January 9, 2012

Acts of Heroism, Acts of Mercy

Chennai, Final

(3) Raonic d. (1) Tipsarevic, 6/7 7/6 7/6

Chennai was won by Milos Raonic, who overcame a couple of transient top-tenners in the final two rounds. In neither the semifinal against Nicolas Almagro nor in the final against Janko Tipsarevic did the Canadian drop serve. To be fair, he didn’t manage to break serve in the final, either, although one should not therefore assume that the encounter had the contour or flavour of an Ivo Karlovic production. Raonic created plenty of chances, and Tipsarevic fought with the determination and skill we should expect from the world No.9. It was a gripping final, and a deserved finale for a tournament invariably overshadowed by its peers in Doha, Brisbane and Perth.

Tipsarevic has now fallen to 2-6 in ATP finals, but for first the time we can safely assert that there was no shame in losing. He performed mightily in merely making it close, but when a guy like Raonic serves at 73%, and unleashes almost nine entire games worth of aces (35 in total), there’s only so much you can do. That kind of security on serve encourages a guy to cut sick on his return games – dans la manière de Sampras – and Raonic did not hold back, lashing lustily at any forehand he could lay a racquet on. Fearing that the tournament had not yet received its moneys-worth, Tipsarevic then retaped his feet and won the doubles event. Raonic was already bound for Melbourne. Both retaping and plane-boarding were dutifully relayed via Twitter, providing further comfort to anyone worried the medium wasn’t ideally suited to the utterly mundane. The most interesting thing a tennis player can do is play tennis, and it remains a large mercy that they haven’t yet found a way to tweet while doing so.

Brisbane, Final

(1) Murray d. (3) Dolgopolov, 6/1 6/3

When they do achieve this synergy, Alexandr Dolgopolov will perhaps be among the first to exploit it. Thankfully he waited until he’d left Pat Rafter Arena before firing up his mobile phone, although he subsequently only reiterated what he’d already told the crowd, which is that he was sorry for playing such a ‘boring’ match, but that he’d been protecting his leg and had only taken to the court to satisfy a packed house. Put that way, his abject loss was actually heroic, an act of consummate martyrdom.

Andy Murray, whose victory was merely routine, waxed studious in praising his new coach (‘Mr Lendl’), and hit all his marks in singing the praises of all interested parties. Given that top tennis players no longer proffer anything truly controversial, the main interest now lies in confirming whether they’ve said all the right things in the right way and with precisely the right emphasis. Alas, Murray was impeccable. The pitchforks remained sheathed. (Yes, that’s right, they make sheaths for pitchforks now, and I totally didn’t mix metaphors.)

Doha, Final

(3) Tsonga d. (4) Monfils, 7/5 6/3

The Doha final was arguably the most atmospheric of the weekend, although this owed less to the crowd or the play, and more to the rolling fog that several times disrupted play. I don’t think I’ve seen that before. Otherwise the match played out as you’d expect it might, given that Jo-Wilfried Tsonga is overall a superior player to Gael Monfils, especially in finals. Monfils moves to a ghastly 4-12 in deciding matches. Amassing a record like that requires a special variety of consistency. Today he took ample care to ensure the aggressive virtuosity with which he’d dismantled Viktor Troicki and Rafael Nadal was nowhere in evidence. It probably didn’t (or did) help that his elaborate preparation for the final consisted of retweeting pretty much any bozo that asked him to, for no discernible benefit at all.

Tsonga, once he’d endured a characteristically sluggish start, looked exactly like the second most in-form player of the past three months, which what he has been. It naturally didn’t hurt that the most in-form player withdrew in the semifinals. But other than a strange loss to Sam Querrey in Valencia back in October, Tsonga hasn’t fallen to anyone besides Roger Federer since Shanghai, and has proved that in some cases the vanishingly brief off-season can prove helpful, by not rupturing momentum. He will be dangerous in Melbourne, where he has already enjoyed definitive success. His odds – currently a generous 16-1 – may well shorten considerably over the coming week. Whatever they land on, no top player will fancy Tsonga in their quarter.

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January 8, 2012

Miniature Disco Balls

Hopman Cup, 2012

As a high-profile exhibition tournament conducted a fortnight before the season’s first major, the Hopman Cup juggles the luxury of an invitational draw with the limitations imposed by the high number of alternative, officially-sanctioned events running in the same week. They can have any player they want, but the pickings might be slim. Coupled with the nation-based mixed team format, these factors invariably result in a broad cross-section of players, reflecting diverse rankings and abilities. The desire to have, say, Li Na in attendance carries with it the reality that China has no male player of comparable stature. Consequently, a worldwide audience has been introduced to Wu Di, ranked No.421, as have his loftily-ranked opponents. The Danish contingent was similarly comprised: what tournament is going to turn down Caroline Wozniacki, even if she arrives packaged with the obscure and likeable Frederik Nielsen (ranked No.236)?

