January 27, 2012

The Energy Crisis

Australian Open, Semifinal (Day Twelve)

(1) Djokovic d. (4) Murray, 6/3 3/6 6/7 6/1 7/5

If tennis matches had soundtracks – and this is certainly a matter worth lobbying the ITF about – tonight’s semifinal would have to be scored by Philip Glass, in his full early-minimalist splendour. Minimalism is a technique in which great complexity is wrought by repetitively permutating quite simple musical building blocks, in much the same way that Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray tonight produced an epic and dramatic five set tussle without once deviating from a uni-dimensional baseline approach. (Djokovic had the good grace to apologise to Rod Laver afterwards.) If Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer last night composed a minor masterpiece in four contrasting movements, Djokovic and Murray’s effort was closer to Einstein on the Beach, coming in at around the same running time, and inspiring a similarly pacifying loss of self-will in onlookers.

Channel 7, those unsurpassed masters of silver linings and tabloid guff, were not slow in applying a positive spin to Lleyton Hewitt’s loss back in the fourth round. The good news – and there was an immediate promo to highlight this for us – was that Hewitt would be re-joining the commentary team, and he would bring his various insights, and verbal tics – ‘tremendous ball striking’, ‘extremely well’ – with him. Naturally tonight’s match featured plenty of balls being tremendously struck, and both protagonists went about any number of their assigned tasks well, often extremely so. But Hewitt has added a new term to his catalogue of stock phrases, which is ‘energy’. By the second set, he was mentioning how Murray was or wasn’t ‘drawing energy from his player’s box’ so often that it was as though he believes it’s a thing, and not merely a metaphor, as though Kim Sears and Ivan Lendl were actually narrow-casting charged particles at the Scot. Hewitt also admonished Murray at one point for not hitting with enough ‘eviction’. It was, admittedly, a relief from the otherwise unbroken stream of clichés. In other words, Hewitt has slotted right in.

By this point Djokovic was beginning visibly to struggle, seemingly from the same respiratory issue that had afflicted him in his quarterfinal match. The world No.1 indicated imploringly to his box that he couldn’t breathe. Misreading his gestures, they continued transmitting ‘energy’, when what he really needed was oxygen. The message didn’t really get through until the fourth set, and by then their man was well down. Courier put the energy issue to Djokovic in the on-court interview: ‘Where did you get your energy from?’ Perhaps the metaphor holds little currency in Serbia: ‘Energy drinks, water, bananas?’ It earned him a laugh from the punch-drunk Rod Laver Arena crowd, whose affections had been courted ardently by both men as the fifth set wore down, via a series of direct and utterly heart-felt appeals. Channel 7’s latest gratuitous gimmick – the Decibel Meter – had very nearly overheated from all the energy directed its way. It reached something like 108, which long experience with meaningless numbers tells me is more than 107, but beyond that I cannot say, since to the television viewer such numbers are just a useless abstraction. 108 is loud I suppose?

Afterwards, there was much chatter of how much this match will mean for Murray, and how a respectable loss in the semifinal will harm him less than a shabby one in the final did in the last few years. The good news is that both Donald Young and Alex Bogomolov Jr had breakthrough seasons last year, so even if Murray loses to them again it will represent progress of sorts. To be fair, Murray was frequently wonderful tonight, and it wasn’t merely breathing issues that allowed him to push Djokovic to five sets. His fightback from 2/5 down in the fifth was especially stirring, although I can imagine he will relive the subsequent wasted breakpoints at 5/5 for some time to come. That’s how trauma works, and he seems prone to it.

As for Djokovic, he joins Nadal in the final of a third consecutive major, the first time two men have achieved this feat in the Open Era. Should he overcome Nadal, it will be his third straight major title, and his seventh straight final victory over Nadal. The question will be fitness, and energy, but not the symbolic kind that hums through tennis stadiums. Remember back to the Foro Italico last year, when Djokovic was pushed mightily by Murray in the semifinal, yet retained the wherewithal to defeat Nadal the following day. The time-frames and the exhaustion are more telescoped in a Masters event, but he’ll need to pull off something similar here in Melbourne. He’s the man to do it. He’ll just have to strike the ball tremendously, compete extremely well, and receive plenty of energy from his support team. And oxygen. He’ll need that, too.

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January 26, 2012

A Question of Judgement

Australian Open, Semifinal (Day Eleven)

(2) Nadal d. (3) Federer, 6/7 6/2 7/6 6/4

The winning pattern was clear from the beginning, as it so often is between these two. You go at his backhand hard – press and knead it without relent – and it will eventually break down. Sure, you’ll get soaked by the odd high-pressure winner, but mostly what leaks out, if you’re patient, is a short ball or an error. From there it’s simply a matter of mopping up. Sadly, Roger Federer could not maintain this tactic tonight beyond the first three games, although he periodically returned to it. Whenever he did come back to it – sometimes for games at time – he barely lost a point. Rafael Nadal’s backhand was typically impotent, retaining none of the élan with which it saw out the Berdych match. For some reason, however, whether it was confusion, arrogance or idiocy, Federer repeatedly veered away from this proven tactic. Much as he used to with the drop shot, does he believe that simply hammering away at an opponent’s weaker side is somehow cheap?

