December 16, 2011

Surely It Cannot Continue

There is a theoretical maximum to the number of points that any single tennis player can accrue in a season, and for a long time this year Novak Djokovic was hell-bent on getting closer to it than anyone ever has. If he had his way, that theoretical number would become an actual one next to his name, or he would kill himself trying. As it was, he did almost kill himself. An on-court collapse the weekend after the US Open foreshadowed a weak end to the season. Consequently, the number buffering his ranking is large (13,630), but it isn’t the largest there has been.

Had it been larger, Djokovic might well have taken the apparently coveted Sportsperson of the Year prize doled out by Sports Illustrated, one of the few sporting publications sufficiently august to boast a swimsuit edition. (As it was, the palme went to a couple of college basketball coaches, which was doubtless nice for them. Those of us who chose to be born elsewhere in the world were united in vague surprise that Djokovic didn’t win anyway, and continued bafflement at the strange interest Americans have in university sports.) He’s probably a shoe-in for the Laureus award, anyway, assuming he can overcome spirited opposition from Sebastian Vettel and the long-serving bowling coach for the Gauteng second XI, who’ve had a good run of late, almost winning several close games.

But I have yet to broach a topic, and already I digress. My point is points, and the consideration that Djokovic didn’t quite take them all. As an interesting corollary, every event Djokovic entered but failed to win was subsequently won by Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer or Andy Murray. Furthermore, of the ten titles Djokovic did win, in only two cases did he defeat someone other than those three in the final (Belgrade and Montreal), the point being that had he somehow lost those matches, the titles would have remained in the club. All of this is a complicated way of saying that the Big Four have once again dominated the season.

They’ve been doing so for years, of course, and the prevailing belief that they wouldn’t do it again seemed to be based on little more than the assumption that doing so defied reason, which is a species of wishful thinking. As it happened, their domination was more profound than ever. Between the four of them, they claimed every significant title available: four Majors, nine Masters 1000s, the World Tour Finals (and the Davis Cup). On top of that, they all won a 500 level event, and only Nadal failed to win a 250 level one. I am confident in saying nothing like that has happened before.

Furthermore, not only did they win these events, they often filled out the four semifinal berths as well. It has already been pointed out that 2011 was the first year since 1964 that no player reached their first Grand Slam final, and the first time in the Open era that no player reached their first Grand Slam semifinal. That’s quite staggering. There were also no new titlists at the Masters events, and no new finalists. The upshot is that an unholy proportion of available ranking points are commanded by the combined top four (with Djokovic hogging the lion’s share of those).

Since pictures render everything more excitingly comprehensible, here’s a graph to illustrate. It shows the top four’s year end points as a percentage of all available points at the mandatory events (Majors, Masters and the WTF), going back to 1990. The maximum possible points is defined by all four players reaching the semifinals or better at every event.

The spike in 1995 was due to strong seasons by Sampras, Agassi, Becker and Muster, while the subsequent plummet reflected how calamitously several of those players fell away. Since that low point in 1996, there has been a steady trend towards top-heavy domination. In 2011, the top four accrued 81.52% of the theoretical maximum. If anything it appears as though they underperformed last year, lazily gifting Masters titles to Roddick, Ljubicic and Soderling.

Is there really any reason to think things will change next year? Federer has cleared 30, but he is emphatically still Federer and the usual rules do not apply. The other three guys are either 24 or 25, allegedly prime ages for a male tennis player. We look at a year like this year, and think surely it can’t continue. But is that just wishful thinking?

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December 14, 2011

Rise and Fall (Part Two)

Previously I discussed the players who had complied their most memorable season in 2011, at least relative to 2010. Today I’ll talk about those who fell most sharply away. There are various reasons why this might happen. Some players subside as a matter of course, their allotted year in the light having expired. Others, veterans, will sense the race outrunning them for some time, and are finally trampled underfoot. Some get injured. Some just don’t play very well.

Here are the players who shed the most ranking points in 2011. The number in brackets is their points loss for the season.

  1. Robin Soderling (3460)
  2. Rafael Nadal (2855)
  3. Mikhail Youzhny (1815)
  4. Andy Roddick (1725)
  5. Fernando Verdasco (1690)
  6. Jurgen Melzer (1615)
  7. Sam Querrey (1271)
  8. Roger Federer (975)
  9. Marcos Baghdatis (845)
  10. Ernests Gulbis (720)

Ever since Robin Soderling’s ascent in 2009, the top eight has looked sturdier for having him in it. Now that glandular fever has buggered his season and his ranking, it feels as though a crucial link between the truly elite and the rest is missing. Clearly he wasn’t beating the top four with any regularity, but he was a sufficiently imposing quarterfinal presence to keep them honest. He has already withdrawn from next year’s Australian Open (where he has never performed well) and Brisbane (where he is the defending champion). However far he has already fallen, he has some way to go before he can begin climbing again. For a time his mid-career breakthrough was the most intriguing tale in the sport. Let’s hope he can tell it again.

