November 10, 2011

Andante

Paris Masters 1000, Second Round

Precisely 52 weeks ago, the tone among spectators and players at the Paris Indoors was playful – alla scherzando – and the pulse of the tennis was a crisp vivace. The final Masters event of the year had laid down one of its fastest courts in years, and the indoor specialists were revelling in it. Confounding the fears of the mordant few, the slick surface had not produced a catastrophic return to the serve-centric yawn-fests of the 90s. The tennis was ‘all-court’, which is more of the court than sees use for the bulk of the year: Robin Soderling’s aptitude for serve-volleying is commensurate with his capacity for light-hearted banter, and he still won the whole thing. Afterwards, Bercy 2010 was widely paraded as a rousing triumph – the semifinals were outstanding – and happy proof that fast indoor tennis can be something to savour, even in an era when almost no one can volley.

A year on, and the tone in Paris has soured, which would have been fine if the talk was empty, and if tone was all there was. Sadly, there’s been tennis, too, and it has mostly borne out the chatter. The new court is slow – although perhaps less glacial as has been stridently declared – and the balls are slower still, which has allowed Jo-Wilfried Tsonga to pick up his ranting where he left off in Valencia. (His inability to pass Sam Querrey was held up as a clear reflection of the conditions, and not as a reflection of his passing shots.)

The slowness of the Paris court doubtless accounts for the trouble Mardy Fish had in seeing off Florian Mayer. Fish ranks among the more attacking players on the tour, primarily since he cannot keep the ball in play for very long. A treacley surface is consequently the last thing he needs, especially with a Tour Finals berth at stake. Thus disadvantaged, he dropped three whole games, and let’s not forget that Mayer has been in rare form of late. Fish’s London spot is now but a single win away.

The thing is, even allowing for the court’s reduced speed, and for the tendency of the balls to fluff up quickly, it has made little tangible difference to the results. The upsets you might have expected on a fast court – Lopez defeating Monfils – have still happened. Players like Fish and Isner are looking strong. Federer looked lethal, while Murray and Djokovic are spry enough to cover any surface slower than oiled glass. As I write, Roddick has just self-destructed, demolished a racquet, and then abused Mohamed Lahyani for not issuing the code-violation fast enough. That has nothing to do with the surface, since unlike most players, whose tantrums require a reason, Roddick’s just need a place. More interestingly, not a single match in the second round went to a deciding set – is this some kind of record? – although I’m not convinced this says anything useful about the conditions, so much as the late-season form of some players. In any case, constant babble about the court speed is mostly a distraction, a specific extrusion of the sport’s essential echolalia; background noise swelling into the aural foreground, but never quite into music. The tennis goes on anyway.

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November 7, 2011

A Quaver In His Voice

Basel, Final

(3) Federer d. Nishikori, 6/1 6/3

Roger Federer has won his second title of 2011, his fifth career Basel title, and 68th overall. In the scheme of things, you would imagine that this one has little to recommend it beyond being by far the most recent, but Federer’s tears afterwards demonstrated otherwise. It’s been that kind of year. He didn’t blubber – that he reserves for Rod Laver Arena or Rod Laver’s shoulder – but when it came time for he and Kei Nishikori to dispense medals to the ball-kid honour-guard, he was audibly choked. It isn’t so long since he stood among them. Afterwards, as per the tradition, he scoffed pizza among them. Winning Basel has clearly come to mean more to Federer as the seasons roll by, a quality it probably only shares with Wimbledon. The latter is hallowed, and the former is home. Now that he has cleared 30, those tears were as valedictory as the quaver in his voice when he promised to return next year.

There was a tiny moment in last years final when, desperate to break Novak Djokovic in the deciding set, Federer had muttered something idly to an attendant ball-kid, only to reduce the lad to nodding worship. Today he needed no such help, since his mere presence had apparently done the same to Nishikori. Nishikori had been frank in assessing yesterday’s win over Djokovic, confessing that he’d like to do it again when the world No.1 was fully fit. Nevertheless, the young Japanese had displayed little mercy in crushing his overwhelmingly more experienced opponent, the way so many others don’t when presented with the same opportunity. Most players’ initial response to receiving a gift-horse is to conduct a thorough dental examination, and then shrug disconsolately as the horse is led away. And it’s not as though Djokovic was rendered immobile, like Fabio Fognini at Roland Garros. Nishikori was just fearless.