Nadal, thankfully, experiences no such compunction, and nor should he. If it’s cheap, then he is right to be parsimonious. He will happily hit to Federer’s backhand all day, although he never has to, since it falls apart rather quicker than that. However, there’s little point in harping on about it, since this is a defining pattern in all their matches, and it is the one thing everyone knows about their rivalry, even those who know nothing else. While it would be misleading to say this dynamic had no bearing on this match’s outcome, it truthfully had only little. It was really decided by Nadal’s outrageous strength (of game and mind), and Federer’s errors (of execution and of strategy). Nadal’s forehand in particular was very nearly perfect, and Federer engaged with it at his peril. The decision to avoid that wing should have thus been a no-brainer, although that equally sums up Federer’s decision not to.

Federer led in each of the first three sets, and in each one the lead was surrendered in a flurry of unforced errors. Without fail, his first serve deserted him when attempting to consolidate a break. He ended the night with a truly heroic 60 unforced errors, and I suspect at least half of those found the tape on forehands up the line, although this had some value insofar as it stopped him from following it to the net, and thence being passed.

The decision of whether or not to approach to Nadal’s forehand when rushing the net is roughly analogous to the decision of whether to slam your own head in the door when you pass through a doorway. It’s not really a decision at all. You just don’t do it, no exceptions. You don’t do it when Nadal doesn’t have to move, obviously, but you also don’t do it if he has to move, since he is as lethal on the run. They only time you may consider approaching to his forehand is when there is no chance he will hit it, such as when he is stranded in the backhand doubles alley with his foot in a bear trap. Then you can consider it, but should probably still opt out. Nadal earned his final breakpoint of the match – at 4/4 in the fourth set – with a sprinting forehand pass that nearly defied belief. It clearly defied Jim Courier’s belief, since he waxed adamant that Nadal had no business making it. Long experience has surely taught us that there has never been a more dangerous player running at a forehand than Nadal, even including Pete Sampras, although Djokovic is his superior when moving the other way. Nadal will strike some mighty backhand passes, undeniably, but I don’t recall Federer once laying a racquet on a forehand pass tonight.

Federer saved the first matchpoint, by doing nothing more than pressing Nadal’s backhand, without let-up. He won the point, then moved to breakpoint. He returned , pushed Nadal wide after the Spaniard’s response found the tape and snuck over. Nadal lunged and threw out his racquet, improvising a kind of squash-shot lob. Federer had perfect net position, but the lob cleared him, and landed on the back edge of the line. Federer’s subsequent overhead proved too ambitious, and arced wide, and they returned to deuce. With minimum consideration, I think I can say that that lob is perhaps the luckiest tennis shot I have ever seen, in fortune far exceeding anything Djokovic produced in New York. Afterwards, on court, Nadal conceded as much: ‘I was very lucky in that last game.’ However, like Djokovic’s famous forehand return, you can’t just be lucky; you also have to be good. I suspect Nadal would make that shot perhaps once in a thousand attempts. But that is probably a hundred times more frequently than I would make it, even allowing for the fact that I would never have reached it in the first place. We can declare that someone is lucky without also implying that they aren’t great. After all, Federer is surely great, but on this occasion, he was as surely unlucky. So it goes: that’s tennis.

In any case, it wasn’t bad luck that had brought Federer to match point down. At 4/3 in the fourth set, he earned yet another break point on Nadal’s serve, clocked a strong return, and teed off on a crosscourt forehand. It missed wide by inches. On the next point Nadal rolled in a first serve to Federer’s backhand (as he had all night), earned a short return, and teed off on a crosscourt forehand. It landed in by precisely the same distance that his opponent’s had missed by. This had nothing to do with Nadal kicking heavy balls over Federer’s shoulders (a sumptuous image), and everything to do with one guy’s strongest shot outperforming the other guy’s strongest shot. The metonymy was irrefutable, and definitive.

Interviewed afterwards, Nadal was typically gracious, and effusive in his praise of Federer, whom he happily compared to Rod Laver (who had by then surely left the building). Asked what advice he would give Andy Murray for tomorrow night’s semifinal, he suggested the Scot ‘be more aggressive,’ before admitting with a chuckle that his advice probably wasn’t up to much, given he’d lost to Djokovic six times in a row. As for Federer, he was clearly flattened as he left the court, but seemed more upbeat by the time he’d gain the more depressing confines of the press room. Indeed, he cut an appreciably chirpier figure than the pensive and curt one from twelve months ago, following his loss to Djokovic. As he remarked wryly to one reporter, ‘I haven’t lost in five months. Don’t feel too sorry for me.’

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January 26, 2012

On Inevitability

Australian Open, Quarterfinals (Day Ten)

(1) Djokovic d. (5) Ferrer, 6/4 7/6 6/1

(4) Murray d. (24) Nishikor, 6/3 6/3 6/1

David Ferrer, in the press conference following his straight sets loss to Novak Djokovic last night, was asked whether the gap between the top four in men’s tennis and the rest of the field could be closed. His response was blunt and realistic, indeed more so than his assessment of his own game had been: ‘No, I don’t think so . . . I think the top four, it’s another level.’

