As soon as the first balls flew over the net at the French Open in Paris this week, a debate about tennis etiquette began. This time, it wasn’t about white socks, headband logos or the decibels of groaning when professionals hit a forehand. Instead, the question was what the audience on the sidelines was allowed to do. The discussion gained so much momentum that the tournament director, Amélie Mauresmo, promptly imposed a ban on alcohol in the stands. This order was not initially in writing. But as is often the case with such spontaneous decisions, the order, she said, came into effect immediately.
It all started with a piece of chewing gum. On Tuesday, Belgian David Goffin was booed by spectators supporting his opponent, Frenchman Giovanni Mpetshi-Perricard, during an evening five-set match. This is nothing unusual, even at a felt ball game at the Bois de Boulogne in the upscale 16th arrondissement of Paris: French sports fans are often passionate about their sport. However, Goffin, 33, told reporters after his first-round victory that someone had spat at him with a piece of chewing gum. He spoke of “absolute disrespect” and painted a picture of a looming moral decline: “It will be like football. Soon there will be smoke bombs, hooligans and fights in the stands,” he warned. Some spectators only come to cause chaos.
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This gloomy forecast on the sidelines of a Belgian-French duel could have been left at that. Then, the following day, Iga Swiatek took the floor. The rather introverted Polish world number one, averse to any kind of propaganda, used the stage of the 15,000-seat Centre Court to address the crowd on the court after her second-round victory against the Japanese Naomi Osaka. She was sorry that they had to address the issue, she said. She had great respect for the audience, but asked them to refrain from shouting during the rallies so as not to disturb their concentration phase: “We fight our whole lives to constantly improve, and it is hard to have to accept something like that.”
The word of the four-time Paris winner clearly carried weight. The next morning, tournament director Mauresmo, 44, a former Wimbledon champion, called the press together to announce measures against insults, provocations and general “comportements déplacés”: Security personnel had been instructed to intervene immediately in the event of any kind of projectile being thrown. She had personally encouraged the chair umpires to be strict. And alcohol consumption was now taboo in all stands at Roland Garros. “I want the enthusiasm for tennis and the game to be maintained,” explained Mauresmo, while admitting that the gum-spitting man had not yet been caught.
Djokovic also feels disturbed by heckling
Now, French tennis is a long way from the idea of hordes of ultras waving beer cans from Court Simonne-Mathieu in the Botanical Gardens to the lounge chairs on the Place des Mousquetaires. Most courts are civilized. Even if the Parisians, unlike the Brits at the posh All England Club, do not have a cult of signs saying “Quiet please!” On the other hand, it should be noted that last year even at Wimbledon there was a commotion about drunken tennis fans sitting close to the sidelines. At the Grand Slam tournament in New York, on the other hand, the noise-sensitive ears of tennis professionals have not been taken into account for years. And the Australian Open even opened a party court in January to increase its appeal to a solvent, party-loving audience. The fact that cultural and social change does not stop at the edge of the net is not a completely new issue.
The fabulous Billie Jean King, co-founder of the women’s tour, once described tennis as “the perfect mix of brutal action taking place in an atmosphere of silence.” Novak Djokovic, 37, the 24-time Grand Slam winner, would probably only half-heartedly agree. On Thursday, during his smooth second-round victory over Spaniard Roberto Carballes Baena (6:4, 6:1, 6:2), he felt disturbed by the shout of a man in the front row while chasing a drop shot.
An exchange with the referee followed, but according to Djokovic, the referee did not see any external impairment in the incident. The relevant rule (“hindrance”) states that a point can be replayed if a player is prevented from hitting by “something beyond his control”. Angelique Kerber also complained about a disruptive call during her first-round defeat. But the sport’s legal system is, as always, made for the players and not for the behavior of the spectators. The organizers left the question of how strictly the French Open interprets the rule unanswered until Friday evening.
When a call changes the ball flight
In any case, Djokovic explained, it is difficult to say where support for one player ends and interference with the opponent begins: he has experienced both sides. His Russian colleague Daniil Medvedev, however, has drawn a fine line for himself. He does like to play the provocateur of the masses. On the other hand, says Medvedev, who studied mathematics and physics for a while, there are good reasons for the requirement of punctual silence in technical sports such as tennis and golf: “Every millimeter you change in a movement gives the ball a different direction. If someone shouts in your ear when you serve, you are making a double fault. It’s as simple as that.”
Because tennis players are professionals, Medvedev believes that they would adapt very quickly if tennis organizers around the world decided to make things more hectic. In Paris, things are not quite there yet. Here, too, the rule is: Quiet please!