To the Hopman Cup’s credit, it never tries to downplay the ‘lesser’ players. Even in very strong years – both Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic turned up in 2011 – the event devotes considerable energy and airtime to showcasing both upcomers and perennial journeymen. Occasionally the former category yields gold, as in 2001 when the great Martina Hingis was paired with a largely unknown 19-year-old called Roger Federer. Paradorn Srichaphan’s introduction proved similarly auspicious, as did Jelena Dokic’s, among others. This year’s ‘find’ – at least far as the broader public is concerned – was Grigor Dimitrov. Naturally, anyone reading a tennis site is probably familiar with Dimitrov already, but the Hopman Cup is nothing if not broadly popular. (The frequent crowd shots suggest that most of those in attendance suggest the event is a popular stop along the grey nomad migratory routes. It is doubtful whether many of them knew much about Bulgaria’s greatest male player a week ago. I suspect many could not locate the place on a map.) Furthermore, it has given the public the chance to see Dimitrov ply his trade against several top-ten players. It has proved to be an ideal opportunity for everyone to grow cheerfully acquainted.

Dimitrov plied admirably against Tomas Berdych, whom he had actually beaten in their only previous meeting, and then more scratchily in overcoming Nielson. It was against Mardy Fish that he truly excelled, punishing the world No.8 6/2 6/1 in under an hour. For the wrong reasons, this is the match that is fated to endure, mostly due to Fish’s boorish outbursts. Aside from the protagonists themselves, no one knows exactly what was said between Fish and Dimitrov after their singles match, or during the subsequent mixed doubles tie. Both men have since maintained a raffish coyness under delicate questioning. Neil Harman put it to Fish via Twitter, but was rebuffed offhandedly. Fish is now crooning from the ATP Media Relations Songbook, insisting that Dimitrov is a great talent and has a bright future, artlessly glossing the fact that he’d looked eager to abbreviate that future just hours earlier. Pat Cash, who’d commentated on the match, later offered his opinion that Fish’s tirade owed mostly to sour grapes at losing so badly. Matt Cronin then upbraided Cash on Twitter, demanding why the Australian felt the need to comment at all, given he hadn’t heard precisely what was said. In other words, the teacup can no longer contain the tempest it spawned.

Regarding the last point, I would ask why Cash shouldn’t offer his opinion. Indeed, given his history of, and reputation for, effortless controversy, who really expected him not to? As a former great, it’s not as though he harbours any concern at upsetting Fish. And nor, by Cash’s lofty standards, did he essay anything especially contentious. Does anyone realistically believe Fish would have acted the way he did had he been winning two and one? All it has really done is overshadow Dimitrov’s performance, which was almost flawless. A capricious god would have them meet in the first round of the Australian Open.

Positive, aggressive and the reigning Wimbledon champion, Petra Kvitova is surely the No.1 the WTA craves. In any case, assuming she maintains her current form in Melbourne, she is almost certainly the one it is going to get. She coasts a bare hundred points adrift of Wozniacki at No.2. Thus her pairing with Tomas Berdych this week saw them first awarded the top seeding, then subsequently the title. In between they beat everyone, including a reasonable French team in the final. Berdych and Gasquet fought out a skilful and entertaining first set, until the tiebreaker, at which point Berdych interleaved unreturnable serving with unservable returning. Gasquet alternated frustration and resignation, and couldn’t manage a point. The Czech moved ahead in the second set, blasting to 5/1, until Gasquet suddenly ascended to that rarefied locale he fleetingly visits, in which he cannot miss the court no matter how hard he swings. He fought back to 5/4, before Berdych closed it out. Both men should take much from the encounter, though only one of them will take a weird trophy home. Speaking of which, it turns out a diamond-encrusted tennis ball sounds classy in theory, but in practice looks much like a miniature disco ball. Still, the Czechs seemed pleased enough, doubtless envisaging many happy hours constructing tiny Saturday Night Fever dioramas. Or perhaps I’m projecting.

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January 6, 2012

Bold Predictions

Brisbane, Quarterfinals

(1) Murray d. Baghdatis, 6/2 6/2

(8) Tomic d. Istomin, 6/3 7/6

About five years ago, in the grip of that special insanity called adolescence, a fourteen-year-old Bernard Tomic predicted with unabashed solemnity that he would claim the calendar Grand Slam and the top ranking by the age of eighteen. Forgive him: he was young, and who among us did not make boasts as deluded in their youth? The difference was that Tomic has been hyped extravagantly in his home country since an early age, in recent times surpassed only by Richard Gasquet. Whereas our foolish comments are made to friends, and thus stop there, Tomic made his to the largest newspaper in Australia. Consequently, they’ve stuck. As with countless unrealised doomsdays, his eighteenth birthday came and went, and keen onlookers were intrigued to discover that he had won no Slams, and that his ranking was somewhere below 200. The earth has completed its orbit once since then, with the miraculous result that Tomic is a year older. He still has no majors – it turns out they’re quite elusive – but his ranking has soared to No.42. (Some will know this as the answer to the question of life, the universe and everything. Others won’t, which is their loss.) He is rising fast.