Today’s final told a different tale. Nishikori had also mentioned how thrilled he was to be playing Federer. He probably hoped that the thrill would pass quickly, however, so that he could get down to playing tennis. I would lying if I said he never really got over it, since he looked to be hitting his straps when Federer stepped up to serve at 5/3 in the second set. Nishikori even gained his first break point. He didn’t win it, of course, and on its own it is hardly a missed chance worth ruing. His run had conceivably come too late. Afterwards he just looked pleased to be there.

He had, after all, been given the best seat in the house while Federer delivered one of his renowned beat-downs, and I sometimes suspect that this is what young players secretly hope will happen when they finally get a shot at their erstwhile idol. They want to know just how it feels to be utterly manhandled by the greatest player ever, how that forehand actually feels when he’s nailing it. In order for Nishikori – substitute Tomic or Harrison or whoever – to beat Federer, he would honestly have to perform well below his best. For their first encounter with him wouldn’t they prefer him at his best? Isn’t that part of why they’re so thrilled even before the first ball is struck? It was a measure of Jonas Bjorkman’s eternal boyishness that he felt the same even as a 34 year old, in a Wimbledon semifinal.

I don’t know how it felt, but Federer’s forehand looked again like the most ferocious shot in the sport, and his backhand wasn’t far shy of that. He moved well, and the serve remains as incisive as ever. He will move on to the Paris Indoors presumably invigorated, and with his house in order, to begin yet another assault on the Masters event that remains a strange gap in this resume. With Nadal and Soderling convalescing elsewhere, and Djokovic and Murray doubtful starters, he is arguably, once more, the man to beat.

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November 6, 2011

Of Floodgates

Basel, Semifinals

Nishikori d. (1) Djokovic, 2/6 7/6 6/0

(3) Federer d. Wawrinka, 7/6 6/2

Kei Nishikori has, in his quiet and enthusiastic way, figured among the brighter stories of the so-called Fall season, his achievements outshone only by those of Andy Murray, blindingly good in Asia, and Janko Tipsarevic. As with the latter’s unrelenting failure to claim a maiden title, Nishikori’s fabled pursuit of Project 45 – whereby he would become the highest ranked male Japanese player of all time – had developed into one of the most intriguing of the Tour’s innumerable side-narratives.

Nishikori broke into the top 50 for the first time in April of this year, and appeared to be rising fast. However, in the long months since, he twice rose agonisingly to No.46, before subsiding fitfully. Doubts were expressed, and much like Tipsarevic’s pursuit of silverware, the inevitability of the accomplishment began to look questionable. Then, three weeks ago, he reached the semifinals of the Shanghai Masters, and overshot his ambition by some margin, climbing to No.30. Again like Tipsarevic – who eventually claimed his first title in Kuala Lumpur some weeks ago and then almost immediately claimed his second in Moscow (and nearly had a third in St Petersburg) – the realisation of Project 45 has opened something of a floodgate. Today he became the first Japanese man to defeat a reigning world No.1. By beating Novak Djokovic, soundly, he has guaranteed a ranking of at least No.25 next week. If he somehow defeats the greatest player of them all in the final, he will climb to around No.21. Win or lose, I suspect he will be recalibrating his expectations for 2012.

Coming in to today’s semifinal, the prevailing odds were not kind to Nishikori’s chances, and. they saw little revision as the top seed tore through the opening set in fine fashion. Much will naturally be made of Djokovic’s shoulder, which received constant treatment and will probably see him withdraw from the Paris Indoors next week, but it hung together well enough for the Serb to come within two points of the match, with Nishikori serving at 4/5 in the second. There is such a thing a close bagel, with all of the games going to deuce, but today’s third set was not an example of this. Djokovic won about a dozen points. Nishikori was fearless, but then he usually is, and executed perfectly, which is an exciting new development. The dexterous net exchanges were superb.

In the final he will play Roger Federer, who didn’t have too much trouble seeing off Stanislas Wawrinka in straight sets, bringing their head-to-head to 10-1. It will be Federer’s sixth consecutive Basel final (eighth overall), and, should he win, his fifth title. Figuratively, we might say that he owns this event.

Valencia, Semifinals

Monaco d. (1) Ferrer, 7/5 1/6 6/3

We can literally say that David Ferrer owns Valencia, which means that we can assume that the event will have Hawkeye next year. It is only one of two 500 level tournaments that lack the technology, which some have called an ‘oversight’, suggesting it was on that part of the To-Do list obscured by a coffee cup. In any case, for Ferrer, the lack of Hawkeye has led to the worst kind of injustice imaginable: the kind that affects him. He thought he had saved a breakpoint with an ace, but it was called out. The dummy was spat, the overrule was not forthcoming, and the impossibility of recourse to Hawkeye was duly noted. Schadenfreude was forthcoming. Ferrer lost to Juan Monaco, who will face Marcel Granollers in the final, an incongruous line-up for an indoors hardcourt event, although it is the slowest hardcourt on the tour. Apparently the balls are flat, too.

