Marat Safin Roasts Taylor Fritz in a Hilarious Practice Session at Madrid Open
The session started off casually, but the humor kicked in when Fritz struggled to land consecutive serves. After missing his first serve, Safin, never one to hold back his emotions, immediately reacted with a loud, "Oh my God!" drawing laughs from those watching nearby. As Fritz attempted to reset and hit his second serve, the ball once again missed its mark. Safin, quick with another jab, shouted, "Go to practice, man!" — sending the court into fits of laughter.
The interaction, captured on camera, quickly made the rounds on social media, showcasing Safin's trademark dry wit and charismatic presence. Known throughout his career as a flamboyant and colorful character, Safin was never afraid to show emotion, crack jokes, or pull the legs of unsuspecting people around him. His larger-than-life personality and an aura of coolness made him a fan favorite not just for his powerful game, but also for his unpredictability and humor both on and off the court.
Advertisement
Taylor Fritz, currently one of the top American players on the ATP Tour, took the ribbing in stride, laughing along with Safin and the crowd. The good-natured exchange highlighted the camaraderie and relaxed atmosphere that can exist even among highly competitive athletes, especially during practice sessions at major tournaments.
Mar 20, 2022; Indian Wells, CA, USA; Taylor Fritz (USA) with his girlfriend Morgan Riddle after defeating Rafael Nadal© Jayne Kamin-Oncea-Imagn Images
As Safin continues to guide Andrey Rublev through the ATP ranks, it's clear that his unique blend of intensity, mischief, and good humor remains very much alive — much to the delight of fans everywhere.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
New York Times
7 minutes ago
- New York Times
Predicting the College Football Playoff bracket: Why Bruce Feldman likes Clemson in 2025
A good lesson from the first year of the 12-team College Football Playoff is that it's a long, long, long season. Last year, most of us wrote off Ohio State after it lost to Michigan, and we saw how that turned out. Plenty wrote off Clemson, before it won the ACC, and many even wrote off Notre Dame after the Irish lost to NIU. Advertisement But folks aren't writing off Clemson now. I felt better about this in May when the Clemson bandwagon was still pretty empty, but now a lot of other folks are jumping on. They're buying in on Cade Klubnik (No. 1 in The Athletic's QB Tiers), the receivers, defensive tackle Peter Woods (the No. 5 player on my 2025 Freaks List), Tom Allen coming in to fix the defense, all of it. Heck, even Stew Mandel is starting to like Dabo's guys again. I was hedging my bets when predicting Clemson would face Texas again in the CFP, this time for the national title, earlier in the offseason. Now, I'm ready to go all in. I think. Here's my bracket for the 2025-26 College Football Playoff: In the No. 5 vs. No. 12 first-round game, I have Ohio State hosting Boise State. The Broncos will miss Ashton Jeanty, but they still have an experienced team led by QB Maddux Madsen to emerge as the top-ranked Group of 5 conference champion again. Sire Gaines and Dylan Riley are talented backs in their own right. Keep an eye on tiny Fresno State transfer Malik Sherrod, who is super elusive and created a lot of buzz there. Still, the Buckeyes are just too loaded for the Broncos. In the No. 8 vs. No. 9 game, I have No. 9 Miami visiting No. 8 Georgia, which means Carson Beck gets to face his old team. Beck will flourish in offensive coordinator Shannon Dawson's system at Miami, and watch out for Canes RB Jordan Lyle. The Bulldogs still have a fierce defense, but I predict Beck handles it and the ACC gets a big win over an SEC powerhouse. I have Arizona State edging out Oregon for the No. 11 slot, which faces No. 6 LSU. This is a good quarterback matchup between Garrett Nussmeier and Sam Leavitt. Expect LSU's defense to take a good step forward in coordinator Blake Baker's second season running the show in Baton Rouge, and I think LSU will slow down the Sun Devils. Advertisement In the No. 7 vs. No. 10 game, Big 12 champion Iowa State hosts Notre Dame. The Cyclones have a stout defense, but the Irish running attack led by Jeremiyah Love and Jadarian Price will take over the game in the second half, giving Marcus Freeman another CFP win. Former Alabama signee Julian Sayin — who left Tuscaloosa after Nick Saban retired — and Ohio State get No. 4 Alabama in the quarterfinals. The country's top two wideouts, Jeremiah Smith and Ryan Williams, will also meet. Bama, which has lost its last two postseason games against Big Ten opponents, gets some revenge by knocking off the Buckeyes as Ty Simpson continues an impressive first season as the Alabama starter. There's an ACC title game rematch in the quarterfinals when Miami plays No. 1 Clemson. As good as the Canes' offensive line is, the Tigers' defensive line gives them some fits, and Klubnik gets the best of an improved Miami secondary. LSU gets No. 3 Penn State, the Big Ten champion, in the quarterfinals. The Nittany Lions are loaded on both sides of the ball, and new DC Jim Knowles slows down the Tigers' offense to get Penn State into the semifinals. Arch Manning's first Playoff game as starting quarterback for No. 2 Texas, the SEC champion, comes against the Irish. Though it took the Longhorns some time for their rebuilt offensive line with four new starters to come together, they cruise past Notre Dame to make it to the semifinals. My final four: Texas-Penn State and Clemson-Alabama. The chess match between Knowles and Texas coach Steve Sarkisian is a fun one. For months, I've had Texas in the title game, but I'm flip-flopping and going with Drew Allar and the Nittany Lions. It'll be a tight game, but this time Allar, with a much-improved group of wide receivers, comes up big in the clutch. Advertisement In the other semifinal, Clemson gets past Alabama, although the Tide's offensive line holds up pretty well against the Tigers' defensive front. Tom Allen, who was Penn State's defensive coordinator last year, meets his old team in the title game with Clemson. The familiarity on both sides of the ball makes for an interesting subplot. I could see Penn State winning it all. The Nittany Lions have all the pieces they need now to do it, both on their roster and at the coordinator spots. But I'm going with my hunch that it's Clemson's year. I'll stick with it. (Top photo by Jacob Kupferman / Getty Images for ONIT) Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Play today's puzzle
Los Angeles Times
36 minutes ago
- Los Angeles Times
His immigrant mother named him after a sun god. Now Tonatiuh is a breakout star
Amid brightly colored stands selling spices, candies and imitation Labubus in all shades, the mono-monikered actor Tonatiuh sips on a hibiscus agua fresca at El Mercadito in Boyle Heights. The indoor market has been a staple of Latino life and commerce since it opened in the late 1960s. Not far from here, his aunt still runs the business that she and Tonatiuh's mother, an immigrant from the Mexican state of Guanajuato, opened decades ago. 'My mom cut hair for a long time, so I grew up in a beauty salon,' he says, casually dressed in a light blue button-up shirt. 'That's why I talk so much.' The school Tonatiuh attended as a kid, Our Lady of Lourdes, is also in the vicinity, as is the place where he learned to ride a bicycle, Hollenbeck Park. To say that the streets of Boyle Heights, where he was born, nurtured his worldview would be an understatement. 'These last few months have been really difficult,' Tonatiuh tells me, referencing the recent ICE raids that have ravaged the fabric of the city. He calls them vicious: a 'PR cycle against people with dignity, taxpaying individuals who are feeding their families and running businesses, quite literally living the American dream, as cliché as that may sound. ' Even as his own dreams are beginning to materialize, Tonatiuh, 30, remains tethered to these places and people. His career is about to launch into Hollywood's firmament with a dual role in director Bill Condon's screen adaptation of the stage musical version of 'Kiss of the Spider Woman' (in theaters Oct. 10). The rising Mexican American actor shares dramatic space with superstars Jennifer Lopez and Diego Luna. Reviews out of the Sundance Film Festival, where the movie debuted in January, praised Tonatiuh's performance as a breakthrough. His electrifying turn is equal parts heart-wrenching, deliciously irreverent and technically impressive. For the bulk of the film, Tonatiuh plays Luis Molina, a passionate gay prisoner in jail during Argentina's 1970s-era Dirty War who is infatuated with the dazzling escapism of the movies — especially with the allure of fictional screen diva Ingrid Luna (a standout Lopez). Molina indulges in fantasies to stay sane, a dreamscape we experience as scenes from a 1940s classic Hollywood musical. In them, Tonatiuh sings and dances as the dashing Kendall Nesbitt dressed to the nines in elegant tuxes. The musical portion of the film was shot in New York, while for the prison sequences only involving Tonatiuh and Diego Luna as Valentin, a rugged revolutionary, the production relocated to Uruguay. The effect, Tonaituh says, was like making two separate movies. To perform alongside Lopez, he rehearsed with Broadway dancers for a month leading up to the shooting. 