Being older, and apparently more mature, Tomic has since distanced himself from those earlier predictions. Today during their Brisbane coverage, Channel 7 featured him in one of those lethally inconsequential fluff pieces they air between matches so that the presenters can have their frightening smiles re-affixed.  It showed Tomic toiling hard in the gym, encouragingly focussing on exactly the things he should be focussing on: explosive movement and fast-twitch response. Also encouragingly, he conceded that it is only a matter of time until his peers figure out his strange game, and that he is constantly adding new elements in anticipation of this. He went on to praise the top three. He then revealed that he intends on breaking into the top ten this year, and on winning his first major. Happy, his newfound maturity saw him admit that he might not actually win a major in 2011, and that he is willing to wait until next year. In other words, Tomic’s expectations have grown markedly less crazy, but that doesn’t mean they’re now realistic. Admitting that he was unlikely to surpass Federer’s haul of 16 majors, he graciously confessed that he be happy with ‘only three or four’. This will presumably come as a relief to the rest of the tour.

Today Tomic overcame Uzbekistan’s Denis Istomin in straight sets, which to my knowledge has never been regarded as a key indicator of Slam-worthiness. Now that tennis has returned to Channel 7, the local broadcaster has resumed its practice of placing a tiny Australian flag next to the local players’ names, in the probably justified hope that this will make them more likeable. The other players don’t get a little flag, since all foreign countries are apparently more or less alike. To ram this home, the camera kept focussing on Alexandr Dolgopolov watching from the stands. John Fitzgerald suggested that Dolgopolov was there because ‘they hail from the same part of the world’, notwithstanding that Ukraine and Uzbekistan do not share a border. (The idea that the pair might be friends was not aired. Are foreigners even capable of friendship?)

Anyway, Tomic will face Andy Murray in the semifinals, a man who has forgotten more about being overdue to win a major than even Tomic might ever learn. Murray was frighteningly complete in overcoming Marcos Baghdatis. He hadn’t been this complete when he snuck past Baghdatis back in Tokyo, but he had been in destroying Nadal in the final of that event. Today looked like that. He won the first point with a backhand struck with so much force that Baghdatis didn’t even move to it, despite the ball nearly hitting him in the leg. Wondrously, the Scot’s forehand was even better.

For all that form in the lead-up tournaments means little for most majors – and even less at the Australian Open – it was the kind of performance that will compel the other top players to take note. If they don’t, they are bound to be reminded of it upon arriving in Melbourne, and hourly after that. Cast your mind back to 2009, when Murray cleaned up in Doha, and was immediately installed as the favourite ahead of Djokovic (defending champion), Nadal (world No.1), and Federer (Roger Federer). In any case, preparing for the Australian Open has not been Murray’s problem of late. Ending it has.

Regardless, expect an entertaining match against Tomic tomorrow, in which the Australian will likely discover that some players have figured out his game much quicker than others.

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January 5, 2012

Good Clean Fun

‘Watch Australia’s Lleyton Hewitt take on China’s finest, tonight at the Hopman Cup!’ implored my television, via a promo pregnant with subtext. The subtext read that Hewitt is no longer Australia’s finest, and that China’s finest – Wu Di – is ranked 421, and that the tournament’s field is pretty weak this year.

The Hopman Cup is a strange affair, one that excels in spite of its format, although it is helped by its scheduling. As an actual tournament, it is almost entirely pointless. (Even after a decade of watching, I only ever know who the qualifying finalists are when the commentators tell me. Apparently France has now qualified.) I am not convinced the participants have much riding on the outcome either way. They’re here for match play in singles, and tend to treat even live mixed doubles rubbers with a practiced and professional levity. Each tie thus devolves from semi-seriousness into semi-‘entertainment’. No opportunity is missed to ask the players how many times they’ve played mixed doubles before. We at home are then invited to gasp and titter when they answer ‘never’. Believe me, this never ever gets old. It’s something to ruminate on as we then watch totally inexperienced mixed doubles players play mixed doubles.

So far this week, across all four tournaments presently underway, the strongest impression has been of rust. It is ever thus in the first week of the year, notwithstanding the lamented brevity of the off-season (otherwise known as ‘December’). The Hopman Cup celebrates this rustiness, and gussies it up with an insistently charming informality. So if it’s meaningless, it is at least engagingly so, and if the standard is invariably deflated, at least it’s all in good fun.