Rafael Nadal’s 2010 season ranks among the most accomplished in the history of the sport. It would have been a tough act to sustain for more than a season, and thus it is essential to remind ourselves that but for the grace of Djokovic, Nadal’s 2011 might well have eclipsed it. There is no way of knowing either way, and to speculate more than idly is the business of the fanatical fan. Djokovic did happen, and Nadal merely registered a season that 99% of professional players in history must envy. He is still No.2 in the world – a not unfamiliar position – despite jettisoning a huge number of points. To put this volume into perspective, if world No.9 Janko Tipsarevic was to shed as many points as Nadal has, he would no longer be ranked as a tennis player, and still owe some change. Like Nadal, Roger Federer dropped points and fell a place in the rankings, momentarily departing the top three for the first time in over eight years. A mighty finish to the season staunched the wound in time, and provided some confusing signals heading into 2012.

Andy Roddick has been on the slide for years, and the fact that the gradient has hitherto been so shallow and smooth speaks amply of his fighting qualities. It also demonstrates how the constant and deliberate effort to purge his game of all dynamism has ensured he mostly beats those ranked below him, but can barely trouble those ranked higher. With the exception of Ferrer at the US Open, Roddick’s efforts against the best players were dire. He was savaged by Nadal in the very next round in New York, beaten up by Federer in Basel, and mugged by Murray at Queens. Indeed, Ferrer had already exacted ‘prevenge’ by cleaning Roddick up in the Davis Cup, on a slick court in Austin. The difference in 2011, and the reason why Roddick briefly departed the top 20, is that he has grown increasingly vulnerable to players below him, such as Lopez at Wimbledon. Holding the floodgates shut as proved an exacting task for many years, and as he now rounds on thirty, it might well have broken him. He will always have his serve, and it will always remain a deal-breaker on fast courts, but barring a miracle run at SW19 I suspect Roddick’s slide will only accelerate.

Youzhny and Melzer are classic examples of players who’d earned a year in the big time – Youzhny had been there before – but inevitably plummeted once their hauls went undefended. I am partial to both guys, particularly Youzhny, and so have been saddened to see it happen. My feelings regarding Verdasco are more ambivalent. He lasted a full two years in the top ten, but ever since Milos Raonic broke his will in San Jose and Memphis, he has barely put together consecutive weeks of real tennis.

When Ernests Gulbis won LA, defeating del Potro and Fish en route, there was a pervasive sense that he had finally found his way. Forgotten in all the hoopla was the fact that LA is a tournament whose best days are long past. Forgotten since has been Gulbis himself, who returned to his feckless shenanigans the following week, and has hardly been heard of since. Meanwhile the ATP website ran an inspirational puff piece on Marcos Baghdatis at the start of the season, the overarching theme of which was that the streaky Cypriot was finally prepared to buckle down and become a proper tennis player, for realsies. The video mainly consisted of him doing sit-ups on a perfect beach, although whether this was meant to stand in metonymically for a broader effort, or whether this was the true extent of his regimen, was never made clear. The upshot is that Baghdatis has attained his lowest ranking in six years, and worked damn hard to get there.

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December 12, 2011

Rise and Fall (Part One)

The immediately striking feature of this year’s ATP top ten is that it bears a suspiciously strong resemblance to last year’s. Expanding the selection, the same holds true for the top fifty, and even the top hundred. Perusing the lists side by side – a mesmerically dull diversion, I can assure you – reveals that while there are inevitable exceptions, the prevailing theme has been rearrangement rather than rejuvenation.

Whether the rearrangement has merely been of deckchairs on the Titanic depends largely on your point of view. Some insist the sport has never been stronger, for all that the same guys keep winning everything. Others suggest that for a top sport to go so long without wholesale renewal is at best numbing, and at worst foreshadows an iceberg on the horizon. I am temperamentally averse to conspiracy theories and doomsday proclamations, and find myself without a strong opinion. There have been years when every winner commuted in directly from left field, but I don’t recall being more interested as a consequence. In any case, while the top four have again dominated, no one foresaw the way it would unfold. And for all that the exceptions to the general hegemony have been sparse, they’ve also been fascinating, particularly the youngsters on the rise, and the host of players claiming maiden titles. More on those later.

For now, some numbers. Here are the players who have gained the most ranking points in the last twelve months (with their point gain in brackets). This list demonstrates whose 2011 was the biggest improvement over their 2010:

  1. Novak Djokovic (7,390)
  2. Juan Martin del Potro (2,135)
  3. Jo-Wilfried Tsonga (1,990)
  4. Janko Tipsarevic (1,660)
  5. Andy Murray (1,620)
  6. David Ferrer (1,190)
  7. Gilles Simon (1,160)
  8. Alexandr Dolgopolov (985)
  9. Mardy Fish (974)
  10. Milos Raonic (910)

Unsurprisingly, Djokovic is on top, although even for those of us intimate with the figures they remaining astounding. While Federer finished with a higher tally in 2006, he started from a much higher base, as the undisputed world No.1. Djokovic has been an elite player for years, but a gain like this reveals just how profoundly his breakout season has come from nowhere. Del Potro’s place is hardly surprising, since he is also an elite player, and he had almost nothing to defend this year. Both Ferrer and Fish have built on strong results last season, and have become noted presences at bigger events. Gilles Simon hasn’t, but he is somewhere back where he should be after a year marred by fatherhood.

Janko Tipsarevic is arguably the big story here. He finished 2010 ranked 49th, with 935 points to his name, having spent his final match of the year benched while Troicki won Serbia the Davis Cup. He finished this year ranked forty places higher at No.9, reached five tour finals, and actually won a few, which proved to be a refreshing change. His final match of the year was at the O2, where he took out Djokovic. That can be regarded as belated revenge for dozens of prior losses, or, radically, it can just be viewed as a tennis match.