'When I first met Jennifer, I was like, 'Oh my God, that's Jennifer Lopez, what the hell?'' he recalls with contagious energy. 'I must have turned left on the wrong street because now I'm standing in front of her. How did this happen? What life am I living?' One would think Tonatiuh's mother knew he was destined to become a star when naming him after the brightest heavenly body. 'She had a dream when she was pregnant with me where she was in a field surrounded by golden orbs and they turned into the sun,' he explains. 'And because of the Aztec mythology of Tonatiuh being the sun god, she woke up from the dream and was like, 'My kid's name is going to be Tonatiuh.'' Growing up around Latinos, his Indigenous name didn't raise eyebrows. But that changed once Tonatiuh got a taste of the demands of assimilation. 'As we moved to West Covina, everyone tried to impose their anglicized identity onto me, and I went with it for many years,' he says. 'Then I started realizing, 'Why am I denying even my own name to fit in?' It's so stupid.' The entertainment industry proved just as unwilling to accept all of him. Those advising him warned him to play ball. 'It's already hard enough given the way you look,' Tonatiuh recalls hearing from them. 'I was just like, 'Are we going to change my name to Albert?'' As for his last name, Elizarraraz, he conceded it might be a bridge too far for English-only speakers. 'My first name's already difficult enough,' Tonatiuh says. 'They are not ready for that.' Increasingly, he found the concept of a mononym enticing. 'I was like, 'How many other Tonatiuhs are in the industry?' I looked it up on SAG, and it was just me,' he says. Enamored with drama from a young age, Tonatiuh remembers watching James Cameron's 'Titanic' on VHS as a formative experience. But it wasn't until a friend's mother invited him to see a live performance of 'Wicked' when he was a teenager that acting grabbed him. 'I like stories with a hook and a bite to it,' he says. ''Wicked' is about segregation and the rise of it in America. But it's in metaphor. 'Animal Farm' is the same way. There are beautiful, entertaining works that are also poignant, with messaging. That messaging is what's most interesting to me.' Despite his love of performing and storytelling, a more conventional path seemed likely. At the end of high school, Tonatiuh had been accepted to multiple universities to study political science. 'I have a very strong intolerance to injustice,' he says, a past victim of bullying and, like many children of immigrants, his mother's de facto translator and legal avatar. 'In my mind, I was like, I can help and be of most use if I became a lawyer or a politician.' But thanks to an English teacher who suggested he should instead pursue his true passion, Tonatiuh doubled down on acting. His mother would drive him in traffic from West Covina to the South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa every morning before work so that he could have a chance at a proper acting education. 'I must have done something to earn her, because she's such a loving person and her biggest thing was that she just wanted me to be happy,' he says of his devoted parent. Formal training at USC followed, though Tonatiuh still felt uncertain on how to carve out space for himself, joining local L.A. theater companies while auditioning for TV and film roles. 'The hardest part of acting is the auditions, because it's awkward,' he says. 'Once you put the pieces in place, submitting to the story and using the words as your weapons to guide you through it, acting is just so fun.' Showrunner Tanya Saracho became aware of Tonatiuh after seeing him in a play. She invited him to join the ensemble of 'Vida,' a series filmed in his native Boyle Heights, in the role of Marcos, an academically accomplished queer man. Sociopolitically outspoken material has shaped Tonatiuh's resume so far: 'Vida' dealt with gentrification, while the 2022 ABC series 'Promised Land' followed undocumented characters who amassed power by way of wealth. Now, 'Kiss of the Spider Woman' examines authoritarianism through a queer lens. 