Some stray observations from the week so far:

  • The adidas and Yonex kits are vastly improved from last year.
  • Grigor Dimitrov has gained muscle, confidence, a deeper scowl and greater weight on his first serve. His movement has improved, but his backhand remains weak until he attempts a winner, and thereafter becomes erratic. His passing shots are also inadequate, as is his return of serve.
  • Fernando Verdasco maintained a position in the top ten for two years courtesy of a monster forehand and a magnificently rigid faux-mo. He shaved his head last year, and now his forehand cannot find the court. Coincidence?
  • Paul McNamee maintains an affable presence in the commentary booth, generally throwing in enough factual inaccuracy to keep things entertaining (Memphis and San Jose are not played directly before the US Open). He is not above casual racism, either: ‘I’m sure being Chinese he knows all about gambling.’
  • The Hyundai Hopman Cup is proudly supported by Hyundai, among about five hundred other sponsors (not to mention Hyundai). No opportunity is avoided to list them all (Hyundai). Each nation’s team even has its own sponsor. The Australian team is sponsored by KFC, which perhaps explains why Jarmila Gajdosova now has the top speed and turning circle of a vintage steam roller. In the process of being double-bagelled by Marion Bartoli, she frequently gave up on pursuing her opponent’s shots, and instead commenced her usual routine of whining soulfully at her box before the ball even landed.

As for China’s finest, he was eventually ground away by Australia’s Lleyton Hewitt, as you would expect when the world No.421 encounters the No.188. They looked to be hitting the ball well at times, but appearances are of course deceiving, especially lacking perspective. I switched over to Brisbane, where Radek Stepanek and Alexandr Dolgopolov were duking it out, mano-a-weirdo. The Hopman Cup might insist with all its heart that a tennis event can be tremendous fun, but over in Brisbane they were demonstrating that when the tennis is sufficiently fun on its own, the event itself doesn’t have to be.

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January 3, 2012

Stern, Assured and Aromatic

Brisbane, First Round

(8) Tomic d. Benneteau, 6/2 4/6 7/5

Baghdatis d. Harrison, 7/6 6/4

Mixed results for the scourge of troubled youths in Brisbane. Bernard Tomic showed a stern and rare manliness in overcoming Julien Benneteau in three sets. He was unstoppable through the first set, and largely incapable in the second, when Benneteau lifted, although I wouldn’t want to imply that he therefore lifted very high. Breaks were traded in the decider, but Tomic’s stony and vaguely autistic impassiveness looked set to carry the day. Match points were discarded with brash abandon, until the Frenchman grew offended at such profligate waste and chose to intervene, realising that he alone had the power to end this thing. Tomic looked on with rugged and dim aloofness, like a latter-day Marlboro Man, daring Benneteau to gift him another. Benneteau obliged, and then obliged again.

Meanwhile Ryan Harrison went down swinging against Marcos Baghdatis, although it might be fairer to say Baghdatis went up swinging. Either way, there was plenty of swinging (and the Australian leg of the season hasn’t even been christened a ‘swing’ yet, thank god). It was tremendously entertaining, and Harrison’s serve is a fearsome weapon, but it was a match he really needed to win. Baghdatis will not have received the memo – they still have memos, right? – but the Cypriot has devolved into one of those players whose function is to provide a breakthrough win for the up-and-comer (when he isn’t wrecking a top player’s day). Five years ago Baghdatis was the up-and-comer, and plenty of veterans obligingly did the same for him. Time to pay it forward.

Doha, First Round

(2) Federer d. Davydenko, 6/2 6/2

Having stunk up the joint at that ‘just an exhibition’ in Abu Dhabi last week, where he conceded two matches in straight and noisome sets, Roger Federer has commenced his Doha title defence in far less putrid form. He looks a more assured, and aromatic, player than last week.

Before his fans get ahead of themselves, however, it’s important to bear in mind that Nikolay Davydenko looks a different player from those Federer faced last week. Sadly, Davydenko is also a different player from the one who fell to Federer in last year’s final, let alone the one who defeated Federer and Nadal here two years ago. Although otherwise inconsequential, Doha provides a useful chart of Davydenko’s recent decline, which shows no signs of pausing. Indeed, the Russian’s swan dive into irrelevance appears to be accelerating, having attained a velocity that could well prove terminal. Still, Federer’s serve and forehand have seemingly returned to the transcendent levels we saw in London.

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December 31, 2011

Significance without Meaning

Abu Dhabi, Semifinals

Djokovic d. Federer, 6/2 6/1

Ferrer d. Nadal, 6/3 6/2

Novak Djokovic today crushed Roger Federer in less than three quarters of an hour. David Ferrer took slightly over an hour to inflict the same treatment on Rafael Nadal. It is only Abu Dhabi, of course, and therefore only an exhibition, but for ostensibly meaningless results, they gave us plenty to think on.

