My friend - (again) Ecuador.
Me - (because I’m the bitch) It’s in South America.
Her - Oh, okay. Are you from…where he’s from?
My friend - No, we’re not from Ecuador.
Her - Oh, well. (thinks a moment) Well, I think that’s just super, that you’ve embraced someone who’s…
Me - (resists the urge to say, “What? Brown?”)
Her - …Not from where you’re from.
Seriously, if people could just stop talking to us, that would be great. Thanks.
Best Human Target:
Nico Lapentti. After two years straight winning this award, Nicolas Almagro was a no-show, so somebody had to fill in for him, I suppose. At the start of a Tuesday morning practice, Nico got down on his knees opposite Carlos Moya and stayed there, laughing, while Carlos hit some serves. None hit him, of course, because Carlos would never hurt Nico. (He’s practically adopted.) I don’t know if he lost a bet or what, but they were having so much fun, there was clearly nothing mean-spirited about it. Plus, seeing Nico on his knees for Carlos…porn!…ahem.
Most Out-of-Character Moment:
Arnaud Clement’s attitude toward ball kids is well known. In his first round match against Thomas Johansson, we noticed that he seemed to be lightening up on them during play, but the real test, of course, is the changeover. After getting the umbrella just where he wanted it and arranging his towels and his water bottles and wiping off his sunglasses, he began to reapply his sunblock war paint. Imagine our surprise when he finished, then reached up to the ball kid holding his umbrella and applied some to his nose, too. He seemed genuinely tickled by his own kindness, so it was probably a good thing that he didn’t see the kid scrub it off as soon as he turned away. Still, it was decidedly sweet, coming from Arnaud. (One theory: Arnaud has decided to start marking what he considers nearly-competent ball kids. “Bring me the ones with the pale noses!” he demands.)
Most Likely to Keel Us:
Igor Andreev. We haven’t been fans of Igor for long, just since last year’s Davis Cup final, which is probably why were so eager to see him in Ohio. And he made us wait. We watched the practice courts closely over the first weekend, but there was no sign of him. Monday came and went, and still nothing. He wasn’t on the practice schedule on Tuesday, either, but his match against Stepanek was due to start at 7pm on the Grandstand, so we knew he had to be there somewhere. Finally, less than two hours before his match, we caught him practicing. We were just so happy he was real that we settled in to watch the match thinking it would be fun. Ugh. Little did we know that his matches were going to be more like torture sessions. He went 7/6, 6/7, 7/6 against Stepanek, in a match that took over three hours. The next day, we happened upon him walking toward the player’s restaurant, all by himself, and when we passed him, I called out, “Igor, you killed us last night!” He had the good sense to look embarrassed and shrug, but apparently I didn’t get the message across, because he then went 6/3, 6/7, 7/5 against John Isner later that day. It was almost a relief when he finally lost to Carlos in straight sets, 6/4, 7/6.
Most Likely To Make Us Say, “…The Hell?”:
The scoreboards. They have never been so screwed up. Once we saw one that listed Gustavo Kuerten vs Tim Henman, which was a match that took place about seven years ago. On Monday night, it alternately showed Mario Ancic playing his match against Jose Acasuso on the Grandstand, or Capdeville. (It was Capdeville, because Mario withdrew.) Best were the tiebreak scores. Once, we noted a tiebreak score of 72/46. Another time, 63/66. I have no idea what was going on there, but it was quite annoying.
Runner-up goes to Roger, losing to Ivo Karlovic…the hell?
My Friend’s Most Embarrassing Moment:
After watching him practice, my friend decided it was good time to get her photo with Nenad Zimonjic. She asked him in the narrow walkway outside the court just as he was coming through the gate, and he said, “Sure, of course.” Then she turned to move to his side, and stumbled. Neither of us are positive what happened exactly, but one moment she was upright, and the next she was falling into him, trying to catch herself on his sweaty, slippery bare chest. Between the two of them, they managed to keep her on her feet. The whole time she was saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” and he kept telling her, “It’s all right.” Eventually, she situated herself beside him, still hanging on, and I got the photo.
