Good morning Scott... or maybe I should say good night. :) The hour difference is horendous but it was worth to stay up at night and watch all this very special tennis.
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Late nights with a star named Baghdatis
Peter Schrager / FOXSports.com
Posted: 19 hours ago
When you are up at 3 a.m., some terrible things are bound to be on TV. The MTV "Made" episode with Josh, the heavyweight teen who wants to pursue a career in soccer; former stars of "CHIPS" selling timeshares; re-runs of the show "Mama's Family". If you're lucky, maybe you'll get a little Steve Sabol during your bout with insomnia.
Wait, what?
Scratch all that.
There's not only something to watch at 3 a.m. on Saturday night — but a reason to stay up, stay sober, and stay in for. While most Americans have been doing the responsible thing — sleeping, getting up for work, and being a functioning human being in society — I have spent the last two weeks up at ungodly hours, following the Australian Open. This year's tournament has not only completely rejuvenated my love for men's tennis, but has also caused some horrifying black shadows under my eyes. No regrets, though. I'm wearing these bags with pride. Sleepless nights with Chris Fowler and Brad Gilbert are what I'm all about these days.
Wait, what?
Wednesday night (Thursday morning?) posed the truest of tests. The David Nalbandian-Marcos Baghdatis men's semifinal match began at roughly 4:00 a.m. ET. I had fought off Mr. Sandman, toughed out a re-run of ESPN 2's "Quite Frankly," and completed not one — but two — late night 7-11 runs.
Three Slurpees, four beef jerkies, and thirteen pieces of Laffy Taffy later, I was still up and ticking when the clock hit 4. The sun was rising, the birds were chirping, and the "Saved By The Bell" re-runs were starting up on TBS. I had earned this. Finally, it was tennis time.
Luckily, my buddy Brown was grinding it out as well. Talking via the Instant Messenger, we traded barbs throughout the first two sets.
Nalbandian, the four seed, was cruising. He took the first set 6-3, and after a nice little comeback by Baghdatis, took the second set 7-5. Throughout the first two frames, Brown and I gave our play-by-play, exchanged commentary, and simultaneously lusted over Baghdatis's insanely hot girlfriend. At some point during the start of the third set, I sent him the following instant message:
"Is Nanny McPhee just Mary Poppins on acid?"
I thought it was a pretty funny comment. Not hilarious, but you know, a clever little quip at 5 a.m. And yet, I got nothing in return. No "haha", no pity-filled "lol". Nothing. Time passed. And as the minutes ticked by, Baghdatis slowly grabbed control of the match. His now signature fan section of the crowd began to get into their groove. The chants, every point, started to get going at a breakneck pace. Meanwhile, Brown's screenname turned grey on my "buddy list". He was officially "idle".
Was he alright? Had he fallen out of his chair with the most recent shot of Baghdatis's girlfriend? What if he was hurt?
I felt like Kate Winslett in Titanic. I was going to have to fight this one out alone. Just me, the grape taffy stuck in my teeth, and a wild and crazy bearded Cypriot named Marcos.
Baghdatis kept me up, alright. The guy is as charismatic as they come. His court presence, though not arrogant, is one of great confidence. His love for the game is as infectious as any other player's on the tour. With the exception of Rafael Nadal, no figure in men's tennis shows more enthusiasm on the court. The fist pumps, the crazy bounces before the serve, the unorthodox hand gestures — it's all part of the Baghdatis package. And it's all awesome.
Melbourne, Australia, though unbeknownst to me before the tournament, apparently has an enormous Greek population. On Thursday morning, Rod Laver Arena was packed with Australians of this Greek heritage, all dressed in blue and white t-shirts, going wild for their 20-year-old phenom. Who knew that a kid from Cyprus would have such a distinct home-court advantage while playing in a continent he didn't call his own? You could feel the fans' energy push Baghdatis through the match.
He rallied. The former world junior champion stole the third set. Then the fourth. And then, with the power of the crowd spurring him on, scored 17 of the last 21 points of the match, wrapping up a 3-6, 5-7, 6-3, 6-4, 6-4 victory. The Cypriot (I love that word) fell to his knees and pointed to his crowd. He had them in his hands. It was like Jaimie Foxx on an "Oprah" episode — the guy could do no wrong.
And then, just as he was blowing kisses to his legion of supporters, his family, and his off-the-charts girlfriend, ESPN switched out of programming. I looked at the clock. It was 6:30 a.m. on the east coast. The sun was up, cars were lining the streets outside my bedroom window, and the Slurpee I had cherished only hours before, had made the inevitable transformation from delicious ice to sticky water.
I checked the computer one more time. Brown's screenname was still idle. He must've fallen asleep.
Alas, I gutted it out alone. I sent him the update via Instant Message. He, like mostly all American sports fans, would read about the match the next morning. Sadly, no writer could ever do it justice.
Baghdatis is three sets away from destiny. He'll have the crowd on his side, an Australian Open title on the line, and his lady in the stands on Sunday morning. If you've ever wanted to get into (or back into) men's tennis, this is the match to watch.
Just make sure you are able to sleep late the next day. |