Barry Cowan, holding forth at yawn-inducing length on Eurosport, declared that this result will no more trouble Federer than it will inspire Djokovic. If both were to meet in the semifinal or final in Melbourne, this encounter would figure exactly nowhere in their reckoning. Elite athletes, he insisted, are particularly good about selectively forgetting when it suits them. He’s probably right, but only to an extent. His words might have rung truer had Djokovic prevailed 6/4 7/5 or something. But a mugging this comprehensive must surely resonate at some level, especially if Djokovic pulls ahead early in these (purely theoretical) future encounters.

Once he’d finished apologising to the crowd – and by extension to the organisers who’ve paid a fortune for him to show up – Federer was willing to admit that exhibition or not, being on the receiving end of so severe a hiding was ‘uncomfortable’. He was forthright in his praise of Djokovic, and rightly so. Perhaps it was the near-total lack of pressure, but I can’t recall Djokovic playing this well even last year. It was a level that will perhaps be familiar to anyone who has watched the pros practice against each other. The most impressive set of tennis I’ve ever watched was between Stefan Koubek and Max Mirnyi on an outside court a few days before the Australian Open about ten years ago, conducted with a degree of ferocity and velocity neither has ever brought to an actual match. Djokovic played like that today. We could say that Federer let him, but I’m not sure the Swiss had much say in the matter. Certainly Djokovic’s reassuring admission that the result merely reflected his having an extra match under his belt sounded hollow. If the Serb can sustain this level in tournament play, then 2011 will come to be seen as less of a stand-out than a foretaste.

Ferrer’s victory over Nadal was arguably more interesting through being less freakish. Much has been made of Nadal’s tender shoulder, but it was never a factor. The real issue was his backhand, and the genuine interest in this match lay in its strong connection to Nadal’s other serious losses in the last few months. I speak namely of the US Open final (to Djokovic), the Tokyo final (to Murray), and his loss to Federer at the World Tour Finals. In every case the world No.2 was completely shut out of the match by having his backhand pressed until it broke.

Ferrer’s tactic tonight was precisely the same. Nearly everything was directed to the backhand, and despite a few frustrated winners, it obligingly fell apart, either through basic error or by falling short. Nadal’s forehand was only brought into play when Ferrer chose to do so, at which point the world No.5 would strike hard and almost invariably catch Nadal off guard. On the few occasions when Nadal gained control of the rally and lined up a forehand he wanted, he was under sufficient pressure to execute that he pulled the trigger either too early or too hard. If Ferrer could lay a racquet on it, he would adroitly redirect the ball back to Nadal’s backhand, and continue pressing until either an error or a short ball was forthcoming. It was a perfect blueprint of how to play Nadal on a hardcourt. All it requires is a rock-solid technique, nimble feet, and the patience of a saint.

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December 30, 2011

Just an Exhibition

The 2012 tennis season is barely hours old, and no ‘official’ matches have occurred, but already David Ferrer has staged a dogged fightback, Novak Djokovic has won comfortably, while Gael Monfils entertained enormously in posting an inevitable loss. So much for new beginnings.

Of course, Abu Dhabi is just an exhibition, although I am personally not fond of ‘exhibition’ as a blanket term, since it covers too many disparate events. If Nadal plays a one-off match for the benefit of his foundation, for no remuneration, then that is categorically different from swanning in to the UAE to play a couple of meaningless tune-ups for a million bucks. The events occurring the week before majors – such as Kooyong – are a slightly different matter again. Mostly what relegates these various shindigs to exhibition status is the format, since they feature tiny invitational draws. We may therefore define an exhibition as being any event that lacks ATP endorsement, with the consequence that the results do not figure on the official records. As I say, it’s a capacious definition, and gives the casual viewer few clues on how to approach them. Charity exhibitions have pre-decided outcomes, and are heavily laced with farce and crowd interaction. Warm-up events, on the other hand, can prove every bit as serious as an official tour match.*

It is remarkable how important the ATP’s imprimatur remains. This importance cannot be measured in appearance fees – although hopefully no one believes that five of the top six players are gracing Abu Dhabi out of charity – but it can be measured in effort, although the potency of this distinction has lately become diluted. If 2011 was the year of Djokovic, it was also the year of the precautionary retirement – cynics might unfairly suggest that the two are related – whereby many top players would retire from any match they no longer believed they could win, assuming they could blame it on a suitably obvious niggle. Thus we saw Djokovic pull out of the Cincinnati final while down a set, but one week later mount a US Open campaign about as gruelling as traversing the Kokoda Track without legs. This was by no means an isolated example; the season was littered with them, to the point that this behaviour became normalised, and to even remark on it came to seem like carping. Thus does base expediency become dignified as tactical nous.