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November 4, 2011

Burly Men Draped In Bedding

Valencia, Second Round

Querrey d. (2) Tsonga, 7/6 6/2

With five of the eight London spots in already claimed, the race for the remaining three is tight, which under ideal circumstances would mean that the contenders are giving their all, especially with a scant two weeks of the regular season remaining. The front-runners are Tomas Berdych, Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and Mardy Fish, and you could throw a blanket over them, presuming that burly men draped in bedding is your thing.

If tennis is a momentum sport – and it is – then it is worth pointing out that none of these burly men have progressed beyond the second round this week in Valencia or Basel, posting losses to Nishikori, Blake and Querrey respectively. I could say that they’re saving themselves for a final push at the Paris Indoors next week, but that would be generous, and is probably only likely for Tsonga, who like all Frenchmen generally excels at the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy, having won there in 2008. Meanwhile, 2010 surely taught Berdych – or the maintenance crew that keeps him operational – that scraping in to the Tour Finals on a losing streak is a recipe for failure. He was impressive in Beijing, but hasn’t been since. Meanwhile, Fish has never performed well in this part of the season, despite conditions apparently tailor made for his game. To be fair, he was compelled to withdraw from Basel after nearly hurting his knee.

Last year the final few qualifiers all gained their berth on days they posted losses. Naturally, qualification for London reflects a season’s worth of achievements, but it still felt appropriate (although Soderling claimed Bercy after that). Subsequently, none of them impressed at the O2, and although it was hard to blame them for not making it out of the round robin stage – the Big Four were untouchable – they could surely have acquitted themselves better. Glandular fever has wrecked Soderling’s 2011, and he won’t be in London this time. Andy Roddick is the other man missing, for the first time in years, and I doubt he’ll ever be back. If we are not to see a repeat of last year, in which Nos.5-8 were merely fodder for the insatiable elite above them, the remaining contenders had better find some form. They can’t all win Paris, but they can do well, and ensure that the round robin stage in London is more than a tune-up for the big boys.

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November 3, 2011

Basel Blues

Basel, Second Round

(3) Federer d. Nieminen, 6/1 4/6 6/3

Mayer d. (6) Tipsarevic, 5/1 ret.

The word is that Basel is playing fast, as it should, although the vision is that it is playing blue, which is a shame. Gone is that uniquely dusted pink and confectionery lilac surface, upon which Roger Federer – last year a lissom vision in lavender – gambolled to a fourth title. He’s now clad in blue, the court is blue, and it’s all a bit of a downer.

Something new: Federer has by now progressed through to the quarterfinals, and beneath the blue shell the real colour has been rust. Last night, something happened that has never happened before. For the first time in twelve career meetings, Federer dropped a set to Jarkko Niemenin. He still won, and the third set wasn’t especially close, but so ineluctable has the discourse of his decline become that even this will be read in that drearily fading light. To do so we must momentarily forget that Federer has barely played in a month, and that Nieminen has played a lot, but history glosses such details anyway.

Federer will next face the winner of Andy Roddick and Radek Stepanek. Roddick surely dreams of a head-to-head as healthy as 0-12. The American is 2-20 against Federer. Indeed, the entire quarter seems populated exclusively by Federer’s hapless whipping boys from better part of last decade. Now that Andy Murray’s on-again-off-again appearance is off-again – a tweaked back, apparently – the defending champion will surely fancy his chances to make the final. Actually, that last sentence is patently ludicrous, since the art of being Roger Federer lies in always fancying his chances, rust or not, blue or otherwise.

Something old: Janko Tipsarevic has again retired from a tennis match, the third time he has succumbed so this year. Justly or not, it has kind of becoming his thing, and part of the larger narrative whereby 2011 becomes the year in which precautionary retirements become sadly de rigeur. In any case, his latest withdrawal has prompted someone over at menstennisforums to a little archaeological work, and they’ve unearthed figures to reinforce the sense that Tipsarevic retires a lot. I suppose we knew it anyway, but it it’s always useful to have a number placed alongside these things. The number in this case is 13.5%, and it confirms that more than one in every eight of Tipsarevic losses comes before the match’s natural conclusion. We can place this alongside his career retirement Golden Grand Slam, an accolade that has thus far eluded even Djokovic.