Andy Murray gained almost as many points as Tipsarevic, and consequently saw his ranking soar from No.4 all the way to No.4. To further illustrate this – since the concept of a number not changing is just too complicated to grasp in one go – here are the top hundred players who have seen the largest ranking jump this season. Murray features nowhere on this list. The first number is the ranking jump over the last twelve months. The current ranking is in brackets.

  1. Cedrik-Marcel Stebe – 297 (81)
  2. Juan Martin del Potro – 257 (11)
  3. Bernard Tomic – 166 (42)
  4. Dmitry Tursonov – 157 (40)
  5. Flavio Cipolla – 136 (75)
  6. Alex Bogomolov Jr – 132 (34)
  7. Milos Raonic – 125 (31)
  8. Matthew Ebden – 97 (86)
  9. Lukas Rosol – 94 (70)
  10. Ryan Harrison – 94 (79)

A disparate collection, to be sure, and it would be quixotic to seek a unifying theme here. Del Potro and Tursonov are accomplished tour mainstays returning from injury, although the magnitude of their accomplishments is in inverse proportion to their flamboyance (Tursonov is hilarious). Milos Raonic features on both lists (unsurprisingly), but here he is joined by Tomic and Harrison. I will discuss this group in further detail soon, but for now it is worth pointing out that Raonic’s dramatic ascent was achieved in a season abbreviated by injury, suggesting he has a ways to rise yet.

Matthew Ebden is an interesting case: a kind of Australian Ferrer on under-drive, his ranking is testament to how even quintessential journeymen are only ever one strong run away from a year in the big time. He scrapped his way through qualifying to the quarterfinals of the Shanghai Masters, and there gave an honest account of himself against a rampant Murray, and for that has been rewarded with a year’s worth of direct entry into the majors, and a solid base from which to ascend higher should the gods smile again.

Young German lefty Cedrik-Marcel Stebe tops this list, although it was a steady year on the Challenger circuit that pushed him arse-backwards onto the main tour. Final and shocking impetus arrived when he romped to the title at the ATP Challenger Tour Finals, overcoming such A-list journeymen as Dudi Sela and Rui Machado. He posted four wins at tour level this season, and I saw two of them, and both were over Nikolay Davydenko. The prevailing vibe was that this demonstrated just how far the Russian had fallen, and I remain more or less inclined to this view. However, it is harder to defend when I note that he also beat Juan Carlos Ferrero in straight sets on clay, although the fact that he did the same to Fabio Fognini and Thomas Muster could mean anything.

Alex Bogomolov Jr also rates a mention, although he has hardly gone unmentioned of late. If Ebden’s example is suggestive, then Bogomolov’s is exemplary. A Challenger fixture for nigh on a decade, prior to last May Bogomolov had only fleetingly cracked the top 100, and that was eight years ago. I can hardly recall not seeing him grinding away at the Australian Open qualifying event each year, and on at least three occasions I have wondered aloud how this diminutive fellow with no appreciable gifts beyond doggedness and a certain flair for mis-wearing hats summoned the will to continue. Like so many Americans, his faith in the big break rewarding honest toil was apparently unshakable. It turns out his faith was justified. He is somehow two withdrawals away from an Australian Open seeding. And now, having realised the American Dream, Bogomolov has committed to pursuing a Russian one.

Next I will discuss those players who fell away in season 2011. Andy Roddick will not go unmentioned.

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December 9, 2011

The Match of the Year 2011

Here are my top ten matches for the 2011 season, as I saw them.

Lists such as this are inevitably skewed towards the top players, for reasons that should be more or less self-evident. First, the top players are at the top due to their proven capacity to play well often, and the very top players can even play well when their opponent is. Lower ranked players tend to take it in turns, although as the ranking number gets bigger many grow disinclined to play well at all.

Secondly, the top players are more like to be competing in the biggest arenas, at the most dramatic stages of the most prestigious tournaments. Djokovic’s astonishing defeat of Federer in the US Open semifinal only gained from taking place on the world’s largest tennis stadium, packed and roaring. Conversely, Djokovic was unbeaten for the year coming into the French Open semifinal, and everyone in the world knew it. The quality of play counts for a lot, but context and atmosphere still matter. In extreme cases, it counts for everything:

10. Fognini d. Montanes, Roland Garros, Fourth Round. 4/6 6/4 3/6 6/3 11/9
This match will surely cement the charismatic and polarising Fognini’s reputation among the foremost tragicomic figures in the sport. Barely mobile due to severe cramps in the fifth set, Fognini began lustily swinging at every ball he could lay a racquet on. This turned out to be almost all of them, since the cramps were the rare contagious kind, and had spread to Montanes’ brain. Deploying the double fault with a potency unheard of since Kournikova, Fognini lurched and limped his way to an impossible win.

9. Nadal d. Karlovic, Indian Wells, Quarterfinal. 5/7 6/1 7/6
Nadal began the first Masters Series event of the year in patchy form, but was ably assisted by an utterly collapsed draw, which meant he would face no seeds en route to the final. However, returning from injury, Karlovic was in unprecedented touch, posting wins over Simon and Ferrer in which he had frankly and shockingly outplayed each from the baseline. His superior power rocked Nadal back in the first set, before Nadal dialled in his returns to super-human levels in the second. The third lifted to an ecstatic tiebreak, with Nadal saving a match point.

