He Just Can’t Win

Stockholm, First Round

Nalbandian d. Malisse, 4/6 7/6 7/6

Nine years ago David Nalbandian and Xavier Malisse met in the semifinal of what is widely considered to be the most dreary Wimbledon in living memory, a judgement derived in large part from the fact that they both featured in the final four. (The other part of the reason is that the tournament was little short of a gimme for world No.1 Lleyton Hewitt, which should never be said of any major.)

Naturally, our regard for Wimbledon 2002 would have seen a sharp revision upwards had either of those players gone on to forge stellar careers. The prevailing memory of drudging inevitability and pedestrian upsets would have been softened had it somehow portended mastery to come. It didn’t, of course, though to say so is to subscribe to the popular view of Nalbandian as a feckless wastrel. I have always found this view a little pernicious, since compared to most, he has achieved a lot, and would certainly have achieved more had he chosen his era more carefully. The fact that he can beat everyone occasionally does not mean he can beat anyone at will, and if his legendary 2007 indoor season enhanced his legend, it probably harmed his reputation in the long run. As for Malisse, he really is a feckless wastrel, and would be in any era. He is something like what Nalbandian would have been if he really had won nothing, if the Argentine’s essential streakiness had been condensed still further, such that his best tennis lasted not weeks, but hours.

Sadly, minutes was about the extent of it tonight in Stockholm. Neither player played well at the same time, and neither sustained their form for long. Malisse played better at the start, but Nalbandian was superior at the very end, which is when it matters, I suppose. Tennis matches are often decided by whoever wins the final point. It’s a funny sport that way. Despite all of that, it was a tremendously absorbing contest, although it is misleading to say you just never what was coming next. When Malisse moved ahead in the second set tiebreak, you just knew he was going to blow it. The same went for Nalbandian when he served for the match in the third. He also saved a couple of match points, most excitingly of all, but also most revealingly. Both men were striking the ball well by this moment, although it was Nalbandian who retained a clear head – his genius has always been for thoughtful point construction – while Malisse grew aimlessly careful, suddenly going against type. It cost the Belgian the match . . . perhaps. Usually he is more reckless, because more frustrated, and the result is much the same. Sometimes, you just can’t win.

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The Oft-Written Rule

Shanghai Masters, Final

(2) Murray d. (3) Ferrer 7/5 6/4

Andy Murray defeated David Ferrer in straight sets tonight, and thereby won the Shanghai Masters 1000 for the second year running. It is the Scot’s eighth Masters title, which is presumably the most anyone has ever won without also winning a major. Eight puts him one clear of Michael Chang (apparently), and equal with Thomas Muster (again, apparently). This was pointed out by Jason Goodall after the match concluded, and I haven’t checked whether it is correct. I do know, without checking, that both Chang and Muster have one Slam each (both at Roland Garros), and that this is one more than Murray has. I know this because everyone does, even those with the happy fortune not to be British. For those few who don’t know, Robbie Koenig helpfully prodded the discussion that way immediately, wondering for only the 200th time why Murray cannot reproduce his Masters prowess in the Slams. He is 8-1 in Masters finals, and 0-3 in major finals. This is not news. Meanwhile, over at tennis.com they are running this urgent poll: “Does Andy Murray’s play in Asia change your opinion of him as a Grand Slam title threat?” I only mention all of this since there is (apparently) a kind of rule that one has to. I could say it is an unwritten rule, but unwritten is the last thing it is.

The Shanghai title completes a clean sweep of the Asian Swing for Murray, which is unprecedented in men’s tennis, and only diminished slightly when we remember that it only lasts for three weeks, and that it has existed in its current format for only a few years. It also means that he has defended a hardcourt title every year since 2007, when he won San Jose for the second time. Granted, this is an obscure statistic, but it’s impressive nonetheless, and only enhanced when we recall that Nadal has never defended a hardcourt title at all. Say what you like about surface homogenisation, but the court still matters.

Tokyo remains the standout, most notably for the comprehensive drubbing of Rafael Nadal in the final, and the only slightly less complete mauling of Ferrer a round earlier. Indeed, the contract between today’s victory and last week’s against Ferrer is revealing. Murray clearly needs a rest. Tonight the going was tight until 5/5 in the first, with Murray scolding his box after every other point, when Ferrer succinctly demonstrated with flawless economy why he has yet to claim a Masters title. From 30-0 up, and having played a scorching point to get there, he produced three perfectly incongruous backhand errors, topped by a double fault. The end was still some way off, but it had suddenly lurched into view. Murray, grateful, was too shocked even to abuse his guests, at least momentarily. Indeed, the Spaniard’s backhand wing was little short of a liability tonight, which must have dismayed him greatly, since he is generally technically impregnable, with a great set of wheels. That said, Murray clearly knew something coming into the match, and he pressed and kneaded the backhand mercilessly. Errors duly leaked out. Breaks were briefly traded in the second, but the result looked quite foregone by this time, which is presumably what Murray was roaring at his box whenever Ferrer almost won a point.

