One big surprise of 2014 was the big turnout for the International Premier Tennis League (IPTL) last week. Even the nosebleed section was full (at P2,900 a pop).

 

The IPTL became the hottest ticket in town.

 

On opening day of the Nov. 28-30 team tennis matches, long streams of vehicles led to the venue, SM Mall of Asia Arena in Pasay, almost causing a traffic jam. Big crowds gathered at the gates, wanting to buy tickets at the last minute.

 

What was even more surprising was how the fans drooled over the tennis champions like they were rock stars—they were (Maria Sharapova is the highest paid woman athlete endorser)—and staked them out at Edsa Shangri-La hotel where they were billeted, and in other places where they were scheduled to show up.

 

A die-hard fan of   Sharapova took his position at the hotel lobby and stayed there for a good 12 hours, waiting for the grand slam champion to check in.

 

When she finally did before midnight, he was so disappointed because she didn’t linger to greet fans. But given the fan’s strong resolve, he talked to her manager who promised him that the next day, he would have not only a selfie with Sharapova but would also get to talk to her.

 

Nice time

 

And he did. Sharapova chatted with him briefly, yet long enough to tell him that she had a nice time in Palawan before this Manila stint.

 

Social media chat groups had never been busier—and more hilarious. People posted their photos with the tennis stars—“kahit na sa cameraman,” asked one who was desperate for a souvenir shot of his tennis moment.

 

Friends asked friends who were closer to the court to get good figure shots of Sharapova, Ana Ivanovic, Daniela Hantuchova— especially their thighs, legs. (“Ano ’yan, Kenny Rogers?” one replied to a request.)

 

Our favorite post was a group that called themselves “Manila Mabaliks”—a pun on Manila Mavericks, the team representing the Philippines in the four-leg series. (“Mabalik” is the colloquial for a tennis player who’s consistent in hitting the ball.)

 

Indeed, in a country where basketball has a near-monopoly, it was quite entertaining to see how a good sector of the population had fun watching tennis, a good break from the national teleserye of political mudslinging, a breather from natural disasters that worsened into manmade ones.

 

Based on the crowds that watched the three-day IPTL, the tennis demographics in the country is wide. The profile cuts across social class, gender and age.

 

There were the rich and the poor, the who’s who of politics, business and high society, the young and the very old. We even spotted a few in wheelchairs.

 

We saw former Sen. Manny Villar two days in a row. Foreign Affairs Secretary Albert del Rosario—a tennis player in his younger years—was around with wife Gretchen. Sen. Miriam Santiago watched with husband Jun, and they held hands as they watched, so we were told.

 

Kit Zobel, a Class A player who’s a regular in the tournament circuit, was there on all three days. “Tennis heaven,” she told us.

 

Cris and Nanette (Medved) Po guided their kids, big tennis balls in hand, in getting the autographs of players at courtside.

 

‘Habol, habol’

 

Francis Lumen was my seatmate, shouting “habol, habol” at the Manila Mavericks who were trailing behind—as if it was club play. It was none of that, but it was just as fun. Ivanovic even danced a bit, Gael Monfils danced quite a bit.

 

 

Pagcor chair Bong Naguiat and wife Tet, with their kids, were also there, glued to the court action.

 

The most envied man on those three days must have been die-hard tennis player and patron Jean Henri Lhuillier (Cebuana Lhuillier tennis team), who sat on the bench with the Manila Mavericks.

The son of Jean Henri and Bea Lhuillier was one of the ballboys, and Jean Henri recalled how he jokingly told Andy Murray, “My son is scared you might scold him if he’s not fast enough (in getting the ball).” Murray was nice about it and assured him he wouldn’t.

Indeed Murray struck many as a nice, warm guy.

 

Young player Matthew, the son of Dyan Castillejo-Garcia and Anton Garcia, was also a ballboy.

 

It was funny how a man behind us, an uncle, would shout, “Good job, David,” when a ballboy would make a good dash for the ball. “That’s my godson,” he’d tell people.

 

Indeed, this humongous event was a cozy affair, where tennis aficionados gathered and bonded, and were just happy to be under the same roof as the court gladiators they saw only on TV.

 

This fan-friendly format would surely win over many to the sport. An annual IPTL should be able to expand the tennis market beyond the exclusive sports clubs.

 

After the games, some tennis stars made the rounds of the corporate suites on the Arena’s higher level and dropped in so that its occupants could have photo ops with them.

 

When Australian tennis icon Patrick Rafter entered our suite, my friends—from 18 to 80 (OK, no one was 80)—let out a scream, loud enough to disrupt the court action below.

 

“Patrick,” I told him, “looks like you’d never leave this room ever.” He laughed. (Was that a nervous laugh?)

 

And that was the high that was 2014 (including, of course, the morning that we hit three or four balls with Murray).