For a time the dull joke had been that the big four were a lock for the semifinals at every significant event they all entered, notwithstanding that it happened less frequently than most pundits realised. The joke became an absurdity last year, however, when it occurred more than anyone could believe. For all the talk of great depth in men’s tennis, such emphatic domination by an elite coterie of players has no precedent. Since the beginning of last year there have been five Majors contested (including the current Australian Open), which means there have been 20 semifinal berths available. The top four have filled 18 of those 20 spots, with the exceptions being Ferrer at last year’s Australian Open, and Tsonga at Wimbledon. Bear in mind that Ferrer defeated an injured Rafael Nadal for his spot, while Tsonga overran Roger Federer from two sets to love down, the first time this had happened in a Major. Had Nadal’s hamstring held together, and had Federer closed out that match, it could very well have been 20 from 20 spots. They aren’t the Big Four merely because they win everything, but because they stop anyone else from even getting close.

However, we must be careful here, and not collapse too readily into the trap wrought by a tight perspective. Viewed from within, the interminable can easily seem eternal, whereas a longer perspective reveals change. At the end of 2004, Federer’s first dominant season, the question was already asked whether anyone could actually challenge him at the top of the game. In July of 2005 Nadal commenced his record stint of 160 consecutive weeks at No.2. By 2007, we were again restive with the status quo, and began asking how the duopoly at the top might be broken apart. It turned out it couldn’t be (for now), but it could be augmented. By January 2008, Novak Djokovic had claimed his first Major, and had locked down the No.3 spot. Within another eighteen months, Murray had broadened the elite once more. The Scot has yet to claim a Slam – and I may well be as sick of hearing about that as he is – but he has now reached the semifinals or better at six of the last eight Majors, and claimed eight Masters titles.

The certainty that the top four would therefore reach the semifinals at this Australian Open was so pervasive and obvious that even essaying predictions seemed like an exercise in going through the motions. (Plenty of people still went through those motions, largely because ‘draw analysis’ is virtually self-generating content.) Whether your picks were based on sound statistical modelling, a vague gut-feeling, or a consultation with your local haruspex, the outcome was much the same. With the semifinal line-up locked in, interest turned to the quarterfinals, and to the question of who might actually be challenged in the final eight. Most people picked Berdych to face Nadal, del Potro to face Federer, Tsonga to face Murray, and Ferrer to face Djokovic. There was some variation engendered by the vagaries of nationalism – such as Tennis.com’s insinuation of Fish or Isner into the final eight – but most objective observers seemed to predict that configuration for the quarterfinals. For the most part, they were correct. Only Tsonga failed to make it the cut, falling to Kei Nishikori in five sets the round before. If certainty in the final four inspires a eulogy on the death of men’s tennis, then being able to predict the final eight surely broadens it into a requiem.

This notion – that there is a discernible Little Four directly below the Big Four – was also put to Ferrer in his presser. He shirked engaging with the idea, perhaps due to the clumsiness of the question itself. He knows that while his lesser group may have pushed through to the quarterfinals as predicted, in some cases it was a close run thing, and that once there, only Berdych offered much resistance. He seemed resigned to this. Perhaps that’s the issue. It’s hard to resist the idea that we all are, and that even the other 124 guys in the draw were as certain as the rest of us precisely who would remain standing once 128 became four.

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January 25, 2012

Petrushka in Fist Pumps

Australian Open, Quarterfinals (Day Nine)

(2) Nadal d. (7) Berdych, 6/7 7/6 6/4 6/3

Serving at 5-6 in the second tiebreaker, Rafael Nadal came within a foot of trailing Tomas Berdych two sets to love. Luckily for the Spaniard, the foot belonged to Berdych, and it was, typically, in his mouth, where it had been for days, ever since that set-to with Nicolas Almagro. An engaging point ended with Berdych at the net, and a testing but makeable backhand volley on his strings. The volley found the alley, and Nadal claimed the set a few points later. His celebration was a marvel of avante garde choreography, Petrushka in fist pumps. The first stage of the match was over – after just two and a half hours on court – and the second was set to begin. Fluffed volleys and extravagant fist-pumping would henceforth define the evening, which somehow had hours to go.

This is not to say that Berdych lacked fight, or that Nadal’s celebrations were not merited (although I did note several cries of  ‘Vamos!’ on utterly unforced Czech errors). It also isn’t to say that Nadal would have lost from two sets down – I suspect he might still have won – but securing that second set certainly freed something within the world No.2. He began to cut loose on his forehand, with an abandon hardly glimpsed in years. Instead of gradually working Berdych over via long chains of crosscourt blows, pushing him back and across until he was put away, Nadal began to launch ferocious one-two combinations. By the fourth set he was crushing return winners at will, and expertly matching each with a tailored fist-pump, a sommelier of celebration.