8. Gasquet d. Federer, Rome, Quarterfinal. 4/6 7/6 7/6
From a set and a break up, Federer surely fancied his chances, especially against a man he had not lost to in over six years, and who can generally be relied upon to fold when behind. But not this day. Gasquet’s backhand was superb, as it always is. The real revelation was his forehand, which he lashed with reckless intensity. Do not for a moment imagine Federer played badly. Gasquet was exceptional.

7. Soderling d. Hewitt, Wimbledon, Third Round. 6/7 3/6 7/5 6/4 6/4
Much as he had against del Potro in 2009, former champion Hewitt looked to have the grass court measure of his opponent. Soderling, constantly forced to hit forehands from unfamiliar parts of the court, was driven to roaring distraction. The adjustment came in the third, when the Swede drained some of the excessive pace from his shots, and patiently forced Hewitt to defend. It was a comprehensive and mature fightback from the Swede, especially on his least favoured surface.

6. Djokovic d. Nadal, Miami, Final. 4/6 6/3 7/6
Djokovic defeated Nadal in six finals this year, after having never done it before at all. Miami was the second of them, and it more or less recreated the Indian Wells final of some weeks prior, but with all the settings dialled up. Nadal’s form was stronger, the court, air and balls were slower, and the physicality of the play was more demanding. The importance of this match should not be overlooked, for it set up the clay finals to come, and established that Djokovic could outlast a truly committed Nadal.

5. Soderling d. Kohlschreiber, Rotterdam, Second Round. 6/3 5/7 7/6
For some reason, this pair have always pushed each other to the limit, even as Soderling’s career has taken flight, and Kohlschreiber’s has remained earthbound due to flashy inconsistency. This was their fourth encounter, and all had so far gone to third set tiebreakers. On a fast indoor court in Rotterdam, Soderling finally triumphed in a sadly-forgotten encounter of astounding shot-making and jaw dropping power.

4. Murray d. Tsonga, Queens, Final. 3/6 7/6 6/4
This was Tsonga at his mercurial best, producing the finest display of dive-volleying I have ever seen, Becker included. Murray was driven to the edge, but somehow snatched the second set when the Frenchman dipped, and then expanded into an unplayable colossus in the third. It was Murray’s first title of the year, and well deserved. And although he lost, Tsonga’s Queen’s campaign set his season truly in motion, including a tremendous Wimbledon effort just weeks later.

3. Djokovic d. Federer, US Open, Semifinal. 6/7 4/6 6/3 6/2 7/5
To an extent, the top three matches in this list are interchangeable, although all deserve inclusion for varying reasons. This was arguably the year’s most dramatic encounter, and also its most improbable. Who could have predicted that Djokovic would defeat Federer in the US Open semifinals two years running, both times 7/5 in the fifth after saving two match points? This time round, the two match points occurred with Federer serving at 40-15, and landing both first serves. And who could have predicted that Federer would bow out of consecutive majors after leading two sets to love, something that had not happened in his entire career? Djokovic’s forehand return winner on the first of the match points remains one for the ages.

2. Djokovic d. Murray, Rome, Semifinal, 6/1 3/6 7/6

It was May, and for the first time in the season Djokovic looked in serious danger of actually losing a tennis match. Murray, on the other hand, had barely won since January, having indulged in his annual post-Melbourne slump. The first set conformed to the form guide, but then Murray began inexorably to suck the Serbian into his psychic mire. Djokovic pulled himself free with his final gasp.

1. Federer d. Djokovic, Roland Garros, Semifinal. 7/6 6/3 3/6 7/6.

While (debatably) not as dramatic as their US Open classic, this one was unquestionably higher quality, and it had a lot more riding on the outcome. Unresolved narrative tendrils whipped fitfully, searching for satisfaction. With victory, Djokovic would have eclipsed McEnroe’s 27 year record for greatest start to a season, reached his first French Open final, and deposed Nadal as the world No.1. I have the full match on my hard drive, and an excellent highlights package, and the two are virtually identical for long stretches. The pace is staggering, the shot-making extraordinary, and the pressure, as the light died and the riotous Parisians realised that any fifth set would have to wait until the next day, was immense. Djokovic broke and served for the fourth. Federer, knowing he had to finish it in the twilight gloom, produced a colossal game to break back, and closed with a majestic tiebreak. His mistake in New York was to prepare only two match points. In Paris he cooked up three, and smoked an ace down the T on the last of them. Djokovic had finally tasted defeat.

Honourable Mentions

Djokovic d. Nadal, US Open, Final.
Gruelling, yet pedestrian. It might have been a classic had Nadal not faded so sharply, and had they hit the ball a bit harder.

Weintraub d. Raonic, Davis Cup, World Group Play Off.
This is what Davis Cup is all about.

Soderling d. Almagro, Rome, Second Round.
A minor classic, with a wonderful matchpoint save.

Dodig d. Nadal, Montreal, Second Round.
A stunning upset. Dodig has balls the size of cantaloupes.

Tsonga d. Federer, Wimbledon, Quarterfinal.
Federer cruising to a routine victory, when Tsonga rises to that rarefied place usually haunted by Federer himself.