In any case, this kind of behaviour was once a useful way of telling an exhibition from a ‘real’ event, since it was common at ‘exhos’, whose organisers well understood that no player would risk injury on their behalf (although this would depend on the guarantees surrounding the appearance fee). When Tsonga basically gave up in the third set against Ferrer tonight, the immediate and classic response would be that this was fair enough: it’s just an exhibition. What was more depressing, however, was how such an explanation wasn’t even necessary. Giving up just looked . . . . normal. This was a shame, since the match had been pretty good up until that point, especially that pivotal second set tiebreaker. Sadly, the last few games were entirely perfunctory.**

Djokovic and Monfils served up more traditional exhibition fare – trading tweeners and other sundry trick-shots, as well as some truly monstered forehands – although as the world No.1 tore through that opening set it tasted more like nouveau Djokovic, with added spice. (Okay, no more hackneyed food metaphors. They leave a bad taste in the mouth.) Was it significant that Djokovic’s first rally of the 2012 season ended with an immaculate backhand winner up the line? Perhaps. He did seem to be playing with greater pace than usual, hopefully reflecting his coach’s recent comments that enhanced aggression was a goal for the coming year. We can only pray this increased pace occurs between points as well as during them. There has been plenty of discussion concerning Djokovic’s motivations for this year, though I suppose limiting his inclination to dawdle before serving is too much to hope for. Let’s pray it’s a goal for the umpires, at least.

* For a good example, try the sternly-fought Kooyong final of 2002 between Agassi and Sampras. It can be downloaded here.
** I do not mean to suggest that Tsonga retires easily as a rule. If anything it is the opposite. For example, two of his three victories over Federer were monumental comebacks.

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December 23, 2011

Christmas Break

The Next Point will be taking a short break over Christmas. I will return around New Year’s, as the 2012 season kicks off.

In the meantime, please have a relaxing, safe and satisfying break.

Meanwhile, enjoy this offering from the inimitable Tim Minchin, which says everything I could hope to say about Christmas:

Thanks so much for all of your support in 2011 – It is very much appreciated.

Jesse Pentecost

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December 22, 2011

New Balls (Please)

In the eternal quest for recognition, there is no quality more valuable than to be easily and readily identifiable. This is not a difficult concept, although its ramifications are many, and it is amazing how long it took to catch on. The moment it did was the moment brands achieved their own life, and the moment genre attained primacy over content. It turns out there is no limit to the disparate things that might be grouped, with an allegedly unifying theme imposed only later.

About ten years ago the ATP belatedly caught up to this elementary idea, and the men’s tour was subjected to a thorough brand repositioning, which is a cute way of saying everything became shinier and more facile. The Super 9 events became the Masters Series, while the useful but apparently baffling Entry System gave way to the simpler and mostly useless Champion’s Race. The centrepiece of this effort was the New Balls Please campaign, which threw together a number of up and coming tennis players, many of who shared few traits beyond a willingness to glower for the promotional material.

Concerned at a perceived waning in fan interest, due largely to Sampras’ decade-long dominance, the ATP launched the New Balls campaign just prior to the US Open in 2000, and immediately struck gold when Safin thrashed Sampras in the final. A poster ad followed up: ‘How do you like me now?’ demanded Safin sternly. A counter-poster appeared, featuring Sampras and Agassi: “Dream on, boys,” it proclaimed, boldly implying that Pete and Andre had arranged it themselves, and that this was a bona fide turf war. Kuerten eventually topped both at the Masters Cup to grab the year-end top ranking, and the New Balls line-up was expanded to an even dozen, and a calendar appeared (which I still have in a cupboard somewhere). The dour, chin-thrusting squints of the participants were familiar: Haas, Hewitt, Ferrero, Federer, Grosjean etc. An aptitude for tennis was about all they had in common, and many were already on wildly divergent career paths. But they were marketable, and the fallacious idea of wholesale generational change in tennis became entrenched.

Skip forwards a decade, and for the first time in years, we are beset with an identifiable gang of youths on the rise. Each made his mark at the 2011 Australian Open. By the end of that tournament, they were being treated as a cohesive unit, inevitably, and paid the lazy compliment of being assigned roles based on players of the past. Thus one was the new Sampras, another the next Mecir, or Rios. Their names were Grigor Dimitrov, Milos Raonic, Ricardas Berankis and Bernard Tomic. March saw the addition of Ryan Harrison. 2011 was their first full year on the tour. The most amazing thing is that the News Balls Please campaign was not rehashed; an opportunity missed by the ATP, mercifully.