The crowd’s delight was immediate and unstinting. Whereas Berdych arrived on court to lusty booing, and hastily adapted pop-medleys from the Berdych Army, Nadal emerged to a bellowing swell of adulation. While the boos were manufactured, the affection aimed at the Spaniard felt real enough. The way it cascaded upward through the stands in ramified swells testified to that. When he claimed the point of the match – a 29 stroke masterpiece of thrust, parry, probe and flutter – the eruption was immense. As with many such points, it ended with Berdych stranded at the net, forlorn amongst the wreckage of volleys not dealt with.

It was symptomatic of a match in with Berdych could create but not complete. His groundstrokes, especially through the early going, were vicious and penetrating, until he achieved the short ball, or the cherished net-position. He made plenty, but he missed too many, especially on break points. He ended on 2/13. There’s such a thing as a killer instinct, and his opponent has it, although I suppose Almagro did, too.

Perhaps ironically, there was a point in which Berdych would have won the rally had he only targeted Nadal at the net. Alas, Asimov’s first law of robotics forbids him from deliberately causing harm to a human – although it has little to say about acting pissy about it afterwards – and he attempted a regulation pass, which he missed. Speculation abounded prior to the match whether Nadal would ‘do it for Nico’, following two days stewing in patriotic juices. Certainly Nadal seemed more pumped up than usual for a quarterfinal, but who is to say why. He generally doesn’t need a reason, and tonight’s match was conducted in fine spirits, capped by a handshake rich with mutual respect. After four hours on court, both men deserved it, and the crowd, commendably, no longer felt obligated to revile the Czech.

A year ago, I watched Berdych fold meekly to Novak Djokovic at the same stage on the same court. Then he’d been recovering from a horrendous end to 2010. He saw out 2011 in far better trim, pushing to the semifinals of the Tour Finals, and then having his hard drive defragged. His loss this time around was altogether more accomplished, and honourable. If the players ranked above him were not so fine, I would predict big things for him in the coming season. Let’s just say he’s a worthy world No.7, and that right now that is no small thing. As for Nadal, his strong finish was tremendously encouraging, and suggested that he has finally played himself into something like top form. He may well need it. For the first time in seven years, he will face Roger Federer in the semifinals of a major.

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January 24, 2012

Gravitational Forces

Australian Open, Quarterfinals (Day Nine)

(3) Federer d. (11) del Potro, 6/4 6/3 6/2

As I made my way in to Rod Laver Arena tonight, where Rafael Nadal aimed to become the first Spaniard to defeat Tomas Berdych ten times in a row – a match widely expected to be close -  I noted a forlorn figure hunched on a bench. Draped in a pale blue and white striped flag, I quickly surmised that the figure was Argentinean, or else engaged in an elaborate hoax. I also surmised that it was a young lady, wracked by heaving sobs, and quite beautiful, despite her extravagant sunburn. Granting her the breadth of her patriotism, I conceded that she probably was Argentinean, and that her grief was therefore pursuant to the hiding her countryman Juan Martin del Potro had just copped at the hands of Roger Federer.

I’m quite partial to Federer myself, the way most of us probably are deep down, and so I had rather enjoyed the match. I could say that in my pleasure I had overlooked how the fans of the other guy must feel, a failure of empathy. Honestly, though, it had hardly occurred to me that del Potro might boast fans who felt his losses so severely, which is borderline solipsism on my part. Given that gorgeous sobbing women exert a gravitational force roughly equal to a collapsing star, I was tempted to go over and offer some consolation, at least a pat on a sun-pinked shoulder. Of course I didn’t, telling myself I didn’t want to hurt her peelings. I left her alone on the bench, while somewhere below her feet her hero was already explaining himself to the media.

Her disappointment, and presumably del Potro’s, certainly stemmed from the collective belief that today’s quarterfinal with Federer would be a much tighter affair than it was. The giant Argentine, his perpetual two-day growth bristling, was widely expected to push the great Swiss hard. Their last match at grand slam level had been the fateful US Open final of 2009, when del Potro became the only man other than Nadal to defeat Federer in a major final, an accolade he retains. The stage was set, the table laid, the superlatives loaded, the heat was savage, and the breeze was a light southerly. Unusually for Melbourne, it brought no relief.

Federer emerged on to court, introduced with special emphasis by the inimitable Craig Willis, a study in resolve. It was his 1,000th match. He immediately moved to a 3/0 lead, his winner count edging towards double figures, as yet untroubled by errors. Del Potro was serving at 75%, but there were no free points. Gradually he found his way, however, and after breaking Federer, levelled at 4/4. Federer was moving his opponent at every opportunity, deposits in the exhaustion bank, to be collected later if it came to it. It was that kind of day, and fitness would mean everything. Then at 5/4, Federer accelerated, Sampras-like, and tore the set away in a hail of forehand winners.

From there, the backhand took over, but mostly because that was the side del Potro opted to target. It proved about as effective as Bernard Tomic’s cherished belief that keeping the ball low to that wing would entirely nullify it. I suspect that there is nothing Federer fans enjoy more than seeing their idol’s backhand deliberately pressed, and for him to then beat the other player into submission with it. Federer himself probably enjoys it, too. Unless you’re Nadal on clay, attacking his backhand merely provokes it. It was entirely fitting that he finally took the match with one last backhand winner up the line past a stranded and wearied opponent, by now immobile as a tower.