'My body is being used for a purpose much greater than just entertainment,' he says. 'I didn't have any nepotism. I was very fortunate that people believed in me, and they gave me opportunities.' 'Spider Woman' director Condon credits producer Ben Affleck with the liberty to cast someone talented but not yet a household name. 'He said, 'I know how important this is,'' Condon, an Oscar winner for 1998's 'Gods and Monsters,' recalls. 'He took that off the table right away.' The search for Condon's Molina/Kendall was as extensive as the one he did for Effie in his film version of 'Dreamgirls' 20 years earlier, the role that famously went to singer Jennifer Hudson. 'Hundreds of actors in South America, Central America, Mexico, Spain, New York, Los Angeles, London and other cities,' remembers Condon. 'But it wasn't like with all those hundreds there were dozens of credible choices. There were really just a handful.' Among them, Tonatiuh grabbed attention on a self-taped audition. Condon sought someone who could be persuasive within the gritty realism of a prison movie, while also credibly being a larger-than-life Hollywood musical star. Tonatiuh inhabited both modes seamlessly. 'Tona has the most extraordinary, open, beautiful face,' Condon says. 'And his eyes just invite you in. There's a lot of camp humor and that's not something that comes naturally to someone of Tona's generation, but he just has it in his bones. But it's the depth of feeling that he can convey that mattered most.' Tonatiuh seized the chance to play two distinctly complex characters within one movie. His task, he says, was injecting contemporary ideas about queerness into a period piece. 'When I got this one, it felt super special because I don't think Hollywood always gives people like me an opportunity to play a character this dynamic,' Tonatiuh says. 'There is such a return when Hollywood invests in Latin talent and treats us like normal people. Give us a good story. We're not a genre.' And though he and Condon discussed Molina's mindset as well as the historical context and circumstances, Tonatiuh reveled in creative freedom because he wasn't the focus of intense supervision. 'There was a certain level of mischief and magic that was happening because I was the least-known person on set,' he says. 'And a lot of the eyes were on everyone else.' (That cover of anonymity might not last long.) Throughout the production, Tonatiuh felt that 'Kiss of the Spider Woman' spoke to his aspirations directly, not only to those of his characters. 'There was this moment where Jennifer looked at me in the song 'Where You Are,' and sang, 'Close your eyes and you'll become a movie star. Why must you stay where you are?' And in a weird way, it's happening.' Tonatiuh flew his mother and stepfather out to New York to witness 'Where You Are,' an imposing musical number involving close to 70 people in front of the camera. When Lopez and Tonatiuh performed their dance duet, his mother was in awe. 'Now she wants to be Kris Jenner — she wants to be the momager,' Tonatiuh says, only half-joking. 'In this time where Latinos are getting a lot of s—, it makes me really happy that I can bring her some pride.' Yet, his mother hasn't seen the finished film. He wants her to experience it at the upcoming premiere. 'I want her to get the full experience of getting to walk the carpet,' he says. His eyes wet, Tonatiuh recalls an emotional scene with Luna's Valentin, Molina's improbable love interest, that once again seemed to him as if film and his reality were in direct conversation. 'When I'm telling Valentin, 'The film's almost over and I don't want it to end,' it broke my heart because I realized that the film was actually almost over and I didn't want it to end,' he says. 'I bawled my eyes out as if I'd lost the love of my life, and that, for me as a person — what a gift, because it's fake but it was real for me.' Since wrapping 'Kiss of the Spider Woman,' Tonatiuh has acted in Jeremy O. Harris' play 'Spirit of the People' and Ryan Murphy's upcoming series 'American Love Story.' For his next act, he wants to start from scratch. 'I want to do something completely different than Molina because I love being a shape-shifter,' he says. 'I want to be unrecognizable every time I come on screen.'