Murray will now move to No.3 in the rankings, replacing Federer. It will likely stay that way until the end of the year.

Awkward commentary moment of the week arrived courtesy of Robbie Koenig, happily reunited with Jason Goodall. Apropos of an over-anxious let machine, Goodall remarked that,”It can be recalibrated. It does get a little sensitive.”

To which Koenig, forgetting that it is 2011, replied, “It’d be nice to make that sort of adjustment on my wife sometimes.”

A lead balloon has to be particularly weighty for Goodall to neither assist nor impede its progress, but he was wise in letting that one plummet of its own accord.

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The Spirit of Santoro

Shanghai Masters, Third Round

(15) Mayer d. (1) Nadal, 7/6 6/3

Ebden d. (8) Simon, 6/2 2/6 7/6

There is a great deal to be said for variety trumping power, for the idea that a multifarious approach to tennis might overcome a blunt determination to hit the ball very hard. Alas, there is less to be said in the current era, now that power and movement are nearly everything. Invariably what gets said emerges in a valedictory tone, a yearning for a bygone age, underscored by the plausible implication that such times will not return. After all, Federer’s play can be tremendously varied, but we’re deluding ourselves if we imagine he would possess 16 majors without his forehand, whose many variations are all on the theme of overwhelming pace. Variety will for now augment this, but no more. You get points for style, but the capacity consistently to move your opponent from the court bags silverware. By those lights, today’s results in Shanghai harked back to a past era, a day of triumph for quick hands, net-rushing, oddball drop shots, hard work, and whatever it is that Andy Roddick does.

Florian Mayer saw off Rafael Nadal in two sets that were straighter than the scoreline suggests. One year ago Jurgen Melzer took three sets to achieve the same outcome – Nadal due home before the quarters – with a mighty performance that is still savoured among the Spaniard’s detractors, and among Melzer’s fans, which is almost certainly a smaller group.* Today, Mayer’s performance was comparable to the Austrian’s only in the thoroughness with which the world No.2 was overwhelmed. Melzer’s victory was a testament to the wisdom prevailing at the time, which was that hitting hard through Nadal’s forehand wing would expose his questionable hardcourt-positioning. When power is all you have, such an approach is considered tactical. Lacking Melzer’s penetration, Mayer’s performance today owed everything to the strange feyness of his game. His winners find parts of the court you wouldn’t think to cover. It helped that he served well, and faced no break points. It drove Nadal over the edge, and he was fittingly broken for a second time to see out the match.

Mayer’s win was the biggest upset of the day, but it certainly wasn’t the only one. Matthew Ebden’s excellent run in Shanghai continues; he qualified, you’ll recall. He has now claimed the scalp of Gilles Simon, who was seeded eighth here, and might be an outside chance to qualify for London if he stops losing for a moment. Ebden is like an Australian version of David Ferrer, although he isn’t as quick, tenacious or swarthy. The Spanish version of David Ferrer saved match points in seeing off Juan Carlos Ferrero. Meanwhile Tomas Berdych, who was so imposing in winning Beijing last week, was swept summarily from the court by Feliciano Lopez, who served mightily, volleyed adroitly, and flaunted his bulging tanned thighs with practiced and casual expertise.

To cap it all, Bernard Tomic and Alexandr Dolgopolov – poster children for strange and anachronistic play – did battle. Sadly, tennis this freaky was deemed too disturbing for public consumption, and they were shunted to a non-televised court. The only thing to emerge was the final score – 5/7 6/1 6/0 – suggesting that whatever bizarreness went on behind those closed doors, it was Santoro-class.

* I find that public attitude to Nadal is more clearly delineated by age than for any tennis player since Andre Agassi (before the American attained the cloying monkish solemnity of his second phase). Baby boomers apparently have little time for his antics, and are always first to mention his endless skirmishes with his underwear. Furthermore, more than any player in the top 10, Nadal boasts anti-fans, who revel in his losses even more than in the victories of their purported favourites, an unhealthy position way out on the cusp of reason, and really as useless as slavish devotion.