I could say that Federer put on a clinic today, but aside from being a cliché, it is also wrong, since visits to clinics aren’t this fun. There is tremendous joy to be had in watching the world No.3 in this form, expertly dismantling a classy and powerful oppon­ent, melding his own power and guile into the most lethal combination the sport has known. Indeed, there is clearly plenty of joy in being in this form, judging by how close to a giggling fit Federer came in the on-court interview afterwards. And it’s definitely for the best that I didn’t console that weeping del Potro fan this evening, since this is probably the kind of stuff I would have said, and it really wouldn’t have helped.

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January 23, 2012

Resistance is Useful

Australian Open, Fourth Round (Day Eight)

(1) Djokovic d. Hewitt, 6/1 6/3 4/6 6/3

Channel 7 has hopefully learned its lesson. Whereas yesterday’s promos blithely contended that Tomic would take it to Federer, today’s were more circumspect, not to say understated: ‘Lleyton Hewitt gears up for another massive challenge!’ Yesterday they asked their viewers whether Tomic could actually win, with predictably absurd results. Today they wanted to know what Hewitt must do in order to win, to ‘pull out the big one’. Shockingly, no one came up with much. Once the match began, and Novak Djokovic gambolled through the opening set, it became clear even to the viewers that it really didn’t matter what Hewitt did. The world No.1 proved some time ago that resistance is useless.

He proved it again in the second set, even though the resistance was stiffer, and the score closer. The third set moved to 3/0 to the Serbian, but it already felt over. Pre-composed eulogies were adjusted, and padded with commiserations that it had to end with a bagel. But then the seagulls arrived –  which sounds like a euphemism, but isn’t – and the spell, somehow, was shattered. Courtside colour-commentators scurried for cover. Brad Gilbert wore bird-shit, and Todd Woodbridge only narrowly eluded a similar fate. Somehow, en route to a blowout, Hewitt held, then broke, then held again. The numbers had barely changed – perhaps Djokovic was striking fewer winners – but Hewitt was marshalling everything he had, as ever making much of little: a patchy serve, and fumes and a loathing of defeat. At 4/4, Djokovic grew tight on serve, and Hewitt, desperate and everywhere, gutsed the break. He gradually served out the set, saving a break-back point with an icy drop shot, and weathering a return barrage from Djokovic. As he claimed the set, the Australian turned to his box and raised his fist, his eyes sheened. If he was to go out, this was how it was meant to be, taking the battle to the world’s best player. The fanatics went bananas, but then all of Rod Laver Arena did. Out in Garden Square they were capering. Resistance, it transpired, always has its uses.

The fourth set began evenly, but there was only one outcome. Djokovic was lifting, inexorably. Melbourne Park has been beset by communications issues for days, which perhaps explains with Channel 7 didn’t get the memo. They put the possibility of a Hewitt comeback to the viewers. Predictably, the viewers believed he could do it. Predictably, they were wrong. But they believe, like Channel 7 believes, because it must. It will never learn its lesson.

Now that it has finally concluded, I am compelled to say the story of the first week has been the gallant Australians, and not only because the penalty for not doing so is immediate deportation. Some blame can be laid at the mangled feet of the players themselves. Having two home-grown men push through to the fourth round of the home slam was always going to resonate with the natives, and therefore with the presiding broadcaster.

Channel 7’s current ascendancy in the Australian market can be traced back directly to Hewitt’s run to the Australian Open final in 2005, which was aired fleetingly in between relentless promos for Lost and Desperate Housewives. The night he lost the final to Marat Safin – still the highest rating program in Australian history – Hewitt assuaged his disappointment by proposing to his Channel 7 soap opera girlfriend. Now that he has lost to Novak Djokovic, he will be joining their commentary team for the tournament’s remainder. Have a player and a television network ever been so tightly entwined?

Having Hewitt and Tomic scrap their way to the fourth round has therefore proved a godsend for the Channel 7, who know better than anyone just how quickly ratings trail off once the local talent flies the coop. If you can’t watch Federer or Nadal – who remain the biggest draws everywhere – then watching strangers who by sheer coincidence were born in the same country as you is apparently the next best thing. Network executives still break into a cold sweat at the recollection of the 2002 Open, when the big names and the locals fell early. Thank god Safin unleashed his ‘blondtourage’ that year. By any measure, tonight’s match was therefore gold.

To be fair, Hewitt and Tomic have provided adequate entertainment in their own right, and it’s hard to begrudge anyone their excitement, since I’ve hardly been above revelling in it myself. Just two days ago, Hewitt resurrected a strikingly dull day of tennis by defeating Milos Raonic in four stern sets, while Tomic’s recovery from two sets down against Fernando Verdasco was a fitting centrepiece for the first day.