Los Angeles Times
36 minutes ago
- Los Angeles Times
Spinal Tap is back and ready to talk. Just don't bring up the last movie
I'm a minute into my interview with Spinal Tap and I've already angered vocalist David St. Hubbins. Sitting down with the rock trio, which includes lead guitarist Nigel Tufnel and bassist Derek Smalls, I mention what an honor it is to speak to the legendary group. 'Just slow your roll,' Tap's frontman barks. 'You don't know it's a real honor until you start. So start, and you'll find out if it is.' Not an auspicious beginning to an hour-long conversation with England's loudest and most punctual band. But a bit of testiness is understandable. On this late July morning at Studio 1 Culver, Tap begins its promotional duties for the long-awaited sequel to 1984's 'This Is Spinal Tap,' the documentary that unwittingly revitalized the pioneering metal group's career. The world is wondering if lightning will strike twice, so a lot is on the line for Tap. In fact, you can feel the tension as video crews and production personnel dart anxiously through the cavernous studio. Earlier in the day, I had separately seen each of the band members preparing for our interview, which was to be in character. Michael McKean, 77, sat in a makeup chair, eyes closed, as the wig that transforms him into St. Hubbins was being fussed over. I accidentally bumped into Harry Shearer, 81, in a conference room, not yet fully decked out as Smalls. And, later, Christopher Guest, 77, was spotted pacing around as Tufnel, speaking in the axman's jabbing working-class English accent to an assistant. Now, though, as we all sit together in this quiet side room, the guys are fully Tapped in as the fictional band members, focused on the expectations surrounding this forthcoming film. Back in 1984, director Marty DiBergi (better known as Rob Reiner) chronicled the trio during their disastrous American tour, one that seemed to signal the group's death knell. Instead, Spinal Tap have enjoyed many afterlives, occasionally reuniting before dissolving into acrimony once again. Consequently, there's plenty of fan curiosity about 'Spinal Tap II: The End Continues' (opening Sept. 12), which follows the behind-the-scenes preparations for Tap's latest — and maybe last? — comeback show, the group's first public performance since 2009. It should be a triumphant moment, but there's one problem: DiBergi has yet to show them the movie. 'Marty's hiding something,' Smalls says, concerned. He looks to his bandmates for reassurance, his soulful eyes framed by his still fabulously bushy eyebrows. 'I don't know about that,' replies St. Hubbins, trying to stay positive. Even all these years later, he's a natural leader hoping to keep this boat from capsizing.'The first film didn't really portray us in the best light. But I still think it was from a good place. I don't think he was setting out to do anything wrong.' 'But he managed it, somehow,' Tufnel chimes in. He seems grumpy, like he's not entirely happy to be here. In a separate Zoom interview, DiBergi explains why he's dragging his feet: He's nervous how Tap will respond. 'They were very upset with the way I portrayed them,' he tells me. 'I thought I showed them in a good light but I guess they felt that I showed too many of the warts and not enough of the clear skin.' Indeed the guys are still salty about how they came off in 'This Is Spinal Tap.' Smalls, for one, is tired of people making fun of them for getting lost on the way to the stage during that infamous Cleveland show. 'Many times during that tour, we got to the stage,' Smalls points out, proudly. 'And as an addendum,' St. Hubbins adds, 'if Marty had the information — 'Oh, you want to go through this door' — he could have told us.' If the mighty musical force behind such stone-cold bangers as 'Big Bottom' and 'Sex Farm' weren't thrilled at how they were portrayed in the first film, they will not be pleased to learn that, 41 years later, they continue to be captured exhibiting hopelessly moronic behavior. (One of Smalls' musical contributions to the new film is a song titled 'Rockin' in the Urn,' which is about head-banging after cremation.) But what's less expected are the faintest hints of maturity in a band celebrated for stuffing its trousers and mistaking being sexist for being sexy. Have the guys who once wrote 'Bitch School' finally become enlightened? 'Well, certainly they've changed physically,' DiBergi tells me. 'They're in their 70s now. But as far as their music and their outlook on life, I didn't see a whole lot of growth there. I talked to their promoter. He said that he was surprised at how little they had grown emotionally or musically. They did grow wrinkles on their face.' Noticeably, none of the bandmates sit closely together in the room, each in his own chair in a circle staring at one another. Where once they were garish young rockers buried under mascara, now they are garish older rockers, desperately hanging onto their youth. St. Hubbins' hair is bleached blond, while Tufnel's makeup does nothing to hide the years. Smalls' mustache still looks magnificent. The atmosphere is cordial, if not exactly warm. 