Tennis...Anyone?

I like to think I grew up in the "golden age" of tennis.

Borg. Connors. McEnroe. Lendl. Becker. Which spawned the next era of Sampras and Agassi. Today isn't shabby either with Federer and Nadal, but neither of them are American.

The women's side still has strong US representation, and international sex appeal as well.

Tennis is still globally relavant, but it's not moving the meter much here in Dixie.

Tennis happens all over the world at all hours, but it's a different age now with the internet, ESPNEWS, etc. If I'm at the playground, I can keep up with scores on my phone. If I'm in the car, I get updates every 20 minutes on ESPN Radio.

I expect to pop in the house and see live action.

On Sunday morning, Rafael Nadal entered his 4th Round match against #23 Robin Soderling having never lost at Roland Garros (31-0). But as I learned he was on the ropes I raced home to check out the end.

It was the weekend so I went to NBC first - infomercial. So I went to ESPN2, the Grand Slam Network - Outdoor show. No live coverage for the biggest upset in the sport in years.

On Friday afternoon, Roger Federer was in a deadlock against #5 Juan Martin Del Potro. It was the Men's Semis, so I went to NBC first - Judge Judy. I went to ESPN2 - College Baseball Super Regionals. Great event, not what I was looking for.

No live TV for Federer's 5-set gut-check win to knock on the door for his first French title.

Twice this week, the live TV situation completely burned me - and is helping to push me away from a sport I used to love.

What Exactly Do You Do? (Redux)

There are two of "me" - there's the "professional me" (7 months a year) and the "domestic me" (5 months a year).

I am now in the dog days of the domestic me. Limo service for my kids to karate, T-Ball, speech, gymnastics, swimming, doctor & dentist appointments, etc. Creator of world-class pancakes, tacos, and any fish you can grill. Semi-avid runner and wine-taster. The Yankees are a daily fix. Basically, I'm driving my wife crazy.

Plenty of time to blog, but not too many experiences to post about - unless you count Sesame Street Live.

So I offer some perspective on the sports world when I have some, but usually that winds up being the kiss of death. My most recent post pointed out how the French Open no longer has any drama on the men's side because Rafael Nadal has never lost there. (Lo siento, hermano)

So I'll re-introduce the professional me, from one of Backtime's earliest editions.

February 3, 2009 - "What Exactly Do You Do?"

Art Garfunkel was once asked that. Paul Simon wrote the songs and played the guitar, while Garfunkel provided only half of the vocals. Garfunkel rambled thoughtfully about being a producer of the record (back when we had records), and how he had to manipulate all the subtle nuances to create the final package.

As a producer, I can relate. When you watch a sports broadcast on TV, I’m not the guy calling the game, cutting the cameras, or coordinating the graphics. So what exactly do I do?

I have one boss who likens the producer role to a conductor of an orchestra, bringing all the different components of the show into harmony.

If I were my own boss (which, technically, I am), I would say that being a producer is about weaving a tapestry of storytelling and using all the personnel and equipment at my disposal to create a seamless journey through synergy and association. And I would make damn sure I was wearing a suit and tie when I said it.

Look, the real fun part of a production only really happens around getting all your breaks in, and running all your promos and sales obligations. That’s when it’s time to get creative and use your instincts. To try and anticipate what happens next and hope that you haven’t only mapped it out in your own head, and properly communicated it to your crew.

Content. Visuals. Replays. Graphics. Music. Forecasting. Sometimes you do nothing but enjoy the sounds of silence. A lot goes into producing a live TV show. I used to joke with a colleague that “You have no idea what I do.” That makes two of us.

Can't Forget Paris

It never fails. This time of year, I turn on the TV in the morning and I see the red clay and I can only think of one thing (and it's not the Garth Brooks song).

I was one year out of college and bouncing around the country working on baseball, football, basketball, boxing, and tennis, trying to get my foot in the door of the TV business.

Then I had an opportunity to go to Paris and work for ESPN on the 1992 French Open. No flight, no hotel, just $175 a day for 3 weeks. For a 23 year-old single guy, I thought it would be a great experience.

It turns out that I wasn't as ugly an American as I thought. My burgeoning coffee addiction and pack-a-day cigarette habit fit right in. I enjoyed sitting at cafes and partying at discotheques. I loved staying at the flat of a friend-of-a-friend in Monmarte and riding the Metro to work each day.

When you got your change at the grocery store, the cashier actually said voila, and the moped rider on the opposite side of the street would actually stop for an attractive woman, whistle, and shout ooh la la!

Mind you, this was before the internet, cell phones, ESPN2, and before Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera changed history. I was wide-eyed and wasn't distracted.

That year, I was in the stands to see one of the great events as Monica Seles defeated Steffi Graf in the Women's Final 10-8 in the final set. Jim Courier was at the peak of his career, winning his second straight Men's title, quickly dismantling Petr Korda. Courier thanked the adoring crowd by accepting his trophy and addressing the Court Central faithful in French. A nice touch.

These days, the French Open isn't much of a mystery, at least on the men's side. I saw an article recently titled: French Open Preview - What's The Point?

That's because Rafael Nadal has never lost a single match at Roland Garros. He's won 4 straight titles, including 3 in a row over Roger Federer.

But mostly I remember my experience there for the work. I didn't know what I was going to do there, but somehow wound up in a great spot.

I sat in front of a computer that was spitting out real-time scores all over the grounds. I had a walkie-talkie with two channels - one for each camera crew I was directing to various locations on the outer courts. And it was mostly based on my instincts.

If there was a great match, upset brewing, American result on the line, or we just needed video on an up-and-comer, it was my job to send the crews to the right spot, then inform the producer when they were in position. He would determine whether to go live or roll it back as a taped highlight.

Pretty heady stuff for a guy who was essentially an extra to start. But after returning home and getting back into the grind, I now realize I didn't have the maturity or the people skills to handle my new-found success and responsibilities. My career changed direction, and it wasn't exactly my decision.

By the next year I was on the inside, but working my way up from the bottom.

I worked at HQ for 3 years, but decided to go free-lance and move to New York to improve my life if not my career. You can't fret about the life decisions you make when you're young and a little impulsive. Everything leads to where you are.

Captain James T. Kirk had the best quote, ironically from the worst Star Trek Movie - Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, when Dr. McCoy suggested that he give his life's pain over to an empathic cult leader and his emotional healing powers...

"I've made the wrong choices in my life. That I went left when I should've gone right? I know what my weaknesses are...You know that pain and guilt can't be taken away with the wave of a magic wand. They're things we carry with us
– If we lose them, we lose ourselves."

Experience dictates everything. And I have a lot more to remind me of my one spring in Paris than just a Roland Garros necktie.