Not Quite 30-Love

#AMinuteSilence, #LinzCrisis

#AMinuteSilence, #LinzCrisis

Ten a.m. and the sun was still climbing its ascent into the cloudless sky. Another perfect autumn day – but we were all inside, a zillion miles from perfection. Indoor stadiums, like casinos, give away nothing regarding the time of day. The echoes of thousands of feet climbing the wooden stadium seats rang throughout the building – on their way to an execution.

The punters had purchased tickets for a full day of tennis. Most of them would have heard of our media catastrophe via their ever-present smart phones, Good Morning Linz, and/or the car radio. A spell had been cast over our usual Monday morning matches. Yesterday was supposed to have been the preparation for the days of tennis ahead, that is, until I sent our world in an entirely new direction.

Great matches were planned for today. Aussie sensation Zoe Lemonjian was playing Swede Elke Bartens. Bartens is a top-twenty player and after Lemonjian’s third-round showing at the Aussie Open this year, she is our next great hope. Yesterday, I had been hoping to watch some of the match.

Between my trip to the locker room and now – less than ten minutes – Ulli Fischer had agreed to represent the WTA on court. From the look on her face, “agreed” might not be the correct word. All the staff had lined up alongside the court. We were all expected to stand by her while she read the statement – a show of solidarity.

The emcee announced Lemonjian and Bartens onto the court. The crowd clapped. Both girls walked with their heads bowed, briefly looking up to wave and acknowledge the applause. They put their racquet bags down at their respective benches courtside – and did not unpack them. Normally, at this point, the umpire would conduct a coin toss with the players and they would start to warm up. The umpire, instead of sitting high on her perch, was standing with the rest of the staff.

The emcee continued, he announced that the WTA’s number one seed Ulli Fischer would like to address the crowd. This breach of protocol caused the crowd to titter. Although they were whispering to one another, there were nearly 6,000 of them and their collective whisper reached a crescendo as Ulli walked to the centre of the court with her speech clutched in her dominant left hand.

Ulli was handed the microphone by the emcee. She held it too close to her mouth as she cleared her throat causing a piercing screech of feedback. All the WTA staff, myself included, walked to the side of the court to ensure visibility. Lemonjian and Bartens bowed their heads and stood next to their benches.

Ulli began. She read the statement exactly as written. She managed to look up occasionally, making eye contact with the crowd, who were transfixed. Probably seventy percent of them were filming the statement on their phones. Streaming live, perhaps?

Ulli’s terror added an aura of genuineness to the delivery of the carefully chosen words. She trembled as she forced out the words and this increased in all the right places, punctuating ‘tragic loss’, ‘safe’ and ‘lucky’. My eyes were blurred with tears before the end.

To ensure the crowd understood every word, German subtitles appeared on the giant suspended screens normally reserved for showing tennis replays.

The Austrian crowd stayed silent for the entire minute. A heritage of war and loss of life not removed from them. At the conclusion, the emcee managed to bring the crowd back to the tennis. The umpire and players conducted a solemn coin toss and began their warm-up. It was time to get back to business.

**

As my WTA colleagues exited the court, most of their eyes were red. Ten children had been slaughtered less than twelve hours ago. Neither my social faux pas nor any arse covering should eclipse that.