'Spinal Tap II' reveals that they now live in different parts of the globe — St. Hubbins in Morro Bay, Calif.; Tufnel in Berwick-upon-Tweed in Northern England; Smalls in London — and haven't spoken since the last comeback tour. Still, they try to be philosophical about the unspoken friction between them. 'We last played together before all this in 2009,' St. Hubbins explains. 'A lot has happened since then. That tour didn't end terribly well. It's a personal thing — we've worked it out, we've managed to forget most of it. So we did have a lot of time to be apart and to think, 'How did we get here? Do we like it here? Would we like to go somewhere else — is there a taxi that can take us there?'' Nonetheless, the guys know how lucky they are. Never mind how many of their drummers have died along the way. (In 'Spinal Tap II,' their attempts to recruit all-stars like Questlove and Lars Ulrich go nowhere because everyone is too scared to sign up for the gig.) So many of their peers are now gone. A week before we speak, Ozzy Osbourne succumbed to a fatal heart attack. Not that Tap ever resorted to biting the head off a bat. 'We had doves,' St. Hubbins points out. 'We didn't bite them. Some of them bit us.' 'We killed them,' notes Smalls. 'Well, that was an accident,' St. Hubbins says. 'They suffocated — that was a packing issue. Should have used more peanuts.' It's a remarkable thing to be alive long enough to see this once-derided band finally getting its due. But as 'Spinal Tap II' demonstrates, metal bands get respectable if they last long enough, which might explain why Elton John and Paul McCartney show up in the new film to pay tribute. Even the reviewers have gotten kinder, although St. Hubbins has little nice to say about the press, recalling his least-favorite question a journalist ever asked him: What's the meaning of life? 'It was all I could do to keep from slapping her for even asking that,' he grumbles. 'It was just a sneaky, ultra-personal question, because I do know the meaning of life but I'm not going to tell anyone. Work it out yourself.' They're happier reminiscing about the band's early days, when childhood chums St. Hubbins and Tufnel first formed as the Thamesmen, later bringing on Smalls. 'David was always the restless one,' recalls Tufnel. 'He was always searching for something to write about. Derek was always the quiet one. He'd nod a lot and we'd think, 'He must know the answer.' It turned out he had a neck thing — but he knows when to say things and when not to.' Rock 'n' roll, of course, isn't just Tap's abiding passion but also one of its principal lyrical concerns. 'Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight,' 'Heavy Duty' and 'The Majesty of Rock' saluted the glory of power chords and swaggering attitude. The band has also recorded its fair share of songs about fame and Stonehenge, but the trio have largely shied away from politics. During these dark, divisive days, has there been a temptation to sing about the state of the world? 'I would consider writing a song telling people that we're not going to write any songs about politics,' St. Hubbins counters. 'That would be useful — then people would stop asking questions like that. No offense.' Is this something that comes up a lot with journalists? 'Never,' he replies. 'You're the first. But we're drawing the line there.' 'Can I ask a question?' Tufnel interjects, confused. 'This has begun? The interview?' Of the three musicians, Tufnel seems the most different since the first film. Now happily operating a small cheese shop and living contentedly with his girlfriend, he mostly avoids the spotlight. But when asked what he'd tell his younger self, he gets alarmed. 'If the older us is going back [in time], the younger one would probably have a heart attack — it's a frightening idea,' he says. Some will accuse Spinal Tap of going for a cynical cash grab with this new film, which will be accompanied by a new album and a written oral history, 'A Fine Line Between Stupid and Clever: The Story of Spinal Tap.' But the band strenuously denies that accusation. 'That doesn't apply to us,' Tufnel says. 'Because there's no cash,' Smalls admits. Tufnel nods. 'There's no cash involved in our careers, basically.' And in regard to whether this latest reunion will stick, previous ones certainly didn't. But you can't keep a good made-up rock band down. 'It's better and worse than a family,' Tufnel says of Tap's bond, 'because you have closeness — and the tension and the resentment and the hatred.' 'The thing that's different about this family,' St. Hubbins adds, 'is there's no one richer than us who's going to leave us any money. Families often have that to look forward to.' 'Everybody in the world is richer than us,' Tufnel declares, which gets a surprised laugh out of McKean. Not St. Hubbins, but McKean, who seems delighted by his longtime partner. Perhaps Spinal Tap's musical heyday is over, but they can still crack each other up. Who knows: Maybe these guys have a future in comedy.