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Wildcards No More

Shanghai Masters, Second Round

(10) Roddick d. Dimitrov, 7/6 7/5

Tomic d. (5) Fish, 4/6 6/1 6/4

Nishikori d. Haase, 0/6 7/5 7/6

The talk, as the Shanghai Masters commenced, was of how so anaemic a main draw might nonetheless provide nourishment for the rest of the field. Without Djokovic, Federer, Soderling or del Potro tending the kitchen, there are plenty of morsels upon which a hungry young player might snack. The food metaphor is close to collapse, so I’ll just come out and say that for those remaining in contention for the Tour Finals, there remains a great deal to play for. And for everyone else, there’s always plenty to play for, although this is especially true of the youngsters just making their way on to the regular tour. So far the results have been mixed (like a salad!).

Sadly, far from drawing nourishment, Grigor Dimitrov has again made a meal of things. The exceedingly long, and mostly inexorable decline of Andy Roddick has brought him the point at which he seems eminently beatable even when faced with a dewy-eyed youngster on the make. Many are fond of declaring that Dimitrov’s big break is surely just around the corner – they never specify which corner – but had he not lost today, I’m not certain whether beating Roddick would even qualify as such. There was a time when even if Roddick couldn’t survive Federer or Nadal, he could at least match it it with Djokovic or Murray. It wasn’t that long ago, but it isn’t coming back.

The young Bulgarian is a tremendously exciting player to watch, and I suspect aficionados of stylish tennis are desperate for his breakthrough to come soon. But he remains horrendously inconsistent, and his backhand wing is terribly fragile. Roddick directed everything there today, but I don’t want to imply that he was thereby pressing Dimitrov’s backhand. He was directing balls the way one might direct geriatrics on a senior’s cruise. Roddick generates markedly less pace with two hands than the emaciated Dimitrov does with one, but he can get them in, which Dimitrov can’t. It told a tale. Dimitrov belted some terrific winners, and made slightly more errors. Roddick steered clear of either (and steer really is the word). Dimitrov served for the second set, but was broken back and then fell away completely. I am left with the feeling that it was a performance of which Roddick might feel pride, subscribing to the erroneous idea that he was masterfully letting a flighty opponent beat himself, that a tactic of desperately getting one more ball back won him the day. It didn’t.

The same might be said of Bernard Tomic, who followed up his accomplished win over Kevin Anderson yesterday by taking out Mardy Fish, which is hardly what Fish needs right now, with sultry London calling. Tomic, in that rich tradition of bizarro players, is a cruel prospect when you’re having an off day, and Fish today proved that this remains true even for those near the top of the game. The 18 year old Australian was as composed as a veteran, and unflappable on both serve and return as the match wore down.

Kei Nishikori defeated Robin Haase in three strange sets, and has seen his ranking rise a provisional two places, although rankings are not official until the tournament concludes. On the face of it, this is not a big deal, until you realise that the ranking he has risen to is No.45, and that on Monday he will become the highest ranked Japanese male player of all time. Barring some unforeseen event, Monday will see the completion of Project 45.

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Man, Handled

Tokyo, Final

(2) Murray d. (1) Nadal, 3/6 6/2 6/0

The question of why a non-British person might support Andy Murray is a nice one, and when pressed most fans tend to give wildly varying, if not downright conflicting, reasons. Some point to his backhand, others to his his sturdy, pale legs. Still others appreciate his  calm and carefree demeanour. Whatever the reason, days like today offer something of a grand unified theory: when he plays like this, there is no one better. He dropped the opening set to Rafael Nadal, but then proceeded to eradicate the defending champion in a display so masterful that it must depressingly be termed Djokovic-like. He allowed Nadal just four points in the final set. If his play was nearly perfect, it was also perfectly judged, and the sumptuous verve with which he released torrents of winners will not only delight his fans, but will reinforce a dangerous precedent. There is a globally-cherished belief that Murray’s best chance at beating Nadal lies in remaining aggressive. Pundits implore him to do so endlessly. What they’ve forgotten to mention is that he should also do it well.

Broken-hearted, Murray remarked after the Wimbledon semifinal that he was now certain that whatever the question posed by Nadal, untrammelled aggression was not the answer. It was a clear admonishment to the tactless commentariat that advises Murray to press whenever possible. See what happens? the subtext ran. Leveller heads retorted that it wasn’t enough simply to be ultra aggressive. You still had to play well. They in turn pointed back to the Australian Open quarterfinal in 2010, when Murray pushed Nadal so hard that the Spaniard’s knee exploded. Now they can point to the Tokyo final of 2011.

