In tennis, those who come in are not welcome

Tennis and the Southern California desert should fit like hand in glove.

In March, the desert is perfect. But is today's game of tennis?

Certainly, the balls move faster, and so do the players. The rackets are more flexible, producing more power. Balls used to fly off rackets, now they rocket.

More and more, events such as this Pacific Life Open are in places like the Indian Wells Tennis Garden. The desert Taj Mahal.

The sport even has its own Tiger Woods, which is a good thing, because, without Roger Federer, tennis would be hearing over and over about how badly it pales in comparison to golf.

Indian Wells is tennis heaven: A 16,000-seat stadium with unobstructed sightlines and state-of-the-art suites. Matches almost always played under cloudless skies. Shopping everywhere. Restaurants, too. And Bud Collins interviewing Rod Laver for your entertainment while you munch.

Nor is this tournament the exception. It is an almost-major, perhaps the sixth-most-important event of the year, depending on who's measuring. The four Grand Slam events have all this, plus bigger stadiums and even more buzz. These tennis people really know how to put on the dog.

The fan base is solid. The U.S. Open in New York measures its profits not in dollars, but in Brink's trucks. Indian Wells is projected to attract around 320,000 fans in these two weeks, up from 303,000 a year ago.

So, with all this, could there be any criticism? Matter of fact, yes.

It seems that tennis, while constantly improving its infrastructure, marketing, restaurants, shopping and even player exposure, is doing little to diversify its game. Not its players. Its game.

Here, and everywhere, there is a sameness to the matches. They are metronomes of swings and grunts from the baseline that, in many cases, go on interminably. It seems the players are so good at what they do that they refuse to do anything else. Or even try.

Such as approaching the net. Hitting a volley. Forcing the issue from the service line instead of the baseline. A player plays an entire match that way about every full moon now.

Wednesday, when the world's No. 2-ranked player, Rafael Nadal, held off newcomer Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, it was three hours of wows. Many fans left more drained than Nadal and Tsonga. Same with Nadal-James Blake the next night.

But those are exceptions. The norm is three hours of David Nalbandian and Richard Gasquet. Or Nalbandian and anybody.