If you're scoring at home, that's five straight three-setters and eight tiebreakers in 15 sets.

Onward....

The recap of the Bogota event in which you mentioned former doubles partners going up against each other led me to wonder why successful teams usually break up after a couple of years. The Woodies notwithstanding, it seems many good doubles teams (Leander Paes-Mahesh Bhupathi, to name one) get torn asunder. Is it the difficulty in coordinating schedules, or do they just get tired of seeing the other person's mug next to them every week?
--Craig Berry, Park Forest, Ill.

First, reader Oscar Sterling of L.A. called to our attention that Katarina Srebotnik and Tina Krizan are back together -- it seems as though their uncoupling was only temporary. Your question, though, is a good one. Sometimes there's a fight over money. Sometimes one player wants to work with Coach A and the other wants coach B. Sometimes the parent of one player is insufferably overbearing. Sometimes Player A wants to devote more time to singles. But -- and here's yet another way in which the tennis tours are like high school -- jilted exes still bump into each other all the time so it's easier for everyone when the parting is on amicable terms.

As for the notion of "getting sick of seeing the other person's mug every day," I think there's something to that. I remember chatting with Todd Woodbridge, who explained that one of the keys to his successful run with Mark Woodforde was that when the matches ended, they often went their own ways. Woodbridge's quote: "We were good friends but we were smart about it. There were times when we knew we needed to be apart. When you're under pressure, there are times when one cracks and the other says something he shouldn't or just doesn't play well. ... If there were tough times, we'd go our own ways for a while. At tournaments we would eat dinner together two or three nights a week but there were other times we'd say, 'I've had enough of you.' That was the beauty of it. Plus, our wives traveled with us, so we had that escape. We both liked the theater and fine dining and golf but there were times we'd say 'See you tomorrow at practice.'"

In answering a question in the Feb. 24 mailbag, you said "Is it really beyond us to appreciate -- and even support -- players who happen to come from outside the U.S.?" As a Canadian who gets virtually all of his televised tennis from U.S. networks, I agree wholeheartedly and would make another observation along similar lines. It drives me nuts that the networks seem to assume tennis fans will only stay tuned if a big-name American is onscreen. I can't count the number of times I've been forced to watch (or turn off) an early round match in which a Williams or Agassi or Sampras is thrashing some sacrificial lamb in a "contest" that is probably less exciting than watching you type the mailbag each week. Meanwhile we're getting updates from another court where two non-Americans, sometimes even a top seed, are locked in a life-and-death five-setter. Is it just because I'm not American that this drives me insane? Surely, the way to keep viewers tuned in is to show them the most competitive, entertaining match taking place, no matter the nationality of the participants.
--Adrian Ewins, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

If only you knew how riveting it is to watch me type the mailbag. I'm with you, but it's a numbers game. The networks are after ratings, which means skewing coverage to the casual fans and not to the hard-core contingent. Until that changes, one of the Williams sisters toe-tagging a qualifier will make it to air before the Fabrice Santoro-Hicham Arazi five-setter. Some of the blame, we should point out, goes to the tournament schedulers. The networks, understandably, want to broadcast matches played on the biggest courts. If the "life-and-death five-setter" is on court 31, it ain't making it to air.

The stance Serena took with regard to men and women playing against one another ("It's like Lennox Lewis against Laila Ali. I wouldn't stand a chance against Andre Agassi.") is interesting. I appreciate her honesty in this, especially knowing that most non-professional men who would love to see this matchup couldn't take two games off her in a set. No question here, just a commentary for you since no one around here is interested in my commentary.
--Michael R., Page, Ariz.

A few of you wrote in about Serena's remarks. I'm with you: good for her for diffusing this before it became a headline. It would have benefited neither the men nor the women if she had taken the bait. One of you asked whether it's really true that she wouldn't stand a chance against Agassi. She wouldn't. And so what? It doesn't diminish her achievements -- or women's tennis, more generically -- in any way.