Murray d. Haase, US Open, Second Round.
A match entirely on Haase’s racquet. As far as Murray was concerned, that proved the ideal place for it.

Worst Matches of the Year

Nadal d. Verdasco, Cincinnati, Third Round.
Just bad. And long. So very, very bad and long.

Djokovic d. Troicki, Paris Masters, Third Round.
How far would you go to not beat Djokovic?

 

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December 7, 2011

An Irresistible Urge

Ensconced in the window of my preferred cafe, I gaze idly out at the world flowing past, the river we cannot visit twice. According to my opinionated phone, the air out there is 20.4C, and eddying lightly from the north, invariably a portent of heat to come. The Australian summer is uncoiling itself with seamless and practiced grace, and this ideal day is already perfect for tennis. Nevertheless, the rhythms of a lifetime have taught me to associate flawless early summer days with the end of the tennis season, since my hemisphere has little say in the when and where of world sports. Revolutionary urges stir torpidly in my heart. Occupy the northern hemisphere! I order another coffee.

Tennis will be here soon enough. It is a scant three weeks until those ostensibly meaningful exhibition events in Perth and Abu Dhabi commence, and then 2012 is underway, unfurling and snapping tautly in the endless zephyr. Until then there are only meaningless ones, performed by hammy, weary players who short weeks ago bemoaned the godless length of the season, low-brow vaudeville for very good causes.

The rest are retuning their bodies. The miracle of Twitter means we are no longer spared the minutiae of this. Melzer’s body held up well today, apparently. Raonic is in Spain, Fish is in LA, and Dolgopolov is already in Australia, I think. Roger Rasheed is not a player, or even a coach anymore, but he loves to share and his vapid tweets are the stuff of fridge magnets: ‘Don’t play safe in life, that will only blunt your progress, take risks & surprise yourself – everyone can achieve if YOU are truely [sic] willing.’ Luddites are mercifully shielded from this grade of tedium. The truely elite, Rasheed’s willingly self-startled risk-embracers, have retreated to their beaches and pleasure palaces, and parlours, to count up their honey and dine on bread and money. Federer is doubtless in Dubai, Nadal in Mallorca, Djokovic in the Maldives. Murray is now promoting something called ‘road tennis‘ (of course).

There is, in short, nothing happening, so little in fact that the news sites have been reduced to reporting the confirmed entries for mandatory events, or the astounding news that Lleyton Hewitt’s wife is very important to him. The season’s end provides a long perspective, and the dearth of actual news leaves more than adequate space. With space and time in which to operate, the ether is thick with summation. We are invited to contemplate Djokovic’s year, or Nadal’s, or Fognini’s. What did it all mean? Lists of the year’s top matches and finest moments appear daily. Sports Illustrated did so, but forgot to include tennis (earning the eternal ire of Brad Gilbert and Darren Cahill). For anyone presuming to write about tennis, the urge to recapitulation is basically irresistible.

I do not presume to be above such urges.

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December 5, 2011

On Their Day, On Their Clay

Davis Cup, Final

Day Three

Nadal d. del Potro, 1/6 6/4 6/1 7/6

The final stroke of the 2011 tennis season was a forehand winner by Rafael Nadal, and it won the Davis Cup for Spain. Neither occurrence is especially rare – he has hit over 18,000 forehand winners in his career (probably), and Spain has won this event three of the last four years – and so it seemed mainly noteworthy that they had yet to coincide. Somehow, this is the first time Nadal has ever taken the decisive rubber in a final. It was easily the most remarkable thing to happen this weekend.

Of course, we have grown so inured to the top players winning everything in a straight sets canter that when Juan Martin del Potro galloped to a 6/1 first set, the betting markets lurched. Hope and dread rose sharply in each respective camp. Holding David Nalbandian back for the fifth rubber suddenly seemed like a masterstroke, instead of what it actually was: a colossal shame. Del Potro broke to open the second set, and everyone except the professional tennis players lost their heads. The pros knew that while Nadal hardly ever loses a set on clay, when he does that doesn’t mean he’s at all close to losing the match. He didn’t look especially panicked, and del Potro wasn’t celebrating, since he knew retribution was coming. The second set remained tight, but Nadal broke back, and went on with it. Then in the third he briefly took flight. However, the fourth was all del Potro, until he served for it, and was broken. Nadal served for it, and was broken as well. The tiebreak ensued, and suddenly the towering Argentinian was truly broken, ruinously, not managing a point.

Del Potro looked forlorn, or in the weary place beyond it. His year had finished precisely as it unfolded: he had returned to place where he could challenge the best, but he could no longer seem to beat them. Nalbandian probably can’t either, but he still looked sorely and sourly unused. The Spanish players were of course delighted, but not excessively so. They’ve been here before. They didn’t shave their heads. Verdasco and Lopez hadn’t the good grace to look sheepish, although it’s important to bear in mind that the Davis Cup is not just about the final. It is a team event played over the whole year, and everyone’s contribution matters. These guys have thus been dead weight for a long time, and it is a measure of Spain’s regal dominance that it hasn’t mattered at all. Indeed, as with all kindly monarchs, we should instead appreciate Spain’s magnanimity in providing a pair of lovable jesters for the halftime entertainment.