I am fairly sure (without checking) that there are other players with worse records in this respect  (even ignoring Djokovic’s skewed 2011 stats, in which 66.6% of his losses have been retirements). But there is a reason we don’t hear much about other’s achievements in this field – and some are prolific – and yet are reminded constantly about an infamous few. It has everything to do with reputation. In Tipsarevic’s case, his notorious showing in the Eastbourne final has guaranteed that whenever he withdraws the reaction even from sympathetic fans is not one of surprise. The cynics, of course, have a field day. I am personally quite partial to the guy, and find his game attractive, but I feel my cynicism growing.

Nothing borrowed.

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October 31, 2011

Energy To Burn

In the end, St Petersburg and Vienna turned out better than they might have, testament to the extent to which the final match’s quality determines our appraisal of an entire event. A dud decider can negate an entire week of solid play, while drama at the death might inspire us to re-assess the tedium the preceded it, generously to relabel it ‘build-up’. I’ve been sick enough to distend time itself, but even so it felt as though both tournaments this week had a lot of build-up.

St Petersburg, Final

(4) Cilic d. (2) Tipsarevic, 6/3 3/6 6/2

St Petersburg witnessed a resumption of normal service, insofar as Janko Tipsarevic was back to his most characteristic, following a brief few weeks in which he was uncharacteristically at his best. Here he was losing a final to someone ranked lower than him, a habit he had made his own before the title-spree of recent weeks. He was unusually unadventurous, particularly in the sets he lost. Winning begets confidence in some, but perhaps Tipsarevic isn’t that way disposed. For others, favouritism can become paralysing.

Any hope that the second seed would be able to feed off the crowd’s energy was doomed to disappointment. The energetic parts of the crowd didn’t show up, and occasional shots of the sparse attendees showed they were not alone. The hall, at best, was half-full. There was also no commentary, further deflating the vibe for those who had stayed home. What those who didn’t watch missed was a fairly engaging tennis match, although it was the less ostensibly less-fancied Marin Cilic forcing the play, prising open the court. He and his players box harnessed whatever energy remained in the stadium, and he rode it to his first title in about 20 months, and a return to the top 20.

Vienna, Final

(1) Tsonga d. (2) del Potro, 6/7 6/3 6/4

There was energy to burn at the Wiener Stadthalle – which frankly is not best practice from an environmental perspective – and lots more people watching, and commentary: all the trimmings. Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and Juan Martin del Potro artfully dodged these pockets of combusting energy, and otherwise produced some energetic indoor tennis. Tsonga is naturally more suited to this surface than del Potro, but being French he is also more prone to doing dumb crap for no reason. Both were monstering forehands and serves, as you would expect, and it was the Argentinian who grabbed the initial lead, although he was never the same after he broke in the second set. From his subsequent play, it appeared as though going up a set and a break put del Potro right where Tsonga wanted him, and from there is was just a matter of the Frenchman finishing him off. It more or less did pan out that way, lending the last hour or so a quality of an extended denouement. Tsonga’s win bolsters his chance of qualifying for the World Tour Finals. I hope he makes it.

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October 28, 2011

A Week Without Music

If a tennis fan was compelled to choose a week in which to fall desperately ill – whatever affliction I was initially blighted with was soon supplemented by an especially heinous Egyptian curse – then this is undoubtedly the week for it. There’s no reason for me to care less about whoever wins Vienna’s whimsically named Erste Bank Open than any other 250 event of commensurate standing, but there you go. I do care less than I should, and I probably couldn’t care less than I do. The ATP website is trying to drum up some interest around Jo-Wilfried Tsonga’s qualification bid for the Tour Finals, and thereby lend the event some relevance, but their heart isn’t really in it. The same mostly goes for the St Petersburg Open, which is held in St Petersburg, although I suppose it’ll be amusing if Janko Tipsarevic claims his third career title. Alas, or thankfully, I have seen none of it, having been far too sick even to watch tennis, let alone play it. Perhaps it’s the medication talking – and late in the evening it croons – but I suspect that even in the bloom of health I would be hard pressed to load up a stream.