Milos Raonic
Current Ranking: 31
I first encountered Raonic as he pounded through the Australian Open qualifying draw with placid violence, and first wrote about him as he tore into the main one. At the time it seemed clear – and I suggested as much – that if any player is fated to succeed, it was he. Quite aside from his lethally exuberant first strike game, he boasted the more ephemeral advantages of a baked-in fan base (being Canadian) and a ready-made catch-phrase (‘Another game for Milos!’).

He just needed the results. They began as a trickle in Melbourne, and grew to a torrent in North America soon afterwards. Raonic captured his first title at San Jose in February and very nearly grabbed a second the following week in Memphis. His clay season was reassuringly solid – it turns out he can even play real tennis – and big things were expected at Wimbledon, where his penchant for short shorts nearly launched a New Balls Please campaign on its own. Sadly, he fell injured early, and spent the entire US Summer rehabilitating. It is no stretch to see him rising higher still in 2012, although he has plenty to defend in the first four months.

Bernard Tomic
Current Ranking: 42
Tomic was the story of Wimbledon’s first week, as he carved and prodded his way through an obliging coterie of also-rans (Andreev), has-beens (Davydenko), head-cases (Malisse) and Robin Soderling, becoming the youngest quarterfinalist in 26 years. It was impressive, but doubts lingered over his mettle, though few questioned his luck. In the quarterfinals he ran afoul of Novak Djokovic, and performed with such poise and grit in a four set loss that reasonable doubt was quashed. He is still not well-loved, and probably never will be, but Tomic is unarguably the real deal.

The trick for him will be to add substantially to his current ranking before Wimbledon comes around again. Banking on repeating last year’s run is a pretty shaky proposition. Like Raonic, he may conceivably finish 2012 higher than he is now, but I suspect he will sink lower in the meantime.

Grigor Dimitrov
Current Ranking: 76
Most players in this group bear a pronounced burden of national expectation, since many are from proud tennis nations that aren’t Spain, Serbia or France, and have thus known better days. Bulgarian Grigor Dimitrov carries international expectations. Even among his peers he is considered the talented one, and he arguably didn’t help himself by basing his game so closely on Roger Federer’s that he can look like a caricature. The backhand and serve appear particularly aped, although the forehand barely resembles its model, since Dimitrov, like everyone else, cannot reproduce Federer’s prodigious extension through the strike-zone. There is consequently an easy trap to fall into with Dimitrov, which is merely to ridicule him, and dwell on the tangible gaps between him and his idol. Such an approach yields breezy irony, but glosses over the fact that regardless of his model, he is a tremendously stylish and exciting player in his own right, and that he made fine progress in 2011.

The issue, which I’ve touched on before, is that it’s hard to see where any sudden improvement will come from. What can be ‘fixed’ in order for him to join the elite? Perhaps tinkering around the edges – the backhand needs to become steadier – will be enough, and greater mental fortitude and stamina will do the rest. He’ll become stronger with time, and that might be all he needs. He will undoubtedly rise further next year, but the real question is whether he will ever become the next Federer, or whether he’s already the next Gasquet (a position that will remain occupied for the foreseeable future).

Ryan Harrison
Current Ranking: 79
Ryan Harrison’s win over Raonic at Indian Wells was among the more memorable matches that no one will remember, and he fought hard in going down to Federer the round after. His loss to Marin Cilic at the US Open was memorable and forgettable, too, albeit for different reasons. Both matches illustrated how far this group has come. Indian Wells was considered an upset, Harrison’s ‘arrival’ as it were. By September, Harrison hadn’t achieved anything astounding – a few semifinals in the smaller lead-ups – and yet he was expected to defeat Marin Cilic easily. He didn’t go down easily, it’s true, but he did go down noisily.

He has the game to rise much higher, and his inflated sense of entitlement probably won’t hurt in the short term. But it was apparent that he believed too readily in his destiny against Cilic that day, which is a ludicrous proposition from any angle. You can feel entitled, but a sense of proportion helps, too. Cilic worked hard and took the win. Harrison tossed his racquet around and shouted a bit, and didn’t.

Ricardas Berankis
Current Ranking: 125
Alone among this group, Ricardas Berankis receded this year, after last year finishing as the youngest player in the top 100. This was mostly due to injury, and he only played 18 matches. It was a shame, since he began the year strongly. Nonetheless, I harbour a suspicion that even fully fit he will struggle on the main tour. Time will tell. Paul Annacone’s wonderfully insightful Twitter updates have revealed that Berankis is working with Federer in the offseason. That can’t hurt.

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December 18, 2011

Ten Maidens

In 2010, five different players captured a maiden title, although history does not record what they did with it after that. Whatever it was, once word got round the locker-room the deed was keenly emulated. In 2011 the number doubled. We can only hope the treatment has been humane, unlike in the seventies, when a captive maiden title might be chained up in a basement for months, and confined to a subsistence diet.

