Survival of the fittest

Written by: Staff on 4th September 2010

Survival of the fittest

Saturday 7th April 2007: Greg Rusedski after retiring from tennis, National Exhibition Centre, Birmingham. Rusedski retired from tennis after there win. Picture Credit: Patrick McCann/Fotosports International |

And so the first week is almost over. We have survived. There have been times when it has been touch and go, but we have come through it. We deserve a pat on the back. We actually think we deserve a large gin and tonic and a lie down but we have learned to manage our expectations – this is the US Open, after all.

Of all the slams, the US Open is the most gruelling. The hours at the Australian Open may be longer and the on-court conditions may be more testing, but nothing compares to the 14 days and nights of humidity, noise, traffic and officialdom. That is not to mention the food (and we are using the term loosely), the technical glitches or the sheer insanity of the scheduling.

Admittedly, those of us who write about tennis have a job that many people would willingly give a vital organ to do, but, as journalists, we gripe for a living. It’s written into the job specs. But, even so, this slam is the toughest; it can crush the strongest of characters.

The other day, Greg Rusedski was spotted wandering forlornly around the media dining area. Now, Greg is one of life’s optimists and one of nature’s battlers. Throughout his career, he took on whatever life threw at him and he beat it, fair and square. His thumping serve was the best of its generation and, combined with a pathological need to get to the net, he reached the final here in 1997 and hit a career-high ranking of No.4 in the world. He was darned good, was our Greg.

But as he surveyed the tepid mush on offer in the press canteen, he looked distraught. Eventually, he cheered up. He had an idea: he would plump for a turkey sandwich. “They can’t mess that up!” he said cheerfully. Oh, Greg. They can. They will. You’ll learn.

Greg is also a friend of 10sballs.com and has promised us a sneak peek at life behind the scenes at the Open next week. But let’s not spoil the surprise. Stay tuned in the coming days and all will be revealed.

Actually, all may be revealed before that, and not necessarily in a good way.

Our hero is here this year as a commentator and pundit for Sky TV, his first trip to Flushing Meadows as part of the media. And life on our side of the fence is taking some getting used to.

The first challenge for the tall, lithe and still extremely fit Mr R was to find somewhere to have a shower. This sitting in front of TV cameras was all very well but once a player, always a player – Greg wanted to stretch his legs and have a hit for a while, but he needed to know where he could spruce up afterwards. That was when it all went horribly pear shaped.

When Greg was still playing, he was used to having the run of the US Open site; now that he only has a press pass, he is discovering that his access severely limited. His media credential allows him into the players’ lounge but not into the players’ restaurant (hence the sandwich) and it allows him into the media work areas but not into the locker rooms. This, he thought, was ridiculous.

Heading to the accreditation office, he asked, politely, where he might be able to shower after having a session on the practise courts. “No idea,” the official said. “Surely the former champions are allowed to shower after a work out,” Greg offered, after having seen John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors hitting on the practise courts. “They have to get ready for their TV appearances after they’ve worked out…” Alas, the official could not help.

At this point, your trusty 10sballs.com correspondent mentioned – unwisely – that there was a shower in the ladies’ lavs in the media room. Greg’s eyes lit up. He could go in there, lock the door and all would be well. Yes, it might be well for you, Greg, but given that the US Open prides itself on the number of accredited media in Flushing Meadows and yet provides one tiny bathroom for the ladies and – I’m guessing here, as I haven’t been into the gents – the same for the boys, it won’t be much good for the rest of us. If you think you will be allowed to lock us out of our miniscule comfort station, you are sorely mistaken. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do – and when a girl’s gotta do it.

Added to which, the ladies’ is always densely populated with the cleaning staff who, for some reason best known to themselves, take their breaks in there.

No matter, Greg was willing to risk it and go for broke. As yet, we have not seen him – nor any part of him – try, but we will keep you posted. Poor Greg, he will learn. Eventually. We will knock that optimism out of him by the end of the tournament.

Greg is not alone in finding life in the press bunker something of a struggle. M’learned colleague, Hugh MacDonald, of The Herald in Glasgow, was the talk of the press bunker on Friday.

Hugh – or Shug, as they call him in Glasgow (it’s a linguistic thing) – is here to write about Andy Murray. Actually, he does not just write about Andy, he provides wall-to-wall coverage on the life and times of A. Murray of Dunblane. Wur Shuggie (or, for non-Glaswegians, that would be our Hugh) writes thousands of words every day on Scotland’s finest and is always on the look out for a new angle or a decent quote.

So when the Muzza reached the third round and it became clear that he would play Stanislas Wawrinka next, Shug shot into Stan the Man’s press conference.

Stan speaks English, German, Polish and French and, in all languages, he answered questions eloquently and thoughtfully. And then Shug asked his question. In a Glaswegian accent. All he wanted to know was when it was that Stan had last practised with the Muzza but, then again, Shug is from Possil in Glasgow, an area of Scotland that had clearly not featured large in the multilingual Mr Wawrinka’s travels before. “An’ when d’yez last practise w’Andy then?” Shug asked, politely.

Stan looked stunned. “What?” he said, regarding his interrogator as you would an alien from a different planet.

At this point, Shug’s hugely supportive press colleagues fell about laughing. Shug, who is a lovely man and a lovely writer, blushed (“I had a reddy”, as he put it) and, slightly flustered, he slowly and carefully asked his question again. Eventually, he did get an answer but word of the encounter spread around the press pit like wildfire. Complete strangers came over to introduce themselves – “So, you’re the man Stan couldn’t understand…”. Poor Shug could be scarred for life but his reputation will live on forever at the US Open.

Topics: Australian Open, Canteen, Dining Area, Gin And Tonic, Greg Rusedski, Humidity, Journalists, Mush, Optimists, Pat On The Back, Sheer Insanity, Slam, Slams, Sneak Peek, Surprise, Survival Of The Fittest, Technical Glitches, Turkey Sandwich, Vital Organ, Whatever Life