Last year, I remember Jelena Dokic talking about cutting back on her schedule for this year. But it seems she keeps taking part in more and more events and getting kicked out before the quarterfinals. Do you think she will be able to regain the form that brought her to the Wimbledon semifinals in 2000?
--Nicholas, Singapore

OK, Nicholas, you're Jelena Dokic. You have a top-10 game -- maybe even a top-five game. You've finally cut the cord (for the time being anyway) with your notorious dad. So perhaps you're a bit insecure about how you'll fare this season. Then, in keeping with your asinine "policy," you pass on the Australian Open. While the rest of the field is in a groove, you start off cold. You lose early and often in your first four or five events. Compounding matters, you have a new coach -- Heinz Guenthardt -- and a) you need to pay him and b) you want to get some matches in to implement some of the strategy and small stroke adjustments you've been working on. You see where I'm going with this. Dokic is in a vicious cycle and, though it's only early March, needs more matches. So her plan to curtail her schedule is going by the wayside.

Can Dokic regain her form? The quick and easy answer is yes. She hits the felt off the ball and tends to fare pretty well at the three majors she deigns to play. But there are so many emotional variables at play here. And it's hard for the detached observer not to notice that her results nose-dived after her father ceased travelling with her.

What happened to Paul-Henri Mathieu? I haven't seen or heard from him since his Davis Cup match against Mikhail Youzhny. Also, speaking of Youzhny, I was very impressed with they way he clinched the Davis Cup for Russia. Do you think he has what it takes to win a slam? Or do you see his talent and heroics being mostly relegated to Davis Cup?
--Ryan Nickoli, Washington

Mathieu has a groin/abdominal injury that has prevented him from playing a match in 2003. Assuming he makes a full recovery, we're talking about future top-10 player. The same description would apply to Youzhny. Right now he's best known for his Davis Cup heroics. But here's a guy who's only 20 and has already been to the fourth round of three Slams.

What is your take on the credibility of ex-players as journalists? Pat Cash's recent comments that he doesn't consider Andre Agassi an all-time great because he can't volley is what brings this question to mind. While Cash was a great classic volleyer himself, he didn't change the face of volleying as Agassi did, by inspiring a generation to use the full-swinging topspin volley. Also, while Cash has creditability as a former Wimbledon champion, he loses creditability when criticizing an eight-time slam winner like Andre. In this case, a never-picked-up-a-racket journalist might get less flack for criticizing Agassi than Cash would.
--Allen Chan, Newark, Calif.

First, anyone who wins all four Slams is an all-time great. I don't care if the only time he crosses the service line is to shake hands after the match.

As for ex-jocks, some make a smooth transition from competing to commentating and acquit themselves well as journalists. (See Mary Carillo.) Others -- how to put this? -- find the transition more difficult (Have any of you guys caught Tim Hardaway on on ESPN's NBA studio show?). Cash's remark was inane. But wasn't this the same guy who sagely likened Davenport to a shot-putter a few years ago?

Did you catch John McEnroe filling in for David Letterman last Thursday? I thought he did an OK job, except for the monologue and the constant shots at France's relationship with Iraq. Does Mac have any plans to get back into the TV business?
--David Martin, Washington

I thought he was pretty good, better than Bruce Willis the night before. Even if the studio execs would let McEnroe back in the arena after the affront to coaxial cable that was The Chair, why would anyone ever think that someone as inhibited, unopinionated and averse to self-promotion as Mac would be pondering a return to the TV business?

...

Last week we raised that vexing question: "What should we do about (to?) the schmoes who insist on leaving their cell phones on during matches?" As usual, your responses were both abundant and excellent.

Some suggestions came up repeatedly: 1) Put your phone on vibrate. 2) Guards should confiscate your phone. 3) Eject the offending party. 4) Stadia should have a "cell jammer" that cancels all signals. I resent the last one. The cost of the cell jammer would invariably be passed onto the consumer. Why should 99 percent of the fans have to subsidize technology because of the one inconsiderate dunderhead? (In all honesty, I don't have such strong feelings; it was just an excuse to use the underrated word "dunderhead.")

Anyway, here are the top suggestions (and anecdotes) If I chose your entry, you know the drill.....

Violators should be made to wear one of those giant tennis balls on their head while the players whack at them.
-- Rich Neville, Washington

Similar to your public mocking suggestion, I would recommend that the offending party/cell phone user be searched out in the stands and identified i.e.: 'Would Joe Smith from row 5, seat 6, please turn off his cell phone.' That ought to shame the person from ever doing this again and would also deter would-be chatters. Now for finding the person in the crowd? Heck, if they can create "Spot-shot," finding some numbskull should be easy.
-- Sue, Toronto

When a cell phone goes off, have someone ready to interview the cell-phone offender on national/international TV inquiring about why they are so selfish and think they are better than everyone else.
--Clifton LaSalle, Hull, Mass.