There were several other people there waiting for autographs, and one girl keenly observed, “Well, if you’re going to fall, it could be worse…” I agreed whole-heartedly.
The photo turned out great, by the way. I had my photo taken with him, too, and did not fall.
Biggest Olympic Cop-Outs:
Oh, France. Usually so dependable, but not this year. Four years ago, it was obvious that a lot of players were putting in the minimum effort so they could get out of town and head to the Olympics, including Roger. This year, none were so blatant than the French. None of them made it past the second round, and half of them retired or withdrew rather than simply losing. Even Gilles Simon, coming off two hot weeks that saw him win one tournament and get to the semifinals of a Masters, after beating Roger, went down to Blake in the second round. The only French doubles team entered, Arnaud and Mika, never even played. Worse, by Wednesday, they were all gone except Florent Serra, notably not on the Olympic team. Even he had vanished by the end of the day.
Best Sign:
“Moya will destroy-ya.”
And the runner-up has to be our slapped together sign that read, “Go Polish Boys!”, made from medical tape and a plastic tablecloth. Not only was it the first sign we’ve ever made, but we gave up a very precious few hours of sleep to make it, just so Mariusz and Marcin would know someone was rooting for them against the Bryans. (And, we had our photo taken with them, holding it!)
Best Spectator(s):
Nenad Zimonjic and Janko Tipsarevic. Both showed up at the final to support their boy Nole. Rather than sit in player’s box by the tunnel, they circled around with Nole’s coach and trainer to sit in the opposite corner. That meant walking past our seats. There was a hilarious moment when my friend said, “Hey, here comes a guy who looks like Janko.” I turned to look, and replied, “Oh, and there’s a guy who looks like Nenad.” Then, of course, we realized that we were both right. And damn did they look good.
The runner-up is Nico Lapentti. After his 3rd round victory over Fernando Verdasco, he made an appearance at Rafael Nadal’s match against Tommy Haas, sitting alone in the press row for several games, then chatting with Uncle Toni for a little while before leaving. He looked good, too, and radiantly happy.
Stupidest Things Overheard:
Before the Bryans / Fyrstenberg and Matkowski 3rd round match, we overheard this exchange between the people sitting behind us…
“Who’s playing next?”
“Um…the Burns, I think.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know…they’re supposed to be pretty good.”
(After the Bryans and the Polish boys have taken the court.)
“Are the Burns’ brothers?”
“I think so.”
“They look a lot alike. They could almost be twins.”
And later, AFTER we’ve hung out our giant “Go Polish Boys!” sign right in front of them, the conversation continued…
“Who are these other guys?”
“I don’t know. I think they’re French.”
“Oh, yeah. Their names don’t sound French, though.”
“You’re right, they don’t.”
Most Likely To Wear A Watch:
Tommy Robredo. Because he wears a watch. All the time. Everywhere.
Least Likely to Wear Underwear:
Janko Tipsarevic, who was seen at practice with sagging shorts and no underwear in sight…twice. On second Sunday, while practicing with Tommy Robredo, we saw Tommy’s coach ask him something, and Janko pulled out the front of his shorts, looked down, then just shrugged.
Last Practice:
Tommy Robredo and Janko Tipsarevic, on semifinal Saturday, on court #4. We actually heard Tommy’s coach setting this up with Janko the day before, but it was still a delight to find them there. They didn’t work very hard, no drills or practice sets, but instead played a bunch of games. The best was a serving competition for which they set up a bunch of bottles on the opposite court and took turns trying to knock them over. It seemed that a bonus of knocking a bottle over was getting to hit balls at the other player when he went to retrieve it, but they only did this a couple times. Once, after Janko had scored, we heard him saying to Tommy, “You go. I wait until you come back.” In the end, Janko won, something like 7 to 2. We did not see if Tommy’s coach bought him ice cream after. (See also, “Best Player’s Quotes”.)
