ROME — You know you’re at a pro tennis tournament in Italy when the number of sneakers worn by the fans are outnumbered by the number of heels — and that’s just the men.
Welcome to tennis, Italian style. You’ve had “Breakfast at Wimbledon.” You’ve seen the red clay of Paris. You’ve heard the fans at the U.S. Open drown out planes flying from LaGuardia. But attend the Italian Open and you’ll get new insight into sport reflecting national culture.
Or have you never watched tennis while drinking espresso?
Yes, in the Italian Open’s media center Wednesday, I operated an espresso machine where perfectly measured shots came from brightly colored tubs displayed in a frame like a Caravaggio painting.
Fans in various levels of larcenously priced sunglasses walked the grounds nursing miniature cups of gelato. Italians with curious tans on the first warm day of spring played paddle ball on sandy courts.
But to truly get the full effect of the Italian Open, one must first walk across the Tiber River to Foro Italico. Newly renovated, the glistening white tennis stadium is easy to find. Just go to the Mussolini obelisk and take a left. Built in 1935, in the middle of Il Duce’s reign, Foro Italico is right next to the Mussolini-inspired swimming complex, which is right next to the Olympic Stadium.
Picture Invesco Field at Mile High and the Pepsi Center with fascist architecture and you have Rome’s sports grounds.
At center court, I watched Rafael Nadal make mincemeat of Germany’s Philipp Kohlschreiber 6-1, 6-3. You can’t appreciate Nadal’s athleticism on TV. Live, he sprints to center court for the opening coin flip and bounces up and down, his barrel chest making him look like a middleweight boxer. He then races to the baseline for the opening point, zigzagging all the way.
His clothes are as coordinated as his game. Wednesday he wore a turquoise shirt, turquoise-striped shoes and shorts, a yellow-ringed racquet, a yellow sweatband and a bright yellow bandana. He looked like a cross between a UCLA free safety and a Venetian gondolier.
Denver hasn’t had pro tour tennis since the Denver Open ended after 1982, and that was played indoors. No tennis is more entertaining than on clay. Rallies are longer, the upsets many, the strategies more varied.
Afterward, we waited two hours for Nadal to stretch and get a massage before he patiently answered dumb questions — “Who do you want to face in the final?” — in the news conference. I followed him out, where I lost him in a sea of screaming Italian teenage girls — all holding beach ball-size tennis balls and pens. Yes, just another day in Italy.
John Henderson: 303-954-1299 or jhenderson@denverpost.com