In terms of patterns, I’d love to report that hours of staring at the winners list has yielded a sudden, searing insight. Sadly, there is little to say. Every winner was from a different country. Some winners were virgins in their first final, others veterans in their fifth. I would have laid down money against at least one of them ever claiming a tour trophy, whilst two others were the most notable players without silverware. About all we can usefully say is that all of the events were 250 level, and that the top four did not grace any of them, which has become the sole precondition of anyone else winning. Is it worth mentioning that nine out of these ten players have subsequently achieved their highest year-end ranking? Sure, in much the same way that taking to a group of ten bystanders with a fire hose would result in most of them getting wet.

1. Kevin Anderson – SA Tennis Open, Johannesburg
The SA Tennis Open was only a young event, but the unfortunate alchemy of scheduling and geography conspired to fatally accelerate its life-cycle. 2009 was its heyday, and this year saw a rapid decent first into dotage, and then death. It is perhaps poetic that a local won the thing before the end, and Kevin Anderson is a likable guy and a fine player, but he posted more impressive first-round exits elsewhere this year.

2. Ivan Dodig – PBZ Zagreb Indoors, Zagreb
Zagreb also takes place the week after the Australian Open, and thus also guarantees itself a second-rate and locally-weighted draw (Goran Ivanisevic played in the doubles), but it was still a typically gutsy performance from the tour’s most rumpled player (there should be a trophy for that).

3. Milos Raonic – SAP Open, San Jose
This was not the beginning of the slide for Fernando Verdasco, but it was the point at which it became irreversible. The tipping point can be traced to the moment in the final when a fan yelled out on championship point. Busily essaying any excuse he could find, Verdasco missed what everyone else was seeing, which was that Milos Raonic had arrived.

4. Ryan Sweeting – US Men’s Clay Court Championship, Houston
The general feeling was that this was Kei Nishikori’s final to lose. For pundits this was just an abstruse and cliched idea, but for Nishikori it was a cherished goal, which he duly achieved. Sweeting was left holding the trophy, after playing the most ill-tempered first final I have ever witnessed.

5. Pablo Andujar – Grand Prix Hassan II, Casablanca
There is no category in men’s tennis at the moment that does not include a Spaniard in it, almost as though it is a structural requirement of the sport. (Swarthiest? Check. Dreamiest thighs? You bet. Most macho website? Never in doubt.) Anyhow, back in Casablanca, Pablo Andujar became his nation’s representative on the first-time titlist list, dispatching Potito Starace in a nervously-fought, low-grade final.

6. Andreas Seppi – AEGON International, Eastbourne
Unlike his finalist opponent Janko Tipsarevic, Andreas Seppi falls into the category of a seasoned tour stalwart for whom a maiden title was by no means a given. If the Italian was to break through, Eastbourne, played on grass, was perhaps the least likely venue at which to do it. This was the notorious final in which Tipsarevic retired in the final game, as Seppi served for the title, an example of sour sportsmanship will rightly dog the Serbian for years to come.

7. Alexandr Dolgopolov – ATP Studena Croatia Open, Umag
The high quality final ultimately devolved into a flurry of tense errors, dead net-cords and a busted string, but it was the mercurial Dolgopolov hoisting the unbelievably tasteful and understated trophy at the end.

8. Robin Haase – bet-at-home Cup, Kitzbühel
In his first tour final, Robin Haase became the first Dutchman since Martin Verkerk to claim a tour title, a gap of seven years. Until this point we only had the odd brilliant set to make us wonder why Haase can’t play well all the time. Now we have a whole week.

9. Florian Mayer – BRD Nastase Tiriac Trophy, Bucharest
I had waited for years for Florian Mayer to start winning titles, having predicted shortly after his appearance on the scene in about 2002 that he was the next big thing, although I was not so blinkered that I believed he would dominate unopposed. Of course he would be sharing the limelight with Xavier Malisse, whose Wimbledon semifinal was clearly a portent of great things to come, and there was residual buzz about that young firebrand Federer. Nine years later, and my prediction has been borne out, if only in Bucharest. I’m willing to admit I was wrong about Malisse.

10. Janko Tipsarevic – Malaysian Open, Kuala Lumpur
It was becoming ludicrous. Janko Tipsarevic was in the midst of a career year, he’d risen over 30 places into the top 20, and he was still without a a title to his name. I think I’m right in saying it was the most talked about thing in Serbian tennis this year, although I am admittedly not abreast of Jelena Jankovic’s antics. The monkey was finally removed from Tipsarevic’s back in Malaysia, and, unbearably lightened, he soared to the Moscow title several weeks later, and eventually floated into the top ten.

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