Most Spectacular Slip:
During their semifinal match against Bhupathi and Knowles, one of the Bryans was chasing after a sharply angled volley when he skidded into one of the coolers positioned near their chairs. He went down, and the cooler came with him, soaking him from the waist down. Ice, water, and Powerade went everywhere, but the ball kids and volunteers were very quick to swoop in and start cleaning up the mess while the Bryans moved their bags out of the way. In the end, they just shoved the whole thing into a pile and covered it with towels, and play continued. They went on to win the match, darn it.
Best Chair Umpire:
Muhamed…something, from Sweden. He was freakin’ hilarious this year.
We Cheered The Loudest For:
Our Polish boys, Mariusz Fyrstenberg and Marcin Matkowski, during their quarterfinal match against the Bryan brothers. Mostly, we were just trying to balance out the persistent annoyance of the “Bryan Bunch”. They made it interesting and fun, but did not win.
We booed:
Etienne de Villiers. Understand, we don’t boo people. It’s rude and pointless. But I had too.
Most Valuable Player:
Nico, Nico, Nico. After years of only getting to see him in the qualifiers or at practice, Nico Lapentti returned to the main draw with a vengeance. We did not miss a single one of his matches, and probably saw most of his practices as well. He entertained up with his bobbing, his chocolaty goodness, and his choice of practice partners. He was beautiful, charming, and absolutely ferocious on the court. We went into this year wondering if we’d ever get to see him winning, and if we never do again, at least he went out with a bang.
Most Valuable Country:
Serbia. This is the first year that the award has gone to a country other than Spain or France. But the Frenchmen split early this year, and the Spanish…well, we love them, but the special moments we got from the Serbian boys easily outweighed them. Highlights included Nole’s hilarious reaction the photo my friend asked him to sign, Nenad’s charm when my friend nearly fell over and had to grab him to catch herself, and Janko’s persistent lack of underwear. To seal their place, all three of them showed up at the final, Nole playing Murray, and Nenad and Janko sitting in the stands watching.
Best Player Quotes:
Tommy Haas, during a practice with Roger, after hitting a forehand that went out - “Change direction, you son of a…gun!”
Marin Cilic, to his tiny, smiley coach, during practice - “You are like a keed.”
Marin’s Coach, grinning - “Well, I get excited!”
Gael Monfils, 6’4”, seeing Ivo Karlovic, 6’10”, coming off the practice court - “How are you doing, big guy?”
Arnaud Clement, to the utterly silent crowd at his first round match - “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Mariusz Fyrstenberg, laughing, to Janko Tipsarevic after Janko accidentally hit a ball onto their court during practice - “Hey! Play on your own court!”
Janko, not laughing - (gives Mariusz the finger)
Tommy Robredo’s coach, repeatedly bribing Janko Tipsarevic into continuing to practice with Tommy on the second Saturday - “Ice cream. Three scoops.”
Randomness:
Carlos is an optical illusion. On television and from a distance, he looks like a normal, albeit stunningly handsome, man. First, he is enormous. Second, he moves very slowly when he’s not running around. Lastly, while it is easy to say that Carlos is lovely because of the combination of his flaws, sometimes in person the flaws seem, well, like flaws. Then the light catches him just right, or he smiles, or he hits a forehand, and, pow, there’s the beautiful again.
Feli is just stunning. Literally stunning. I can never quite believe it.
There were a lot more no-shows than previous years. Most missed were Sebastien, Max, Lleyton, and Almagro among the players, and Remi and Bruno among the coaches.
Every time we watched Janko practice, someone asked him if he was going to play golf.
The people in Ohio call Nole “Novak”. Now, I know it’s his name, but no one calls him that. He doesn’t even call himself that. And yet, all we heard during matches was “Novak!” I counted three “Nole!” cries during the final, total.
Tommy (Haas) hops.
Andy wags.
Rafa wriggles.
Nico bobs.
And now we’re sad.
Also, I found myself randomly inspired to write another Torchwood fic. In the middle of the tennis season, fresh back from Ohio, and I'm thinking about Torchwood. (It may be because I just saw the last two Dr. Who episodes when I got back.)
Stupidest Things Said Directly to Us:
On a quiet morning early in the tournament, my friend had her photo taken with Nico and afterward a few other people asked him for autographs. One was a woman who approached us immediately after he had gone. The conversation went something like this…
Her - Do you know who that was?