Why this should is so is no great mystery. It’s a lot of little things. The WTA tour finals are under way in Istanbul. There are no top male players in action for another week. Neither the Vienna nor St Petersburg events boast an especially intriguing history, unlike, say, Stockholm last week. There is a real sense that the Tour is marshalling its resources for a push to the end of the season. Basel thus always seems like a bigger deal than it is. It feels like the year’s final movement commences there (and in Valencia). Vienna by comparison feels like the orchestra tuning up, perhaps an unfair metaphor for the city that nurtured such symphonists as Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner and Mahler. By the time the Tour Finals come around we will be in full tutti once more, with the inevitably strange coda of the Davis Cup final to come, this year inflected by tango and flamenco. Something to look forward to, from this week without music.

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October 24, 2011

Fighting the Tide

Moscow, Final

(1) Tipsarevic d. (2) Troicki, 6/4 6/2

Stockholm, Final

(1) Monfils d. Nieminen, 7/5 3/6 6/2

Janko Tipsarevic’s first title on the ATP Tour was a long while coming, and for a time his quest for silverware figured among the more diverting side-narratives that liberally pepper the sport. It is worth remembering this, for upon claiming his maiden title in Kuala Lumpur last month there was every chance it will be forgotten, as so much is forgotten. Now that he has augmented that trophy with a second, in Moscow, that chance has become a certainty. The by-line that Tipsarevic was the highest profile player never to win a title was at the top of every commentator’s crib sheet, along with whatever book he is reading at the moment, but next year it won’t be.* The urge to preserve ephemera is of course quixotic, a commitment to fight the tide. But when the tide is one of forgetting, the fight is worth having. We save what we can.

Anyway, claiming his second title appeared no harder than claiming his first (and for that matter no harder than claiming Eastbourne in June, or Rosmalen last year, which he nonetheless failed to do). In the semifinal he defeated Nikolay Davydenko and in the final Viktor Troicki, with the former presenting a sterner challenge than the latter, as one might expect. Even now, I cannot come at the idea that Davydenko in Moscow is not better than Troicki. In any case, there is always a pecking order among players from the same company, even amongst a group knit as closely as the Serbs. It often bears only a tangential relationship to the respective rankings. Lleyton Hewitt, for example, retains seniority amongst the Australian player group, and his compatriots will mostly defer to him. Tipsarevic already outranked Troicki, which technically made him the second-ranked Serb. Today’s uncomplicated victory has assured us the abstraction of the numbers is now matched by the reality. You may recall that Troicki replaced Tipsarevic in the deciding rubber of last year’s Davis Cup final. There is no chance of that happening now, especially given the fresh trend is for Djokovic to sub himself in, even while injured.

Tipsarevic moves to a slightly more respectable 2-4 in career finals, Troicki: 1-4. It could be worse. It could be 1-10, which is now Jarkko Nieminen’s record after losing to Gael Monfils in the final of Stockholm. Mind you, Monfils can hardly gloat – he has improved to 4-11. That’s a combined 8-29. Really, they were all lucky to be playing each other this weekend.

*Highest profile male player, that is. Surely Kournikova will never be surpassed in this area.

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October 23, 2011

The Reverse Is Also True

Stockholm, Semifinals

Nieminen d. Blake, 7/6 5/7 6/2

(1) Monfils d. (6) Raonic, 6/7 6/4 6/3

One year ago in Stockholm, in the wake of a 6/0 6/2 drubbing at the hands of Jarkko Nieminen, it seemed clear that James Blake’s tennis career had entered that uneasy stage in which retirement is only a short press conference away. Far from drying up, the baffling losses to journeymen and one-time whipping boys had now joined up to become a thriving and self-sustaining wetland. While the similarly Lear-esque Hewitt continued to be thwarted by tough draws, Blake had devolved to the point where no draw could be anything but. No match was a gimme. Given that the end was merely a formality, his insistence that he still had good tennis left in him seemed equal parts deluded and perverse. And yet, perhaps he was correct. One year later, he has again lost to Jarkko Nieminen, but by the respectable scoreline of 7/6 5/7 6/2. The match was much closer, and it was a semifinal. I suppose that’s progress.

Nieminen will play Gael Monfils in the final, although he wasn’t too far from playing Milos Raonic, instead. The Canadian led by a set and a break, which on this surface and wielding his serve is usually the better part of victory. Tonight, once he had unaccountably faltered, it was the worst part of disappointment. From 4/2 in the second he won only a few more games, which would have been fine had he won them immediately, and consecutively. We can chalk this one up to inexperience, I suppose, or weariness, since indoor tennis is just so exhausting.