But as ever for even the most benign of dictatorships, beneath the veneer of jolly ineptitude lurks the threat of lethal force. Its enforcers are Nadal and Ferrer, who have proved once more that although one good player might win a tie now and again, two great players will put it beyond doubt. Spain is once again the Davis Cup champions, as they should be. On their day, and on their clay, they are without question the finest tennis nation on Earth.

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December 4, 2011

Thrown Under The Hooves

Davis Cup, Final

Day One

Nadal d. Monaco, 6/1 6/1 6/2

Ferrer d. del Potro, 6/2 6/7 3/6 6/4 6/3

Juan Monaco, in what he himself declared to be the most important tennis match of his career, was thrashed by a magnificent Rafael Nadal in the opening rubber of the 2012 Davis Cup final. According to the official Spanish line, rehashed with soporific frequency all week, this outcome was not merely unthinkable, but apparently unsayable. Only yesterday, during the second or third of his daily press conferences, Nadal insisted that his best hope lay with solid preparation, and hoping the opposition didn’t ‘get inspired’. In other words, he’d do his best, but when you’re facing a guy like Monaco it really isn’t in your hands.

The issue isn’t that Nadal says these kinds of things, or even that he believes them. It’s that the people he proffers these opinions to accept them, carefully transcribe them into their notepads or notebooks, and faithfully report them. One hopes they don’t believe them, but the fact that they don’t question them – whether at the time or in the subsequent article – does make you wonder. But then, what would be the point? If someone was to snort derisively and demand whether Nadal actually believed what he was saying, the response would doubtless be curt, and heavily favour such phrases as ‘respecting your opponent’.

After the match (the most important of his career) Monaco looked crushed, but that’s ok. Crushing one’s opponent is considered fair play. Conversely, speaking honestly and realistically about the likelihood of it happening is considered disrespectful. By this measure, the betting markets showed Monaco no respect at all. A successful modest wager on Nadal losing would have fed an Argentinian family for a month.

Given the inevitability of the trampling, one questions the wisdom of throwing Monaco under el Toro’s hooves in the first place. The hope, presumably, was that the simple joy of the activity would occupy the bull for some time, and would preserve the constitutionally-delicate David Nalbandian for the doubles and, if necessary, the reverse singles. Argentina’s decision was thus a pragmatic one, based on the realistic assumption that Nadal would not be losing this match in a fit. It was a long shot, but all their shots are long this weekend. Facing Monaco instead of Nalbandian put the matter beyond whatever scant doubt there was, although it did mean Nadal had to toil harder to assert his underdog status, his sternest challenge so far.

For his part, David Ferrer stayed more in touch with reality, although he forwent no opportunity to evoke his exhaustion, and to point out that just last week he was playing indoors on an English hardcourt. Both points are undoubtedly true. However, the implication that the transition to clay presents a titanic challenge is generally overblown, and the reportage has largely granted Ferrer the breadth of his claims. Somehow it is forgotten that he was still playing tennis on a tennis court in London, and not performing the Ice Capades on a pogo stick. As for his tiredness, it is undeniable that he did play in London last week, and none of the Argentines did. But he only played four best-of-three matches, and only one of those went to a third set (6/1 to Berdych in about 20 minutes). It was with Ferrer’s putative exhaustion in mind that I watched him overrun Juan Martin del Potro in the second rubber today, easily outlasting his opponent as the match entered its fifth hour.

Del Potro looked as crushed as Monaco. Ferrer was exultant. Spain was 2-0 up, having overcome Nadal’s lingering Weltschmerz, Ferrer’s bone-weariness and the unbearable lightness of its own low expectations. The home team was on the cusp of snatching victory from the very jaws of victory.

Day Two

Nalbandian / Schwank d. Verdasco / Lopez, 6/4 6/2 6/3

Whatever else happens, we can at least commend Argentina for getting one decision right. Playing Nalbandian in the doubles was the right move. Spain’s decision to play Feliciano Lopez and Fernando Verdasco – the dreamboat duo that served them so ineptly in the semifinals – was more problematic. If Argentina goes on to win this final, these decisions will be widely lauded and reviled respectively. Of course, their chance of winning remains vanishingly small, but Nalbandian and Eduardo Schwank have at least given them something.  The snowflake has returned from hell, but now finds itself stranded in the Upper Gobi.

Mostly what they gave today was unflappable assurance and technical solidity. This was not virtuosic doubles by any stretch, but it was a remarkably accomplished performance given the circumstances. The Davis Cup ranks among Nalbandian’s most coveted cups, and Argentina was 0-2 down, in Spain. This pair had also never played together before. The pressure was immense. Verdasco and Lopez, by contrast, play together a lot, sometimes in doubles, but could not have looked less cohesive.

The psychic lacerations first inflicted on Verdasco by Milos Raonic have since grown infected and spread to his entire game. Even at his best, baseline slugging was basically all he had, but today he was easily out-rallied by Schwank. Against Nalbandian he looked completely helpless. He was no better at the net or overhead. Meanwhile, clay isn’t Lopez’ best surface, but his lefty serve is his best shot anywhere. Today he was out-served by both Argentinians.

Spain will doubtless regain the coveted cup tomorrow, thereby breaking Nalbandian’s heart. Verdasco and Lopez will be there ecstatically sprawled on the court with the rest, having failed to win a doubles set in the semifinal or final, proving emphatically that the world’s best Davis Cup squad is Rafael Nadal, David Ferrer and anyone.

