Moya Downs Rios To Give Crowd Quick Fix

The Age

Wednesday January 17, 2001

By PETER HANLON

Day two, and the female tennis fan gets a little of her own back for all that Kournikova nonsense. The world spins on an evermore politically correct axis, but while there's still room for Tupperware parties and Melrose Place nights, Carlos Moya v Marcelo Rios will always be billed as ``one for the ladies".

There were plenty of ooohs and aaahs flying around telephone court yesterday, a couple of them even relating to the tennis. The female quota of the crowd stared at the players, the men stared at the women, and Moya just kept his eye on the ball.

For courtside viewers, his 6-3, 6-3, 6-2 win in less than two hours was sweet, but all too short. Rios probably wishes it went on a little longer, too.

Other than Latin blood, short surnames and large fan clubs, the Spaniard and the Chilean have much in common. Both are former world No.1s now hovering well below their station (Moya finished 2000 at 41, Rios 35). Both recently suffered injuries - back for Moya, groin for Rios - that have been known to afflict people who overdo it in a variety of recreational activities, including tennis.

And both are former Australian Open finalists, Moya losing to Pete Sampras in 1997, Rios to a skinny, weird-looking bloke named Petr Korda a year later. Moya managed eight games in his final, Rios six.

Rios defeated Moya en route to his only title last year, in Croatia. Moya beat Rios on the way to his only grand slam, the 1998 French Open. They have met once a year for the past five (Rios now leads 3-2), and could play chess outdoors at the Werribee sewerage treatment plant and still pull a crowd.

Rios played soccer until he was 11, and might regret not sticking with a sport that at least offers some opportunity to physically assault your opponent. His tennis shirts have shorter sleeves than the norm, and he still rolls them up to play.

Surprisingly, given the scoreline, it was Moya who had more of the Ricky Pontings about him yesterday. Several times he questioned calls, engaging in long conversations with line judges or the chair umpire. Had he taken time to note that most of the officials were men, he might have saved his breath.

It hardly mattered as Moya reeled off twice as many winners as his opponent, and twice as many games. Feeling fit for the first time in ages, he spoke of his hopes to be even more successful than ``in my first career". It was, Moya reckoned, two years since he played an entire match at 100percent. He took particular pride in yesterday's win.

Moya said Rios was always dangerous, a player ``with two forehands". Rios has never been accused of having two faces, just the one famously sour mug. Yesterday, in another shock twist, he was a sea of calm in defeat.

``Maybe I'm not mentally prepared yet to play good," said Rios, who married his long-time teenage girlfriend on Boxing Day, which was also his 25th birthday.

``I'm always trying to work harder ... maybe I'm just tired. I'm not winning matches the way I used to."

His next date is a tournament in Santiago, where he hopes to find form among the comforts of home.

Moya, too, spoke of his birthplace, offering that Christopher Skase was sure to be ``having a lot of fun in Majorca with all the money he got from here".

His fans will remember little of the match, but much of the end change that followed the second set, when Moya's shirt change prompted so many whistles it sounded like the cyclops machine had blown a fuse.

That was the end of the flesh-fest, the Spaniard winning the third set so comfortably his baggy threads hardly needed washing.

The job done, he raised his arms and hit a ball high into the air. It floated up through the retracted roof and down into the crowd, where a man fluffed the catch. Fittingly, it spilled to a woman.

© 2001 The Age

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