If I was to be fair, I might also chalk it up to Monfils, who generally ventures from his shell at this time of year. Less obsessed with being ‘entertaining’, he plays with more adventure and authority, and is consequently far more entertaining. It is almost as though he is usually concerned that the fans in the bleachers are bored by watching tennis played well, and have for some reason come to a pro-tennis match hoping to see something else, which is only true in America. Really, tennis crowds are generally pretty thrilled by good tennis (valuing it almost half as much as seeing their random compatriots win, which is sadly true everywhere).

Moscow, Semifinals

(1) Tipsarevic d. (4) Davydenko, 6/2 7/5

Meanwhile in Moscow, Janko Tipsarevic has progressed to his fourth ATP final of the season, seeing off Nikolay Davydenko. Davydenko held a bunch of set points in the second set, but he can no longer close these things out. It wasn’t so long ago that the Russian was the tour’s form player, seeing off Federer and Nadal in the same event twice in succession. He is now part of a long tradition in tennis of the career segmented by a grievous injury, and by no means the latest or the saddest. He struck the ball beautifully at times in the second set tonight, but he used to do that all time. No one knows why he cannot do it all the time now, except that it has something to do with confidence, a lazily capacious excuse that reveals less than it obscures. It certainly doesn’t tell us whether we will see Davydenko around next year.

Tipsarevic will meet defending champion Viktor Troicki in the final, guaranteeing that no matter how hard the Serb tries not to win, the guy up the other end will be trying even harder. The reverse is also true.

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October 21, 2011

Lurid in the Twilight

Stockholm, Second Round

Not all tournaments are created equal, even those luridly lit and putatively interchangeable events lurking in the twilight in the season, with their boastful courts and eyesore silverware. To those who cannot be bothered to watch them all – an exclusive category featuring nearly everyone on Earth – they probably all do seem alike, with little to differentiate Stockholm from Vienna, or Moscow from St Petersburg. It certainly feels like there are plenty of them, although a quick headcount reveals only six spread over a three week lead up to their apotheosis in the Paris Indoors. Of the six, only Basel is a big deal, although this elevated status will not outlive Federer’s retirement. Meanwhile, this week we have the richly-traditioned Stockholm – where grown men do battle in a blue gymnasium for a retro doomsday device – and Moscow, always a popular destination in October, whose trophy is unremarkable but for a pewter booster-rocket assembly on the bottom.

Of course, watching tournaments is the best way to tell them apart, and having watched the early rounds of Stockholm I can say that it’s been very good. This mostly reflects the quality of the draw, which I would contend is stronger than Moscow’s, stylistically diverse and cosmopolitan where Moscow’s is largely composed of baselining Slavs. There have been a few close matches, and the blowouts have been thrilling in their own way, for the way they have showcased perennial favourites doing what they once did best, and the best of the youngsters doing what they should do more.

Nalbandian d. (7) Dodig, 6/1 6/1

Blake d. (2) Del Potro, 6/4 6/4

I covered Nalbandian’s first found a few days ago – a taut, low-grade skirmish with Xavier Malisse – and it was nice to see a dramatic improvement in his play today. He demolished Ivan Dodig, which is by no means easy to do, in a display of flawless hardcourt tennis, taking the ball early, volleying with authority – I love the way he ghosts to the net – and committing almost no errors. Last night James Blake blasted Juan Martin del Potro from the court. Blake is one of the few players who can out-muscle the Argentine’s renowned forehand, at least on those precious occasions he doesn’t spray it everywhere. Del Potro was strangely restrained.

Dimitrov d. (4) Chela, 6/2 5/7 6/1

(6) Raonic d. Petzschner, 6/3 6/3

(1) Monfils d. Tomic, 6/4 6/7 6/4

Grigor Dimitrov, the most lauded of the new generation, although as yet the least accomplished, somehow dropped the second set to Juan Ignacio Chela, but otherwise performed with consummate all-court virtuosity, easily the finest match I have seen from the Bulgarian since his arrival on the main tour. The slick Stockholm surface is particularly well-suited to Milos Raonic’s power game, and after surviving a tough but tedious first round again Marcos Baghdatis, he saw off Philip Petzschner pretty easily, for all that the surface favours the German’s game, too. Dimitrov and Raonic will meet in the quarterfinals, and either will make a worthy semifinalist. On this surface, and given the relative weakness of Dimitrov’s returns, I would favour Raonic. Meanwhile, Bernard Tomic contrived to fade sharply against Gael Monfils, despite leading 4/2 with a point for a double break in the third. Suffice it to say, he didn’t take the break point, and thereafter experience won out, which is a statement I never thought would apply to Monfils.

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