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December 1, 2011

The F Bomb

Reasoning that tennis might well survive my inattention more or less intact, I had paid it little heed since the Tour Finals concluded last Sunday. Both the sport and I were doubtless better for it. Sadly, my indifference could not last. With the Davis Cup final between Spain and Argentina fast approaching, it seemed imperative that I get up to speed. Some light googling revealed that tennis had indeed survived, primarily because almost nothing had occurred. It’s true that both nations had been availing themselves of hourly press conferences, but, depressingly, this did not mean they had anything much to say. Still, I could not help but be intrigued when the very first search result, courtesy of USA Today, revealed that ‘Argentina is already putting the pressure on Spain, calling the defending champions …’

‘What?’ I demanded. ‘What did they call them?’ Pussies? Imperialist pig-dogs? Whining nancy-boys? Eagerly I clicked the link. It turned out that Argentina, or the tiny part embodied in its Davis Cup squad, had actually just called Spain ‘the favourites’. Oh dear: the dreaded F bomb. Well it had to happen eventually. The teams could only pussy-foot around each for so long before fangs were bared and claws extended. The accusation of favouritism is a serious one in professional tennis, which in terms of sledging clearly has some way to go to catch up with test cricket or UFC or the average retiree’s bridge evening. (I was immediately reminded of a list that appeared in a British newspaper last week, arranging Roger Federer’s verbal barbs at Andy Murray from over the years into a veritable litany of outrage. It featured such vicious broadsides as: ‘Would you consider Andy Murray to be one of your main rivals?’ ‘No.’)

Obviously Spain are the favourites, given that they field a superior team, have won the event more than anyone else recently, and are playing at home on clay. Naturally, you wouldn’t know it from the Spanish team’s tediously over-rehearsed statements, which they somehow delivered with straight faces. Here’s world No.5 David Ferrer: ‘I’m very tired. I want to stop, but I can’t because I have the Davis Cup. It is a disadvantage because we’ve played more matches. We’ll be more tired. We have to change now to clay courts. The Argentinian guys, they were practising two weeks ago on clay.’ Or how about Rafael Nadal, heavily draped in excessive humility: ‘They have great players, all of which stand out on the circuit, so the only thing we can do is concentrate on reaching the final as prepared as possible and then hope our rivals don’t have an inspired weekend.’ That’s right: Nadal – probably the greatest clay courter in history – is actually insisting his only chance lies in hoping Juan Monaco isn’t inspired.

The commitment to achieving perfect underdog status has by now become so encompassing as to defy reason. Or physics, since the crushing gravity of this much self-deprecating horse shit will collapse in on itself to form a singularity, forming an event horizon beyond which nothing of the slightest interest can escape. I won’t pretend for a second that Team Argentina is behaving any better, though they are at least justified in asserting their opponent’s superiority, since it is beyond reasonable question. Neither Nadal nor Ferrer have ever lost a singles match on clay in Davis Cup play.

So the week’s build-up has led to nothing more than this. Two groups of grown men who have been so conditioned to cherish their own inferiority that they apparently cannot otherwise compete. The situation was delicately poised, until Spanish great Manolo Santana, who learned his craft long before the image doctors took charge, went and spoiled it all by telling the truth: ‘We [Spain] are superior on clay, grass, hard courts and, if necessary, even on roller skates.’

The Spanish team’s sudden anxiety was palpable. It was exactly the kind of wild, unvetted remark that risked firing the terrifying Juan Monaco up. Then who knows what might happen? Nadal beware.

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November 28, 2011

Astonishing Numbers

World Tour Finals, Final

(4) Federer d. (7) Tsonga, 6/3 6/7 6/3

Roger Federer has captured his sixth title at the ATP’s season ending championships, though it is hard to begrudge him that. For the fifth time he has taken the title without dropping a match, which sounds like an amazing statistic until we recall that he replicated that feat in winning all of his other titles, too. There are 64 of those, making for a grand tally of 70, from an even 100 finals. Astonishing numbers from an astounding career, although what was once a torrent has lately slowed to a trickle, and for a time ceased to flow at all. If asked, Federer would doubtless insist that 2011 has not been a disappointing season, thereby uniting fans and detractors in their scepticism. It has been a disappointing season for the sport’s greatest player, but at least it has ended in the best possible way. He has gone undefeated since the US Open, producing a 17-match winning streak, including three consecutive titles. The records are again tumbling, like a burbling, stony brook. History, which only stares backward but still misses most of the details, will doubtless elide the finer points of this run. But the fact that he has won more Tour Finals than any other man will surely endure.

There was, briefly, a fear he wouldn’t. He stepped up to serve out the match at 5/4 in the second set and duly collided with an iceberg, and after watching a match point evaporate in the ensuing tiebreak, there echoed a collective global sigh from the faithful legions, momentarily accelerating the thawing of the polar caps. The capacity for Federer’s opponents to soar to vertiginous heights where once they had dutifully plummeted has defined his year, finding grand expression in Tsonga’s improbable recovery at Wimbledon, and Djokovic’s moribund forehand in New York, a last-gasp shot fired from the gallows. All the signs were there again today. Tsonga, as he had at Wimbledon and in Montreal, hovered over the crevasse and discovered inspiration. Suddenly every Federer serve that wasn’t an ace became an invitation. The Swiss could not land a first delivery, and in the grip of a wild pride chose to direct second serves to the Frenchman’s forehand, whereupon they were pummelled, as a prelude to being taken out the back and shot. A 5-2 lead in the tiebreak returned to 5-5, match point stumbled in, and Tsonga’s forehand again escorted it away to be dealt with.