For someone who follows the majors closely – and I do, though I ration myself to only four per year – I am generally amazed at how quickly and cruelly the draw pares down. In just a week, the tournament has shed all but eight of its original 128 entrants. Even General Haig didn’t achieve that kind of attrition at the Somme, although, unlike in that fateful battle, Gallic losses have been particularly horrendous. Of the 15 Frenchman who commenced last week, none now remain, although it is regrettable that their putatively best players – Monfils, Tsonga, Simon – fell with perfunctory ease. Kei Nishikori has become the first Japanese man to reach the Australian Open quarterfinals in 80 years. Frederico Gil became the first Portuguese man to reach the third round at any major, ever.

David Nalbandian famously exited in a haze of cock-ups and hammy bafflement. Baghdatis, more famously, flipped out and threw a fit that was disturbing not only in its cold intensity, but in its thoroughness. It’s gone viral, and he’s become a verb: ‘to Baghdatis’, for when you just have to smash every-fucking-thing. Wearied, Isner fell to Lopez, who fought bravely, until he met Nadal, when he fought barely. Llodra and Murray proved that tennis can still be fun, offering a match that was so entertaining even Murray enjoyed it. Roddick lost his hamstring, Kukushkin lost his hip, and Tipsarevic lost his head. Kohlschreiber, as ever, played well until he didn’t. Gasquet is just a pretty backhand.

Ivo Karlovic pushed Federer to a miraculous first set tiebreak, but no further. Harrison’s first set against Murray and Hewitt’s tonight remain the only sets the big four have collectively lost. Tommy Haas hit upon the winning tactic against Rafael Nadal – variety without relent to the Spaniard’s backhand – although it turned out not to be quite winning enough. Before tonight, Djokovic dropped 10 games in three matches. These four guys are so often the story of the second week – the week everyone will remember – so it is entirely appropriate that they have barely featured in the first.

No, the first week has largely belonged to everyone else, even if they’re now mostly on their way home. But most of all, it has belonged to the two who’ve finally lost, but are already home.

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January 22, 2012

A Species of Insanity

Australian Open, Fourth Round (Day Seven)

(3) Federer d. Tomic, 6/4 6/2 6/2

Channel 7 in Australia tonight asked its viewers whether Bernard Tomic could ‘pull off the upset’ against Roger Federer. Sadly, thanks to the miracle of social media, the question was not merely rhetorical. Viewers were invited to respond, whereupon Channel 7 usefully collated the responses into a single number and relayed it back to us. It turned out that 69% of us believed Tomic would prevail; further proof, if more were necessary, that patriotism is a species of insanity.

To say that Tomic had no real chance at winning isn’t to say that he played badly. He didn’t. In fact he played very well. That is how he won eight games, although Federer’s lackadaisical serving and intermittent application played its part. The gap between the top four and the rest of the field is wide already, but in the case of Tomic, who relies so much upon out-thinking and bamboozling his opponents, the gap can seem like a chasm. The top four are rarely confounded by strange play – although Murray is sometimes troubled by his own – and they all move so well and understand the court so instinctively that mere sophistication is dealt with savagely. It is to his credit that Tomic understands this, and his approach to tonight’s encounter was radically unlike his others this week. He’d known both Verdasco and Querrey could be outfoxed, so he duly outfoxed them. He’d known he couldn’t outhit Dolgopolov, so he didn’t try to.

Tomic knew he couldn’t outhit Federer, either, but it was the best shot he had. It’s hard to know precisely when this became clear to him, but I assume he received some useful advice after his last press conference, in which he’d been brimming with blithe candour. There was ample discussoin of how educational his previous encounter with Federer had been, and that he now knew where and how Federer could or could not hurt him. He was expansive on his tactics, which apparently relied heavily on keeping the ball low to Federer’s backhand. At some point in the following two days, someone hopefully suggested that the lessons learned facing a jet-lagged, US Open-scarred Federer on a dodgy Sydney grasscourt were not strictly applicable to a rested, hungry Federer on a grand slam hard court, and that advertising your strategy ahead of time isn’t wise.

On this surface, and in this form, Federer was never going to allow Tomic adequate space and time in which to operate. Consequently the only long rallies were tightrope affairs, a few of which saw Tomic rock Federer back on his heels, even outslugging him in forehand duels. But this was not the majority of rallies, which mostly went to Federer. Especially as the match wore on, the world No.3 sought to expose the young Australian’s poor movement, mercilessly exploiting the drop shot and the backhand up the line. Tomic first began to guess, and then to guess wrong. After one Federer drop shot, Tomic turned to his box and mouthed ‘Wow’, later admitting that ‘I don’t know how he does it in that situation’. He confessed that he’d even enjoyed watching Federer hit his best shots back for winners. I wonder if he appreciated that so many were struck from the backhand, given how allegedly ‘simple’ nullifying it is.

It must be borne in mind that while tonight will mean everything for Tomic, for Federer it was just another fourth round. He has now won 31 of these consecutively at grand slam level, and they were a pretty big deal for all 31 of his opponents at the time. The miasma of hype that surrounded tonight’s encounter – so cloying for viewers, and crippling for Tomic – will be brushed off easily by the great Swiss, who eight years ago became exempt from Sampras’ adage that you can lose a major in the first week. He will be looking ahead, to the quarterfinals, and a match with Juan Martin del Potro. Channel 7’s viewers, if asked, would doubtless insist that Federer is a shoe-in. Seasoned onlookers know better. The matches that he can lose are about to begin.

