Day 1: Mariathon

Reuters

They called her Semipova.

From the time she won her first Slam till her second, she was blessed with cupcake draws at most of the majors and bashed her way to the semifinals before succumbing to someone better.

Now, after a career littered with distractions, injuries and disinterest, Maria Sharapova would probably give back $10M of her $70M Nike contract to advance to another one for the first time since she won here two years ago in one of the greatest Slam performances of the decade.

The 3-time Slam champion, highest-paid female athlete in history, and former Melbourne champion was sent packing by her good friend, the more beautiful, if less glamorous, Maria Kirilenko, in the first round.

I thought she'd find a way to win the match and get out of this soft quarter, but it wasn't to be. As someone wrote elsewhere, perhaps if she spent as much time on her serve as she has her fashion design....

Decked out a blueish green thing that looked more like a draped undergarment of seaweed and tinsels -- with a belt -- than a tennis dress, she struck more than 70 unforced errors to lose the match.

The other Maria, dressed in normal attire since Stella McCartney kicked her to the curb for a younger model, fought and choked and recovered and fought to earn one of the biggest upsets of her career. With a simple index finger pressed to her closed lips, she urged her camp to celebrate quietly. She did just beat her very good friend, after all.

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Other than all the errors from both Marias, the marathon was marred by such a lugubrious pace, it was difficult to follow. I was expecting the chair umpire to deliver a eulogy at some point. The first two games of the second set took 27 minutes to complete.

Now matter how beautiful the contestants, channels flipped all over the globe.

Mean time and later, rain soaked the schedule; the Belgian contenders cruised; the suspended/unsuspended/suspended/unsuspended one barely survived; the Scotsman crushed; the top American male prevailed; Oz's favorite tortured female underdog looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else but in front of the fans who made her comeback last year so electrifying; Darren "Killer" Cahill admitted on a live microphone that NFL star Terrell Owens looked a lot like his last boyfriend, "to be honest"; and the top Spaniard debuted his pajama bottoms at the inaugural night Slam match of the new decade.

Ah. Yes.

Tennis.

What's not to love?