In Melbourne, it was just clearing 6:20am. Had Federer taken that second set, I could have collapsed into bed for an hour or so. He didn’t, so I roundly cursed his ancestors, and peered out at the grey Monday city slowly rediscovering its purpose. A delivery truck had apparently stalled out the front of my house, a situation the driver sought to rectify with only colourful language. I suppose things could have been worse. Then again, the experience looked decidedly better in the O2, where the crowd’s delirium fundamentally  favoured Federer, but proved sympathetic to Tsonga’s energy and endeavour if it meant a third set, further justifying the cost of their tickets. Federer is well-loved for the way he makes the impossible look easy, but Tsonga inspires affection for the way he makes the brilliant look fun.

As with the first set, the third set saw a pensive and passive Federer weathering constant pressure on serve. Deuces came and went, but Tsonga couldn’t win those crucial return points on the first court. This had been the pattern in the first set, until the Frenchman had punctuated a sequence of flawless service holds with one truly horrible game, ceding the break and with it the set. This was how the pair’s round robin match ended a week ago, and seems to be a fatal pattern. It happened again today. Apparently from nowhere, Federer broke. Tsonga’s best comes when he’s behind, but he basically sucks at level-pegging through a deciding set. A mighty shout erupted from Federer, half a second before it erupted around the arena. This time, he served it out at love, each point rounded off with a pumped fist.

We saw Federer at his most vicious against Rafael Nadal earlier in the week, but today’s Federer barely resembled that one. Partly it was due to Tsonga, who unlike the Spaniard will not grant him so much space in which to work. Partly it was Federer simply having an off-day. But mostly it was a question of intent. Tsonga loves to dictate play, and Federer for the most part allows him to, which seems to me a perilous ploy against so courageous a player, one who doesn’t resist the madness of inspiration when it strikes, who can rip a forehand winner down match point, and ride that momentum for a quarter hour stretch. They played eight times this season, including in the first and last tournaments for the season. Federer won six of those encounters, but I wonder how many he would trade for that Wimbledon quarterfinal. Probably most of them, but assuredly not today.

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November 27, 2011

As The Gods Intended

World Tour Finals, Semifinals

(4) Federer d. (5) Ferrer, 7/6 6/3

(7) Tsonga d. (6) Berdych, 6/3 7/5

As a rule, Roger Federer assaults the net with far greater constancy, faith and success against David Ferrer than against any other top player. Like all rules, this one has its exceptions, but today’s match was not one of them. The head-to-head between this pair has now progressed to 12-0 in Federer’s favour, suggesting that as tactics go, it’s a winner. I won’t pretend to have seen all of these matches, but I’ve watched the key ones. The most important of those was the Masters Cup final of 2007, in which Federer relentlessly bullied Ferrer from the court, and refused to yield the forecourt.

This game plan’s enduring efficacy means that Federer will surely stick with it for their thirteenth meeting, and it’s useful to understand why it works. Naturally predisposed to attack wherever possible, it is unlikely that the Swiss would ever be willing to sit back and rally aimlessly with Ferrer, who can happily keep the ball in for weeks at a time (although he will press an opening if one presents itself). Secondly, I suspect Federer doesn’t rate Ferrer’s passing shots particularly highly, for all the Spaniard has great wheels and soft hands. Thirdly, Ferrer’s groundstrokes lack sufficient penetration and heaviness to pin Federer back, the way a Berdych or a Soderling can. They also mean that Federer can take control of the rally, and work his way to the net. He rarely rushes in desperately against Ferrer, and I can barely recall a chip-charge. The upshot is that Ferrer runs a lot, and Federer takes each match pretty comfortably, even on days like today where nothing else is working that well. Because he isn’t sprinting forward like Tsonga, you are never left with the impression that the match is being decided at the net, but the stats afterwards invariably tell the tale. Today he won 15/17 approaches (although one of the two he lost was the point of the match, with Ferrer at his scampering best, retrieving a lob and executing a superb backhand past the net-stranded Federer). For all that Federer was ragged in the early going, he also faced no break points, and barely dropped a point on serve in the second set.

Tomorrow he will contest his 100th tour level final, and aim for his 70th title, and record sixth at the year end championships. He will play Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, for the eighth time this year, and for the third consecutive Sunday. In utter contrast to today’s match, Tsonga will be determined to wrest the net from his opponent wherever possible, notwithstanding that he was out-volleyed by Berdych in today’s second semifinal. But when it mattered, Tsonga hurtled forward behind muscled serves and volleyed with daring and virtuosity. With both men determined to annexe the baseline and the forecourt, tomorrow’s final will undoubtedly play out as a territorial battle, with the Frenchman’s ebullient and often reckless endeavour coming up hard against Federer’s easy brilliance and vast experience. There will be monstered forehands, and uncounterable serves. Backhands will be assaulted, and cries of ‘Allez’ will boom through the O2. For the first time in well over a decade, the final match of the season will be decided by attacking, all-court tennis, just as the gods intended.

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