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January 22, 2012

A Question of Experience

Australian Open, Third Round (Day Six)

Hewitt d. (23) Raonic, 4/6 6/3 7/6 7/3

There are moments when Jim Courier’s urge to turn a phrase trumps his faltering inspiration, and leads him inexorably into verbiage, if not downright garbiage. “Hello, Mr Momentum. Welcome to Lleyton Street!” he intoned during last night’s match, an utterance so transcendentally naff that it saw him briefly trend on Twitter. Channel 7 viewers will put up with a lot – even the execrable promos for upcoming shows are now broadly tolerated – but it turns out there are limits. I hasten to add that Courier for the most part performs his task adequately if not admirably, and that he was otherwise correct: momentum had swung Hewitt’s way.

It certainly needed to. Raonic – who may or may not live on Milos Street – had already spent a set justifying the constant comparisons to Pete Sampras. The serve was unassailable, and the forehand compelling. Mostly it compelled Hewitt to run. Coupled with effortless power – even on the backhand – a comparison to Marat Safin seemed equally as appropriate. Luckily for Hewitt, he has spent a long career facing those guys, and more or less knew what to do. It became a question of experience, which the Australian has in spades.

As the match unfolded, and Hewitt welcomed Mr Momentum into his home as a prelude to drugging him and chaining him up in the basement, the increasing impotency of Raonic’s first serve became obvious. He was landing barely half of them, and winning fewer of the resulting points than he would have hoped to. Courier was also asked how much credit Hewitt could take for this, to which the American quickly responded ‘all of it’. He then said it again, at some length, lest we at home had somehow misunderstood. But was he correct? I suspect Raonic’s substandard serving owed at least as much to conditions and context, which includes his opponent but certainly isn’t limited to him.

The key environmental issue for a serve such as Raonic’s is not the pace of the court – and Rod Laver Arena’s is about medium in the scheme of things – but the speed of the balls and air. The Plexicushion surface at Melbourne Park has a rough, grippy top layer – it’s quite abrasive to the touch – which results in it taking a lot of spin, and in the balls fluffing up very quickly. As the balls reach the end of their life cycle (nine games), they grow perceptibly slower, an effect that is further exaggerated in an inexperienced player’s mind. Ball changes generally produce a marked acceleration in play. Abetting this effect, the air at night is slower (through being cooler), although it was not humid.

With all of that being said, these various forces when combined actually result in only a marginal impact on a serve such as Raonic’s. It slows down a little, but coupled with his height and spin it remains fearsome, and more than capable of performing its assigned task, which is that of a sustained artillery salvo. More telling is the psychological effect of playing in these conditions, particularly for an inexperienced guy with plenty on his mind. This was his first match on a centre court at a Major, played in prime time against the local favourite. Hewitt is also a crafty veteran, doing all he could to exploit any weakness he could discover in Raonic’s game.  The Australian was especially sturdy when returning Raonic’s second serve, and was even winning his share of points when the first serve landed (almost a quarter of them).

Under sufficient pressure, minor issues are magnified. To Raonic, blinking in prime-time lights, it would have felt like he was fighting the medium itself, like running into a headwind. The upshot was that he began to over-hit his first serve, and miss. This explains how even in ‘slower’ conditions he posted the fastest serves yet seen in the tournament – topping out at 228km/h – but only served at 53%. Last year he averaged 65% on hard courts across the entire season. Like I said, context matters, too. Adrenaline surely played its part, and the evolving desperation wrought by falling inexorably behind to a proven champion. Too much of this detail is glossed over when pundits suggest that a player just plays badly, as though form is a question of personal preference, or occurs in a vacuum.

Asked in the on-court interview whether he had anticipated reaching the second week at the Australian Open, Hewitt replied that he hadn’t been sure his body would last through one match, and that so far he hadn’t looked beyond any of his opponents. Courier astutely observed that he certainly wouldn’t be looking past his next one, who is Novak Djokovic. Meanwhile Bernard Tomic tonight plays Roger Federer. The Australians may have detained Mr Momentum for a time, but I suspect Mr Reality is about to pay a visit.

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January 21, 2012

What Price Quality?

Australian Open, Third Round (Day Six)

(1) Djokovic d. Mahut, 6/0 6/1 6/1

There was plenty of great tennis on Rod Laver Arena today, but only ever from one end of the court, although that end alternated every two games. Play commenced at 11am, and had wrapped by 3.30pm. A nosebleed ticket to today’s day session cost $127.50, and provided a total of four and half hours of ‘entertainment’, but only if one includes watching the players hitting up, and killing time between matches. Actual play time totalled considerably less than that, at a touch under 200 minutes.  That works out to about $38 per hour, a steep price to pay for some of the least competitive tennis in grand slam history. Across today’s three matches – two of which were women’s – the victorious players dropped a total of five games. Is a refund out of the question?

