Spectral Observations

My last spring break as an undergraduate student couldn’t have been more exciting and memorable. My tennis family (mother, aunt) and I ventured to Indian Wells, CA to get up close and personal with the ATP and WTA’s finest. Oh, and yes, I say that knowing Serena and Venus reluctantly sat out yet again. 

We began our adventure the first Thursday of the tournament. Hoarding the practice courts, armed with my aunt’s new camera purchased from NASA, we began our quest for seeking out our favorite players. Like anyone else at the facility, we had high hopes for seeing our favorite players utilizing the fan friendly practice courts where you can literally see the sweat dripping off your favorite superstar. Personally, I hoped to catch Marat Safin and Roger the man himself Federer. I would eventually get both wishes, but in completely different ways. (to be explained…..) Some great shots were taken at these practice courts, and most of my memorable moments from the trip resided at the practice courts. Here’s a great shot of the eventual tournament champion, Rafael Nadal of Espana. Should you ever venture to this tournament, I highly recommend investing in a high quality camera and some decent sun screen.

Rafa Nadal warming up his serve

Before I dive a little deeper into my favorite stalker (or investigating, as I prefer to call it) stories, let’s talk about the things I was looking for when watching the pros serenade the courts. Most people would comment on how hard the pros hit the ball and the sound it makes coming off their strings. I remember my trip to the Pacific Life Open way back in 2003 (I think Lleyton Hewett was the #1 seed, and rode his T-Rex to the facility……..) and hearing the shotgun esque sounds of big hitters like Marat Safin strike the ball. I was so amazed at that time at how hard the pros could really crush the ball and keep it in. This time, however, was different. I wasn’t impressed with how hard, or how much spin the pros put on every single ball they hit. I wasn’t impressed with the booming, precise serves. The thing that stuck with me this year was movement. It is absolutely phenomenal how well the pros move on the court. I couldn’t keep track of how many split steps took place during points. It’s no wonder why we saw so many pros playing soccer on a nearby grass field to relax and reinforce simultaneously.

Del Potro kicking the good ol' soccer ball around to relax and keep his feet active

Everyone hears from their local pro “don’t forget your split step” when you’re at the net volleying. The split step is often the focal point of such lessons, being it’s damn near impossible to hit decent volleys without being as balanced as humanly possible. However, lost in translation, this seems to be the lone focus of the split step. Gone are the days of footwork drills from the baseline, requiring a split step between each shadow stroke. Why is this? Is it too basic that we have forgotten?  ”Basic” or not, sound footwork and a plethora of split steps helped Andy Murray scramble, and ultimately save a ridiculous amount of points in the matches of his that I watched. Going back to the basics and improving footwork has undoubtedly rejuvenated American slugger Andy Roddick’s career. Andy is exciting to watch again, and he doesn’t have to rely on hitting forehand winners to compete with the best players in the world anymore. Sure, his serve is always a helper, but let’s get honest here…….How does a guy go from getting consistently owned by a guy named Novak Djokovic to making him look silly as of late? Movement. Andy’s new focus on fitness and footwork doesn’t only allow him to get to balls he wasn’t previously able to get to, but allows him to better set up for offensive shots instead of defensive. It helps him dictate points and stay in control.

Back to more of a leisure focus of the trip, we did in fact catch the Safinator on a practice court (in this instance I am referring to Marat, not Dinara, who can now draw an equal comparison to a Terminator as well….) While i was shocked and ecstatic to be able to hear one of my favorite players of all time converse with his hitting partner, my mother and aunt were busy plotting how to best get closest to Marat when his practice court time was up. Though they guessed wrong on his exit plans, that didn’t stop them. What ensued next will forever stick with me….My middle aged mother trudging through the crowd of countless females to touch Marat Safin was priceless. The best part of this story is that she did in fact make contact with Marat, sweat and all. I couldn’t help but laugh and salute to a job well done. Stalking or investigating? You be the judge Either way the accomplished smile on my mother’s face was worth more than the $300 steak dinner that I’m about to discuss with you.

My aunt is no slouch when it comes to sharing her wealth. She works hard to play hard. I’m not sure a $300 dollar dinner for four is defined under playing hard, but for the sake of time and starting an entirely different blog topic, let’s all agree that it does! It was decided that on our last night at Indian Wells we would dine somewhere finer than Subway. Some lady sitting in front of us during one of the matches in the later afternoon eaves dropped (errr, I mean overheard) us discussing potential candidates for our special dinner. My aunt on her Iphone, me on my Blackberry, we began to utilize the phenomenon known as the internet for our search. Luckily for us, the previously mentioned over curious woman interjected with suggesting we dine at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. Apparently the Food Network won’t be contacting me for commentary anytime soon, as I was the only one who hadn’t heard of this glorious meat house. Despite constant attempts for discourse, my aunt insisted, and so it was decided. Luckily, the steak house wasn’t too far from the courts, because we were all pretty hungry after watching Roger take longer than he should have to expel some guy I can’t even remember.  

Upon arrival to Ruth’s Chris, I had to decide which $50 plate of food I thought would best be worth the experience. I eventually decided on some form of stuffed chicken, which for the record, was quite glorious. I also enjoyed the best gin and tonic I’ve ever had in my life, and that was with the well gin. My mother ventured into a couple top shelf martinis, which always taste filthy to me, but were quite good to her. At any rate, none of this matters. The $300 tab doesn’t matter. The countless jokes and conversations between me, my mom, aunt, and step-dad doesn’t matter. Sitting adjacent to Roger Federer is what matters in this story, my good friends.

Now, I am only 24 years old and don’t claim to have been faced with an ungodly amount of stress or mental torture, but I swear on my life I formed at least 3 more gray hairs in the next five minutes. We began to discuss how to treat this situation. My aunt is basically in love with Roger. If she had any mace that evening, I am fairly certain Mirka would have got a squirt or two to the eye while my aunt confessed her undying love and support for the Swiss Genius. At any rate, the sports fan inside of me took over. I regret to inform all of you I tried my best to explain why we should let him be, and at most, wish him the best of luck on our way out. Fortunately or unfortunately (I still have nightmares about this 5 minutes), that is the route we took. Why didn’t I ask him for a fast picture or signature? Why didn’t we buy him a drink? Why didn’t we ask our waiter to check if it was ok to say, “hello”? These questions haunt me to this very day. My favorite tennis player of all time, my aunt’s perennial idol, and undeniably the greatest to ever play the game sat right next to me and I couldn’t muster the courage to ask for a simple photograph. I tried to put myself in Roger’s shoes. He just won a long match and was trying to enjoy dinner with his unborn child’s mother and immediate family. Did he really want to deal with what he had to all day long at Indian Wells? Would one more inquiry kill him?  We said, “good luck, Roger!!” on our way out, and he acknowledged us with a forced smile and a nod. At first this saddened me, but I’m fairly certain he just wanted to keep his presence in the place low key. I really don’t think anyone else in the restaurant knew he was there. Hell, it took us the better part of an hour to realize he was sitting at the table next to us. He was well hidden at his table of ten or so. At any rate, I’ll never know whether or not he would have humored us for a quick picture.

The only bad thing about this vacation was knowing it was time to leave. To help cope, we began strategizing and discussing how we would do it the next year. Staying a few extra days was definitely at the top of the agenda, and closely behind was upgrading our seats in the stadium court. Though we got some terrific shots from the upper section, it would be nice to sit a bit closer. So the countdown for BNP Paribas Open 2010 begins……….As soon as the schedule of play is released, let me tell you who’s reserving a table at Ruth’s Chris about 40 mintues after Federer’s first round match