The Three Rings of Cell Phone Punishment Hell: THIRD loudest ring: You stand in the service box and Andy Roddick fires serves at you until you go down or he injures himself, whichever comes first. SECOND loudest: Rather than play an exhibition with Boris Becker on the final Saturday of the U.S. Open, you will sit in the umpire chair at Ashe Stadium before a full house while John McEnroe screams at you, calls you names, and eventually topples your chair and beats you senseless. The LOUDEST: Since you are committing a noise violation, you will be punished with noise. A chip that causes tennis' most annoying noises (Serena's grunts, Lleyton's "c'mons," Jorge Dias' overrules) will be implanted in your brain and will ring in your ears at the most crucial and meaningful moments in YOUR life.
--Andrew Friedman, New York

1. Make cell phone violators stand just inside the baseline with no racket (i.e. shield) and have the players serve bombs at said culprit for five minutes. 2. Make them massage the players' shoulders during changeovers for the rest of the match. 3. Make them serve as the net-cord judge and keep their tongues (rather than their fingers) on top of the net cord on all serves. 4. Make them serve as ball boys or ball girls for the remainder of the match in bare feet.
--David Goode, Washington

Boring solution: 1. The Offender must be escorted off the premises. Slightly more interesting solutions: 2. The Offender must coach Anna Kournikova to her first title win. 3. The Offender must figure out and provide a detailed report on what goes on inside Marat Safin's or Goran Ivanisevic's head. 4. The Offender must come up with a way for Venus Williams to defeat Serena, or at least provide us with a quality match between the sisters. 5. The Offender must sit beside Damir Dokic or Richard Williams during an entire match.
--Nancy Ng, Montreal

At the Hong Kong 7's Rugby tournament -- one of the world's greatest spectator sporting events, and I'm no rugby fan -- 20,000 British, American and other non-Asian expatriates drunkenly sing "Who's the wanker, who's the wanker, who's the wanker with the phone?" at the offending party, while everyone in his section throws beer at the person. Believe me, after seeing that, you turn your cell phone off.
--Mitch, New York

Long-lost siblings is taking the week off. Mea culpa. However, I won't leave you empty handed. This story was passed on courtesy of Noah Baerman of Middletown, Conn. Trust me, it's worth a read. Have a great week, everyone.

Like him or not, you have to give a positive nod to Wynton Marsalis for handling this intrusion. These paragraphs are borrowed from an article in the current Atlantic Monthly. The site of the gig is the Village Vanguard; the group is a quartet in which Marsalis was a sideman; the author is David Hajdu:

"The fourth song was a solo showcase for the trumpeter, who, I could now see, was indeed Marsalis, but who no more sounded than looked like what I expected. He played a ballad, I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance With You, unaccompanied. Written by Victor Young, a film-score composer, for a 1930's romance, the piece can bring out the sadness in any scene, and Marsalis appeared deeply attuned to its melancholy. He performed the song in murmurs and sighs, at points nearly talking the words in notes. It was a wrenching act of creative expression. When he reached the climax, Marsalis played the final phrase, the title statement, in declarative tones, allowing each successive note to linger in the air a bit longer. 'I don't stand ... a ghost... of ... a ... chance ...' The room was silent until, at the most dramatic point, someone's cell phone went off, blaring a rapid singsong melody in electronic bleeps. People started giggling and picking up their drinks. The moment the whole performance unraveled.

"Marsalis paused for a beat, motionless, and his eyebrows arched. I scrawled on a sheet of notepaper, 'MAGIC, RUINED.' The cell-phone offender scooted into the hall as the chatter in the room grew louder. Still frozen at the microphone, Marsalis replayed the silly cell-phone melody note for note. Then he repeated it, and began improvising variations on the tune. The audience slowly came back to him. In a few minutes he resolved the improvisation which had changed keys once or twice and throttled down to a ballad tempo and ended up exactly where he had left off: 'with ... you ...' The ovation was tremendous."

Sports Illustrated senior writer Jon Wertheim covers tennis for the magazine and is a regular contributor to SI.com. Click here to send him a question or comment.

 

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