The lone men’s match was between Nicolas Mahut and Novak Djokovic, who last year attained a taste for WTA-like scores. The world No.1 had a realistic shot at inflicting the first triple-bagel in the tournament’s history, which would have provided the match with a second talking point, besides that fact that it was Mahut’s 30th birthday. With so little transpiring on court, the commentators were obliged to amuse themselves, with typically disturbing results.

While it is true that Mahut was injured – another useful talking-point – realistically this had zero bearing on the outcome. A healthy Frenchman might have claimed a few more games, but to actually take a set he would need to clone himself (though only once). To actually win he’d need to recreate the ‘burly brawl’ scene from Matrix Reloaded. Djokovic looked frightening, but he had no reason not to.

It raises a pertinent question: all else being equal, would the crowd prefer good tennis, or a good match? Presumably they’d take both, but through the first week on Rod Laver Arena that has rarely been a possibility. The close matches have mostly involved locals, while the big names have not dropped a set. The more I think on it, the more I suspect the question itself is flawed. The choice in the first week – especially in the day sessions – has not been between good tennis and good matches, but between good matches and famous names. Thus we endured Djokovic and Mahut, while Andy Murray and Michael Llodra – surely a more interesting match-up – are relegated to Hisense. But would the sell-out crowd in RLA have preferred it the other way around?

(17) Gasquet d. (9) Tipsarevic, 6/3 6/3 6/1

As ever in the first week, the smart ticket today appeared to be the general admission ground pass, coupled with the wherewithal to ensconce oneself early in Margaret Court Arena. Perusing the litany of horrendous mismatches that passes for the daily schedule, only a couple of matches actually stood out, and chief among these was Janko Tipsarevic and Richard Gasquet on MCA.

Alas, it turned out to be another blowout, sadly in keeping with the day’s theme. Todd Woodbridge, commentating, had it right when he pointed out that for all Gasquet’s backhand is his money shot, it’s the forehand that tells the tale. When it’s on, he’s close to unbeatable. Today it was on, and contributed its share to his 33 winners (with just eight unforced errors, and an 85% return on net forays). These heroic numbers dovetailed nicely with Tipsarevic’s, which were appalling, although he did achieve a 100% return on breakpoint conversion: one from one. The third set was little short of an outright tank by the Serbian, who was reduced to wild and petulant slashing by the last game. Given his history, I suppose he is to be commended for seeing out that final game at all.

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January 20, 2012

Slaying the Dragon

Australian Open, Third Round (Day Five)

(3) Federer d. Karlovic, 7/6 7/5 6/3

There is a pervasive tendency – entirely inexcusable – for commentators calling Ivo Karlovic’s matches to treat him like a kind of mythical beast the hero must overcome in order to fulfil their quest. Inevitably, there is ample discussion of how players must make the most of their few chances, and of strategies to combat his serve. It’s rather like listening to Warcraft players thrash out tactics for taking down a particularly tough dragon. At least early on today, there was no comparable analysis of what Karlovic needed to do in order to see off Roger Federer, since Karlovic apparently isn’t a hero on a quest of his own. Offsetting this generally dehumanising tendency, it proved to be a kindness when Jim Courier brought up Karlovic’s popularity on Twitter.

Service holds were already ticking away with metronomic fluency through the early part of today’s match when Courier essayed the fairly uncontroversial point that Federer would not bother coming over his backhand returns today. It was a disposable comment, and would have worked adequately as a brief aside, but Courier characteristically lavished considerable airtime on exploring it fully. His point, apparent to everyone even before he dissected it, was that Karlovic’s freakish delivery presents difficulties for one-handed backhands.

Until 6-6 in the first set tiebreak, Courier’s analysis not only had the virtue of being obvious, it also seemed right. Following an excellent point to save set point – which I will return to – Federer suddenly stepped in and ripped a backhand return winner off Karlovic’s first serve, setting up a set point of his own, which he duly converted. When brilliance so succinctly defies common wisdom, it is easy to call it genius. There were a number of red and white banners fluttering around Rod Laver Arena telling us exactly that, and that we need to be quiet while Federer works.

But this wasn’t the point of the match. The prior point was. Karlovic had played a strong tiebreak, and earned his set point by outplaying a tentative Federer from the baseline, which Hawkeye proved is Federer’s preferred line. At 5-6, Federer chipped his return low, and then drilled his follow-up passing shot straight at Karlovic’s hip. Given the Croat’s wingspan, the efficacy of the tactic should have been unquestionable, but he was volleying well, and had so far fended balls from his body expertly. He reflexed back a drop-volley, and moved in. Federer dashed to the forecourt, and, noting Karlovic edging in, flicked an audacious lob. Karlovic leapt, but could only frame it. An inch lower, and the Croat would have had the set. The margins at this level are almost nothing, and it is astonishing how effectively the best players manoeuvre within them.

Federer only broke serve twice in the match, once in each of the remaining sets, but it was enough to achieve a straight sets win. The first break clinched the second set, courtesy of an outrageous blocked backhand return on the full stretch. He faced two break points of his own, which is turns out is more than Karlovic’s average in their encounters. They have now played eleven times in eight years, and Karlovic has earned just 17 break points, and converted one of them. He should know by now that you only get limited chances on the Federer serve, and that you simply must make the most of them.

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