Me - Nico Lapentti.
Her - (blank look)
Me - Nico Lapentti.
Her - Oh, so you know him?
Me - Well, we like him, and we know who he is.
Her - Is he playing here?
My friend - (taking over because I’m clearly getting annoyed) Yes.
Her - Oh…(still looks confused)…Where is he from?
My friend - Ecuador.
Her - (looks more confused)
My friend - (again) Ecuador.
Me - (because I’m the bitch) It’s in South America.
Her - Oh, okay. Are you from…where he’s from?
My friend - No, we’re not from Ecuador.
Her - Oh, well. (thinks a moment) Well, I think that’s just super, that you’ve embraced someone who’s…
Me - (resists the urge to say, “What? Brown?”)
Her - …Not from where you’re from.
Seriously, if people could just stop talking to us, that would be great. Thanks.
Best Human Target:
Nico Lapentti. After two years straight winning this award, Nicolas Almagro was a no-show, so somebody had to fill in for him, I suppose. At the start of a Tuesday morning practice, Nico got down on his knees opposite Carlos Moya and stayed there, laughing, while Carlos hit some serves. None hit him, of course, because Carlos would never hurt Nico. (He’s practically adopted.) I don’t know if he lost a bet or what, but they were having so much fun, there was clearly nothing mean-spirited about it. Plus, seeing Nico on his knees for Carlos…porn!…ahem.
Most Out-of-Character Moment:
Arnaud Clement’s attitude toward ball kids is well known. In his first round match against Thomas Johansson, we noticed that he seemed to be lightening up on them during play, but the real test, of course, is the changeover. After getting the umbrella just where he wanted it and arranging his towels and his water bottles and wiping off his sunglasses, he began to reapply his sunblock war paint. Imagine our surprise when he finished, then reached up to the ball kid holding his umbrella and applied some to his nose, too. He seemed genuinely tickled by his own kindness, so it was probably a good thing that he didn’t see the kid scrub it off as soon as he turned away. Still, it was decidedly sweet, coming from Arnaud. (One theory: Arnaud has decided to start marking what he considers nearly-competent ball kids. “Bring me the ones with the pale noses!” he demands.)
Most Likely to Keel Us:
Igor Andreev. We haven’t been fans of Igor for long, just since last year’s Davis Cup final, which is probably why were so eager to see him in Ohio. And he made us wait. We watched the practice courts closely over the first weekend, but there was no sign of him. Monday came and went, and still nothing. He wasn’t on the practice schedule on Tuesday, either, but his match against Stepanek was due to start at 7pm on the Grandstand, so we knew he had to be there somewhere. Finally, less than two hours before his match, we caught him practicing. We were just so happy he was real that we settled in to watch the match thinking it would be fun. Ugh. Little did we know that his matches were going to be more like torture sessions. He went 7/6, 6/7, 7/6 against Stepanek, in a match that took over three hours. The next day, we happened upon him walking toward the player’s restaurant, all by himself, and when we passed him, I called out, “Igor, you killed us last night!” He had the good sense to look embarrassed and shrug, but apparently I didn’t get the message across, because he then went 6/3, 6/7, 7/5 against John Isner later that day. It was almost a relief when he finally lost to Carlos in straight sets, 6/4, 7/6.
Most Likely To Make Us Say, “…The Hell?”:
The scoreboards. They have never been so screwed up. Once we saw one that listed Gustavo Kuerten vs Tim Henman, which was a match that took place about seven years ago. On Monday night, it alternately showed Mario Ancic playing his match against Jose Acasuso on the Grandstand, or Capdeville. (It was Capdeville, because Mario withdrew.) Best were the tiebreak scores. Once, we noted a tiebreak score of 72/46. Another time, 63/66. I have no idea what was going on there, but it was quite annoying.
Runner-up goes to Roger, losing to Ivo Karlovic…the hell?