The issue, as I’ve remarked before, is that the moment Murray’s aggression is trammelled, he grows pensive, passive and doubtful. From there, he finds it difficult to attack even when the opportunity arises, since he mostly lacks the transitional virtuosity of his immediate peers, even Djokovic. He usually comes out and either attacks or defends, but hardly ever both in the same point, and rarely in the same game. But then, every now and again, everything clicks into place, and suddenly his renowned court-sense is augmented by a deeper intuition. Like Djokovic, Nadal or Federer, he suddenly looks to be playing a purer sport, privy to hidden geometries, and fundamentally aware of every shot his opponent might possibly play. In the last set and a half today, Murray apparently had all the time in the world.

Whether this result will come to mean anything beyond itself remains an open question. After all, Tokyo is only a 500 event, if one of the better ones. If Murray follows up by defending his Shanghai Masters title, then his fans will be justified in their mounting excitement. Of course, justified or not, they are naturally excited already, and doubtless a mite frustrated that so rich a vein of form had to be struck in October, with no major until January. That is another thing they usually mention – how infuriatingly endearing it is, the way their hero seems always to peak at all the wrong moments. Some others mention family, which was brought to fore soon afterwards when he combined with his brother to win the doubles title.

As for Nadal, he made all the right noises in his speech afterwards, but you’d have to imagine this one hurt. He has now lost seven finals this year, and until now he could console himself that the other losses had all been to Djokovic, which may not have alleviated their rawness, but at least offered him a way of cordoning off the pain. But even Djokovic hadn’t fed him a bagel. It also keeps alive his astonishing record of having never defended a hardcourt title.

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These Desultory Months

Tokyo, Quarterfinals

Murray d. Nalbandian, 6/4 7/5

Beijing, Quarterfinals

Berdych d. Verdasco, 6/1 6/0

Notwithstanding the annual ennui afflicting tennis after the US Open, last year’s Fall Season was, by broad consensus, among the finest ever witnessed. (It is a measure of the cultural cringe pervading the Australian consciousness that I can so casually jot down the previous sentence, even as Spring rapidly uncoils here in Melbourne. Our Christmas may fall in mid-summer, but that doesn’t disqualify it from all the northern hemisphere trimmings, up to and including fake snow and jolly medleys about reindeer.) For whatever reason, the final few months of every tennis season inspire only dull anxiety in the majority of commentators, which this year has been sharpened by the certainty that nothing could match 2010, let alone exceed it. It was shaping up to be a long few months. Following New York, Nadal, Djokovic and Federer were all pretty beaten up, and their absence or under-performance would deprive the Asian Swing of some essential cachet. We may talk all we want about the second tier seizing its opportunity, but the big guns put bums on seats, as they say. When your nation only sees one Tour stop per year, you’d probably rather the second tier made its name elsewhere.

All the same, initial results have been promising. Last week, Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur arguably surpassed last year’s events. This week Tokyo and Beijing certainly have. Punctuated by inexplicable blow-outs – Berdych d. Verdasco was exemplary – the tennis has been mostly first rate. Murray and Nadal remain on course for the Tokyo final, and Murray remains on course for the year-end No.3 ranking. The Scot saw off David Nalbandian in the quarterfinals, a match that many anticipated to be close, myself included. It wasn’t especially close, in much the same way Nalbandian’s matches against Federer at Wimbledon and Nadal at the US Open weren’t. There is a psychology thesis waiting to be written on the perennial faith fans show in Nalbandian, even though it is now four years since he did anything truly outstanding. Nonetheless, everyone will talk up the Argentine’s chances in the Davis Cup final, since the fact that he has beaten Nadal before apparently trumps the fact that he hasn’t beaten him recently, and that they will be playing on Spanish clay. Mark my words, the bandwagons will roll out like a Panzer division.

Meanwhile in Beijing, an initial haemorrhaging of seeds has ultimately done the tournament no harm. Tsonga and Berdych will presumably bludgeon each other to death in the first semifinal. Both are playing imposingly well, with the Czech dropping just three games in his last two matches. He dropped serve in the opening game against Verdasco, and set about proving this to be the least indicative start to a match in history, winning the next twelve. Unintentionally hilarious as ever, Verdasco had earlier remarked that “Last year I lost three first rounds during the Asian swing, but my form is [now] like it was in 2009″. Cilic and Ljubicic will meet in the other semifinal, an all-Croatian affair, and a bit of an inter-generational showdown. It would be a nice event for Ljubicic to win, and on the apparently slicker Beijing surface, it is not beyond reason.

