Court 15 is at the very edge of Melbourne park. At this sprawling facility, you can't go any further than here to hit a tennis ball. Beyond it, lie rail tracks. So when a match is on, you often hear the distinct whistle of a train chugging by, at no great speed and in no great hurry. It is a forlorn, intimate setting. Fittingly, it is here that Leander Paes arrives to keep his head above water as a remarkable career nears its finish point.
"Are you here to cover Paes," an elderly gentleman taps me on the shoulder as I find a seat.
"Yes, sir"
"What colour shirt would you say he is wearing?"
"Maroon?", I venture.
"Nah, I'd say Fuchsia."
We chuckle.
Paes first played the men's doubles at the Australian Open in 1994. He has won the title once and been in three other finals here. They recognise him in Melbourne. This is primarily an older tennis crowd, appreciative of the nuance and skill of the doubles game. Paes has endeared himself to them over the years. He waves to the faces he places as he walks on to court. He is experimenting with facial hair these days and alongside him is an experimental partner in Brazilian Andre Sa.
A train passes by in the background. It's genteel whistle intertwining itself with the polite applause that sends off Paes and his fellow players into battle.
Over his storied career, Paes has essentially made thuggery into a fine art form. And alongside Sa, he unveils the bag of tricks early. A lob is dabbed over Treat Huey's hapless racquet early and the Indian swoops in. Huey is the shorter of the rival team and Paes is eager to exploit that to his advantage. Huey's partner Max Mirnyi is a beast. Burly and visibly demonic, he's won six men's doubles Slams. Last week in Auckland, Paes & Sa had in fact beaten Huey & Mirnyi in the first round. So this is a bit of a grudge match.
Sa will turn 40 this year. In his 20 years playing doubles Grand Slams, he has never been past a quarterfinal. He has his socks rolled up to his knees, much like a boy scout at summer camp. Sa, you can tell, is only too willing to concede captaincy of the team to his more pedigreed partner. He hears Paes wide-eyed on tactics, seeks his approval on playing a good shot and during changeovers, soaks in all the information he can.
The Indo-Brazilian combination sneak in a break in the fifth game on Mirnyi's serve. Paes is now poaching with the relish of old and serving smartly. He stands well behind the baseline and delivers cannily into the body or out wide to the receiver. He is unveiling a signature playing style. There's no backlift on the ground strokes, he changes pace on the backhand and bunts short balls in to move swiftly forward. Every time he makes an error, Paes chides himself with a mental replay of how the shot needed to be played. Wrists are flicked. Feet are commanded to dance to his tune.
The 10th seeds concede the first set and in the second, Paes & Sa, with a combined age of 83, show no signs of wilting. The Indian is invoking the mongrel within. His serve is threatened early but Paes is resolute. On clinching game point, he unleashes a throaty, "Come onnnnn" and makes eye contact with big Max. He's in it to win it.
4-5 in the second set and we have ticked well past the hour mark. It isn't as hot as it has been on other days at Melbourne Park but on court, the foursome are feeling a relentless sun sizzle down. Paes allows a return to sail past him only to discover there is enough topspin from Mirnyi's racquet to keep it within the lines. Huey floats a backhand back that somehow worms between Paes and Sa. 15-40. Just like that, the set is within a point of being conceded. Paes finds a first serve to save one. Then another first serve to take it to deuce. He is growling now, his eyes are determined. Sa is being beseeched with the index finger.
5-5.
Mirnyi isn't new to this counterpunching from Paes. They have faced off several times over their long careers. He also knows this Paes is the most dangerous Paes. He will need no second invitation. A return rockets past Mirnyi's racquet and shaves the line. But he is rattled and urges the chair umpire to reconsider the linesman's call.
"That was right before my nose," he snarls at her. "And your nose."
Tie-break time and this is pugilism now. The first point is won by Paes & Sa after a rapid exchange of volleys. For a sprinkling of Indian people in the stands, their hero is sublime form. "Yeaaah" goes Paes. "Yes", they go.
2-0. 3-0. And then, in a blur of activity, Huey and Mirnyi upgrade the settings on their performance level. Paes & Sa are punctured by an array of ferocious shot-making. Seven straight points are claimed and in the blink of an eye, the contest is now equal.
"My wife thinks the colour of the shirt is hibiscus," the old man seated behind me smiles. He is enjoying this. Every bit of it.
When playing tennis doubles, angles are the game's driving force. The tram lines are in play and invite audacity from the participants. While hustling in behind serves with a partner at the net to kill weak returns is comforting, players are aware of the additional court available to their opponents across the net. Paes' eyes are forever in search of these angles. When he waits on a lob to land, he glances across the other side to capture a mental image of where Mirnyi & Sa are standing. He whiplashes the backhand slice across and knows that as it lands, it will skid through on court. It is the sort of shot that doubles players earn their money from. Paes beams at its successful execution.
3-3 it is now. Final set. Paes hasn't lost serve all match and we are headed towards the second hour of play being completed. The Huey and Mirnyi guns are blazing in frenzy of shot making. Game seven, goes an old tennis cliché, often decides the fate of a set. And so it is. 0-15. 0-30. 0-40. Paes needs to rescue a rapidly sinking ship. 15-40. A fierce exchange. 30-40. Chest bumps.
There isn't a distracted eye in the house now but the finish to the game is anti-climatic. Paes dumps a high volley into the net. His serve has deserted him on the home stretch of this tantalising battle. High-fives at the opposite end, droopy shoulders at this one. The tension is punctured out of the arena, which goes deathly quiet.
A train whistles by behind us. Minutes later, Paes & Sa are beaten for the third time in four matches this year. He hasn't won an ATP tour men's doubles tournament since January 2015. His ranking has slid into the 60s. He knows the numbers. He understands the uphill nature of this battle. He is a man of nearly 44. He is the owner of a formidable reputation. He is battle scarred.
Yet, somehow on that court, out on the edge of this monstrously large facility, he was scrapping on. He was living to fight another day.