My Friend’s Most Embarrassing Moment:
After watching him practice, my friend decided it was good time to get her photo with Nenad Zimonjic. She asked him in the narrow walkway outside the court just as he was coming through the gate, and he said, “Sure, of course.” Then she turned to move to his side, and stumbled. Neither of us are positive what happened exactly, but one moment she was upright, and the next she was falling into him, trying to catch herself on his sweaty, slippery bare chest. Between the two of them, they managed to keep her on her feet. The whole time she was saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” and he kept telling her, “It’s all right.” Eventually, she situated herself beside him, still hanging on, and I got the photo.
There were several other people there waiting for autographs, and one girl keenly observed, “Well, if you’re going to fall, it could be worse…” I agreed whole-heartedly.
The photo turned out great, by the way. I had my photo taken with him, too, and did not fall.
Biggest Olympic Cop-Outs:
Oh, France. Usually so dependable, but not this year. Four years ago, it was obvious that a lot of players were putting in the minimum effort so they could get out of town and head to the Olympics, including Roger. This year, none were so blatant than the French. None of them made it past the second round, and half of them retired or withdrew rather than simply losing. Even Gilles Simon, coming off two hot weeks that saw him win one tournament and get to the semifinals of a Masters, after beating Roger, went down to Blake in the second round. The only French doubles team entered, Arnaud and Mika, never even played. Worse, by Wednesday, they were all gone except Florent Serra, notably not on the Olympic team. Even he had vanished by the end of the day.
Best Sign:
“Moya will destroy-ya.”
And the runner-up has to be our slapped together sign that read, “Go Polish Boys!”, made from medical tape and a plastic tablecloth. Not only was it the first sign we’ve ever made, but we gave up a very precious few hours of sleep to make it, just so Mariusz and Marcin would know someone was rooting for them against the Bryans. (And, we had our photo taken with them, holding it!)
Best Spectator(s):
Nenad Zimonjic and Janko Tipsarevic. Both showed up at the final to support their boy Nole. Rather than sit in player’s box by the tunnel, they circled around with Nole’s coach and trainer to sit in the opposite corner. That meant walking past our seats. There was a hilarious moment when my friend said, “Hey, here comes a guy who looks like Janko.” I turned to look, and replied, “Oh, and there’s a guy who looks like Nenad.” Then, of course, we realized that we were both right. And damn did they look good.
The runner-up is Nico Lapentti. After his 3rd round victory over Fernando Verdasco, he made an appearance at Rafael Nadal’s match against Tommy Haas, sitting alone in the press row for several games, then chatting with Uncle Toni for a little while before leaving. He looked good, too, and radiantly happy.
Stupidest Things Overheard:
Before the Bryans / Fyrstenberg and Matkowski 3rd round match, we overheard this exchange between the people sitting behind us…
“Who’s playing next?”
“Um…the Burns, I think.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know…they’re supposed to be pretty good.”
(After the Bryans and the Polish boys have taken the court.)
“Are the Burns’ brothers?”
“I think so.”
“They look a lot alike. They could almost be twins.”
And later, AFTER we’ve hung out our giant “Go Polish Boys!” sign right in front of them, the conversation continued…
“Who are these other guys?”
“I don’t know. I think they’re French.”
“Oh, yeah. Their names don’t sound French, though.”
“You’re right, they don’t.”
Most Likely To Wear A Watch:
Tommy Robredo. Because he wears a watch. All the time. Everywhere.
Least Likely to Wear Underwear:
Janko Tipsarevic, who was seen at practice with sagging shorts and no underwear in sight…twice. On second Sunday, while practicing with Tommy Robredo, we saw Tommy’s coach ask him something, and Janko pulled out the front of his shorts, looked down, then just shrugged.
Last Practice:
Tommy Robredo and Janko Tipsarevic, on semifinal Saturday, on court #4. We actually heard Tommy’s coach setting this up with Janko the day before, but it was still a delight to find them there. They didn’t work very hard, no drills or practice sets, but instead played a bunch of games. The best was a serving competition for which they set up a bunch of bottles on the opposite court and took turns trying to knock them over. It seemed that a bonus of knocking a bottle over was getting to hit balls at the other player when he went to retrieve it, but they only did this a couple times. Once, after Janko had scored, we heard him saying to Tommy, “You go. I wait until you come back.” In the end, Janko won, something like 7 to 2. We did not see if Tommy’s coach bought him ice cream after. (See also, “Best Player’s Quotes”.)
