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Japanese version

I didn't know it at the time, but this would be my third and last day at the French Open. And probably, in retrospect, the best.

But it certainly did NOT start off that way. I got to Roland Garros at about 9:10 AM, and already there was a line ending at about the same spot I was at a day earlier. This was Saturday, so I guess more people were free. However, the boxoffice did not open at 10 AM like it was supposed to. In the meantime, people kept cutting in line by jumping over the rails. Security was not stopping them, nor did they stop the ticket scalpers. Once people started getting into fistfights, they finally decided to act. One of the security guys stood at the front of the line, trying to push us back about 5cm, which was fruitless because he should have gone to the end. Trying to create a domino effect from the front of the line was clearly not going to work. During this whole mess, I was even considering hopping out of line and going straight back home. I saw the match schedule in someone's copy of L'Equipe and noted that Michael and Thomas Enqvist were scheduled to play. Even so, I still debated it. Should I be desperate and get a Court Centrale ticket? If I got an Annex one (access to every court except the THREE big ones), would I be interested in those matches?

Needless to say, I did not get in until 11:45 AM. I really had to go to the bathroom, but I decided to scope out the practice courts behind the Suzanne Lenglen court first. No one whom I recognized. So I went to the bathroom, rushed back, and saw a small crowd at the nearest court. Thomas Enqvist!! Hitting against Magnus Gustafsson, and talking in Swedish, no less. Now this was something to behold. I hadn't seen Thomas play in nearly three years, come to think of it. But I needed to keep my eyes peeled.

I stood around in the main pathway when a couple of figures literally brushed right past me. Michael and Carl, heading two courts away from Thomas! Momentarily I forgot who Thomas Enqvist was and followed the Gang, consisting of M & C, father Joe, and some Caucasian dude whom I didn't recognize.

I noticed a few different things about this practice from those I had seen at the past at non-Grand Slam events. Michael was not wearing a Reebok shirt, but a burgundy Geoff Moore & the Distance (a Christian band) 1997/8 tour shirt with blue Reebok shorts decorated by yellow and orange suns and stars.

Michael did some stretches and lunges at the net while Carl rubbed some lotion on Michael's arms, legs, back, and stomach. I don't think it was sunscreen, but I am not sure. Meanwhile, the Caucasian guy was unwrapping one of Michael's racquets. A French kid asked him if he needed the bag--labeled The Racquet Doctor--that was just thrown in the trash. Turns out he just wanted the bag to say it once covered Michael's racquet (which he ended up getting). Another eyeopener, the four of them (M & C, Joe, and the Caucasian) gathered in a circle near the net and said a short prayer before starting practice.

I didn't watch all of Michael's practice because I wanted some closeup pictures of Thomas, since I only had one from the 1995 Legg Mason. Thomas has aged a little bit, but still looks great. I never realized how hard he hits the ball off both sides, and with hardly any effort. But who was on the court between Thomas and Michael? Venus Williams and Justin Gimelstob, who were playing mixed doubles together this year. I basically flitted from court to court at this point. Michael and Carl appeared to just be doing drills. At one point, Joe even wielded a racquet to stop balls while Michael practiced his serves.

Michael decided to leave the court shortly after Thomas left his. One kid remarked to Carl that he was a very good player, and Carl said thank you. A man wanted Carl's autograph, but Carl said that he wasn't going to sign any. The man asked why, and Carl gave a similar answer, which is interesting because he definitely has signed stuff in the past. Michael signed some autographs, of course, and one guy looked at his with a puzzled expression. "JULIE loves you?" he wondered aloud. (Again, it's the handwriting!!)

After watching some other matches and practices, I decided to check up on the Michael-Clavet match. They were playing on Court Central which I did not have access to, but they were showing the match on a screen outside the stadium. Michael had won the first set 6-3, but lost the next two 6-7 2-6 and was trailing by a break in the fourth. I was planning to sit at the fountain and watch until the bitter end. A couple of kids approached me and asked if I wanted their Court Centrale tickets. I was already sick of scalpers ripping me off and shook my head. As they shrugged and walked away, I blurted out, "Combien de francs?" (How many francs?) and they said the tickets were free. What dumb luck!

However, my streak as a good luck charm ended--I was about to see Michael lose in-person for the first time ever. Though Michael was able to even the score, he was promptly broken back and never recovered. He saved a match point but lost the fourth set 4-6. Some British spectactors sitting near me noted his lack of mobility, I saw a few forehand errors but merely suspected that he was still recovering from his two injuries. Turns out that he was actually cramping. Still, he was extremely courteous in signing autographs before packing his bags, then waving to the French crowd (who had clearly supported and cheered for him over Clavet), before pausing to sign some more stuff. Definitely a very generous thing, considering his physical condition at the time.

It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that I was going to leave and that I had to visually drink everything in one last time. I mean, how many times will I able to say that I saw Michael Chang play on Center Court at the French Open?

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