My first experience of the former Millennium Dome, the now O2 Arena played host all last week to the ATP World Tour Finals, the end of year tennis Championships which sees the top 8 men in the singles rankings and the top 8 mens’ doubles pairings gathering to do battle for the final points of the year. Each session featured one singles and one doubles match, and I would be attending both sessions of Tuesday’s action. We had elected to go for the cheap seats for the early session, and I now see why the seats in the upper tier of the O2 have been described as the ‘nosebleed seats’ – I can honestly say that never before have I experienced such a vertiginous seating experience; I was already feeling nauseous as we ascended the numerous escalators to the high point of the Dome, and this was before climbing the equivalent of 3 or 4 flights of stairs to finally reach our seats in the gods. Nevertheless, it gave an almost bird’s eye view of the action. The place is seriously impressive, and the build-up to the matches lent a real air of excitement.
View of the O2 Arena from the 'nosebleed' seats. Nice.First up were 4th ranked doubles pairing Lukas Dlouhy and Leander Paes against the wildcard entrants and Wimbledon champions, singles specialist Jurgen Melzer and his partner, the German Phillip Petzschner. It started out slowly but picked up tempo, some blistering power from the Austro-German combo battling against the doubles specialists from the Czech Republic and India. Power and precision eventually won out though, the double-fault and error-strewn performance of Dlouhy/Paes being exposed and punished, despite some flashes of brilliance, particularly from Leander Paes.
The feature match of the afternoon saw the mighty Roger Federer take on our very own Andy Murray (that’s the first and last time I’ll ever claim ownership of Murray! *Shudder*). I was surprised that the support for the two was pretty equal, unlike at Wimbledon where Murray-mania totally takes over and people lose their heads in an annual show of unwarranted patriotism. I would venture to suggest it’s because the British media don’t give a crap about the year-end championships and as a result, no-one has really had a chance to get their panties in a bunch over it. Either that or they’ve all realised what a dour old pain in the arse Murray is. It’s the first and last time I’ll ever shout ‘come on Roger’ that’s for sure. And Roger did indeed come on. It has to be said, that whether or not you are a fan of the man, seeing that whipping forehand in person is really something. It's a force to be reckoned with. And he proceeded to paste Murray all over the court with it. The Scot didn’t really turn up, I’m not sure where he was, perhaps he lost his mojo when he had about 8 inches of excess curls lopped from his strangely shaped noggin, but whatever was going on, he never really got going and Federer cruised to a straight sets victory, 6-4 6-2. Good work from the Swiss who seemed similarly surprised when asked in his post-match interview about Murray’s lack of game. Perhaps he was put off by the sight of footballing legend Maradona, who was in attendance, alarmed by the prospect of him plucking the ball from mid-air in an ‘innocent’ mid-rally incident to give Federer another break of serve. Or perhaps he just had another attack of indifference, an affliction which seems to strike Murray on occasion. Who can say.
Murray v Federer. Spot the ball! Oh, it's in Diego's hand.
We descended back into the lower troposphere for the evening session which was nice, and a cider or three helped me to recover from the altitude sickness. Had a wander around the perimeter of the arena and caught a certain Rafael Nadal on the practice courts, understandably attracting a large crowd despite looking as though he had been happier in his life. Not sure what was bothering him, but Uncle Toni was on hand to advise. My first time seeing my favourite player in the flesh, it was a thrill just to see him hitting, and I thought he looked fantastic; skinnier than I had expected – he’s not carrying an ounce of excess weight OR muscle – honed to perfection – he’s a lean, mean ball-hitting machine! Wide-eyed and fawning, me? Never.
Rafael Nadal: Wearing colours that most human beings can't look at directly since 2002.
The first match of the evening session featured the number one ranked doubles team of the year, the USA’s Bryan Brothers, against the Polish pairing of Fyrstenberg and Matkowski. It was expected to be routine for the Americans; they have been the mens’ doubles equivalent of Chelsea this year, winning everything in sight and schooling their competitors on a weekly basis. Quite why they are so good can really only be attributed to one thing (well apart from their superior skill, fitness, training and those minor details!). It’s all about the twin factor. You know, that thing where twins can feel each other’s pain, and know instinctively when the other one’s in danger. And of course, which way they’re going to serve. Nope, apparently not that last one. One of the twins (please don’t ask me which one, I can barely tell when I’m looking at a picture of them close-up, let alone the backs of their heads from a distance) actually managed to serve the ball directly into the back of his brother’s head. I kid you not. It was hilarious and touching in equal part, as the culprit twin ran over to the victim twin to check he was okay, and they had a little embrace. Aw. Also, I almost forgot to mention, that they actually went to the toilet together. Now THAT is brotherly love. Possibly gone a little too far.
The whole serving-into-the-head incident must have really thrown them off their game though as lanky pole and chubby pole (sorry, but it's easier to type than their actual names) took the second set to take the match to a tie-break, which they dominated and did the unthinkable – they beat the Bryan Brothers. Good work Pole-type dudes. Better luck next time Bryan 1 & 2. Trying not to knock each other out would be a good start.
Hey Mike/Bob! (delete as appropriate). Watch your head - Mike/Bob (delete as appropriate) is serving!
The evening session concluded with the Swedish world number 5 Robin Soderling taking on clay-court specialist David Ferrer from Spain. It was an exciting and tense match, Ferrer the pint-sized powerhouse not making things easy for Soderling, despite the blistering pace of his serve and his hard-hitting forehand. Ferrer had the majority of the crowd, who were fairly subdued despite the excellent quality of the tennis on offer, and the presence of one John Cleese, the back of who’s head I could see just a few metres in front of me (I really had to bite my tongue not to shout 'Basiiiil!' in one of the quiet moments - thankfully I managed to restrain myself). He’s an unerring work-horse (Ferrer that is, although I'm sure John Cleese is quite conscientious too!), and what he lacks in stature he more than makes up for in sheer effort levels. He regularly leaves the ground when applying his racket to his driving forehand and in addition to this he also appears to be a thoroughly pleasant chap, humble and under-stated. Soderling had to fight hard to clinch the first set on the tie-break, before eventually overcoming Ferrer’s challenge in the second set, the Swede’s intensity and power overwhelming the Spaniard as he went on to claim a straight sets victory.
Verdict on the day as a whole: excellent. Very well-organised, impressive venue, some great competition, and a good selection of food and drink (shame about the prices though!). Next year I will be back, and I’ll be buying tickets for two days’ play to make sure I get to see everyone. And yes, that does mean Rafa. Right, back to hockey! This tennis malarkey is turning me into a southern softie again. Bye bye, old blog!
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