Most Spectacular Slip:
During their semifinal match against Bhupathi and Knowles, one of the Bryans was chasing after a sharply angled volley when he skidded into one of the coolers positioned near their chairs. He went down, and the cooler came with him, soaking him from the waist down. Ice, water, and Powerade went everywhere, but the ball kids and volunteers were very quick to swoop in and start cleaning up the mess while the Bryans moved their bags out of the way. In the end, they just shoved the whole thing into a pile and covered it with towels, and play continued. They went on to win the match, darn it.
Best Chair Umpire:
Muhamed…something, from Sweden. He was freakin’ hilarious this year.
We Cheered The Loudest For:
Our Polish boys, Mariusz Fyrstenberg and Marcin Matkowski, during their quarterfinal match against the Bryan brothers. Mostly, we were just trying to balance out the persistent annoyance of the “Bryan Bunch”. They made it interesting and fun, but did not win.
We booed:
Etienne de Villiers. Understand, we don’t boo people. It’s rude and pointless. But I had too.
Most Valuable Player:
Nico, Nico, Nico. After years of only getting to see him in the qualifiers or at practice, Nico Lapentti returned to the main draw with a vengeance. We did not miss a single one of his matches, and probably saw most of his practices as well. He entertained up with his bobbing, his chocolaty goodness, and his choice of practice partners. He was beautiful, charming, and absolutely ferocious on the court. We went into this year wondering if we’d ever get to see him winning, and if we never do again, at least he went out with a bang.
Most Valuable Country:
Serbia. This is the first year that the award has gone to a country other than Spain or France. But the Frenchmen split early this year, and the Spanish…well, we love them, but the special moments we got from the Serbian boys easily outweighed them. Highlights included Nole’s hilarious reaction the photo my friend asked him to sign, Nenad’s charm when my friend nearly fell over and had to grab him to catch herself, and Janko’s persistent lack of underwear. To seal their place, all three of them showed up at the final, Nole playing Murray, and Nenad and Janko sitting in the stands watching.
Best Player Quotes:
Tommy Haas, during a practice with Roger, after hitting a forehand that went out - “Change direction, you son of a…gun!”
Marin Cilic, to his tiny, smiley coach, during practice - “You are like a keed.”
Marin’s Coach, grinning - “Well, I get excited!”
Gael Monfils, 6’4”, seeing Ivo Karlovic, 6’10”, coming off the practice court - “How are you doing, big guy?”
Arnaud Clement, to the utterly silent crowd at his first round match - “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Mariusz Fyrstenberg, laughing, to Janko Tipsarevic after Janko accidentally hit a ball onto their court during practice - “Hey! Play on your own court!”
Janko, not laughing - (gives Mariusz the finger)
Tommy Robredo’s coach, repeatedly bribing Janko Tipsarevic into continuing to practice with Tommy on the second Saturday - “Ice cream. Three scoops.”
Randomness:
Carlos is an optical illusion. On television and from a distance, he looks like a normal, albeit stunningly handsome, man. First, he is enormous. Second, he moves very slowly when he’s not running around. Lastly, while it is easy to say that Carlos is lovely because of the combination of his flaws, sometimes in person the flaws seem, well, like flaws. Then the light catches him just right, or he smiles, or he hits a forehand, and, pow, there’s the beautiful again.
Feli is just stunning. Literally stunning. I can never quite believe it.
There were a lot more no-shows than previous years. Most missed were Sebastien, Max, Lleyton, and Almagro among the players, and Remi and Bruno among the coaches.
Every time we watched Janko practice, someone asked him if he was going to play golf.
The people in Ohio call Nole “Novak”. Now, I know it’s his name, but no one calls him that. He doesn’t even call himself that. And yet, all we heard during matches was “Novak!” I counted three “Nole!” cries during the final, total.
Tommy (Haas) hops.
Andy wags.
Rafa wriggles.
Nico bobs.
And now we’re sad.