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Hopes Uncarried

Two 500 events are underway in eastern Asia, in Tokyo and Beijing respectively. To order them thus is to rank them by draw quality, which is hard on Beijing, since it wasn’t their idea for two-time defending champion and reigning Cincinnati finalist Novak Djokovic to pull out. It is interesting to note that the Chinese event is offering almost double the prize money of its Japanese equivalent, a gap of about a million dollars all up. Interest becomes fascination when we realise that notwithstanding its inflated prize pool, Beijing’s biggest drawcard is Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, whilst Tokyo managed to procure the services of Rafael Nadal and Andy Murray. Word is that Nadal’s appearance fee for Tokyo last year left little change from a million bucks, far outstripping his winner’s purse. Fascination thus begets cynicism, especially in light of Murray’s recent complaints that mandatory events hurt his earning power, since the Masters don’t pay players to turn up. Beijing gambled on Djokovic – the surest wager in tennis – and lost.

Anyway, on to the tennis, with no respect paid to round or locale. Andy Roddick is already homeward bound, pathetic when he needed to be bold against a rampant Kevin Anderson. Passive noodling worked back in Brisbane – I don’t recall seeing them spar since – but Anderson has grown mightier since. Roddick’s sour press conference has by now made the rounds. Depending on your prevailing sympathies towards the American No.2, you will view his retort – ‘I think you should retire!’ – as the greatest verbal riposte since Churchill, or as the latest boorish flare-up from an entitled brat. Or you may think it a storm in a tea set.

Grigor Dimitrov has once again displayed fabulous skill and flair in losing a close match to a top player. As he did at Wimbledon, he pushed Tsonga hard, but didn’t win. It is unquestionable that his big breakthrough is merely a question of time. The question of how much time is harder to answer. It might well be a lot. Bernard Tomic is the aesthetic opposite to Dimitrov, although he more or less matches the Bulgarian for mercuriality, with his results oscillating wildly from week to week. Last week he lost badly to Flavio Cipolla, ranked 95. This week he’s beaten Viktor Troicki, ranked 17, although Troicki won’t be ranked that high for much longer. The Serbian reached the Tokyo semifinals last year, where he held match points against Nadal. Points will be shed.

Kei Nishikori carried the hopes of his nation into the first round against David Ferrer, but no further. Japan is, for the moment, a nation with hopes uncarried, and Project 45 remains tantalisingly unrealised. Janko Tipsarevic has followed up his maiden title with a first round exit the following week – to the fabulous Dimitry Tursonov – a pattern that seems common among first time titlists. Put that one down to, well, Tursonov winning more sets than him.

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It’s All Gravy

Kuala Lumpur, Final

Tipsarevic d. Baghdatis, 6/4 7/5

Janko Tipsarevic was, until earlier today, the most notorious player in men’s tennis to have never won a title, a rankling accolade even in lean times, but surely gougingly painful in a year that has thus far produced nine first-time champions. Even Florian Mayer was in on the action. Tipsarevic dutifully insisted that his lack of a maiden title meant nothing – the mating cry of the perennial also-ran – that as long as he was winning and earning, that was all that mattered. We could say that he was merely seeking to lessen the burden of expectation on himself, but it is hard to imagine that he believed what he was saying, either. Did anyone? Bemused and sceptical pundits wavered momentarily. Were we merely imaging that sturdy monkey on the Serbian’s back, the one that pressed its claws deep whenever a title seemed within reach, the one that did for him at Del Ray, and crippled him in Eastbourne? It looked crushingly ingravescent, that expanding ape, but according to the man himself it was scarcely noticeable, and easily preferable to lugging around trophies, which is notoriously dangerous work.

After Tipsarevic had contrived to serve out the match – it took multiple forays, courtesy of a belatedly-dogged opponent, and the ceaseless ministrations of that monkey – it suddenly seemed as though titles were all the thing. Overwhelmed, Tipsarevic sounded like George Costanza promising his secretary a raise at the point of orgasm. First he promised Baghdatis a certain return to the top ten. Then he guaranteed the tournament itself that 500 status was merely a matter of time. Just so it is clear, neither of things lie within Tipsarevic’s new-found power to grant.

My stream went dead before Baghdatis could offer a rejoinder, although he was clearly in the mood to. Interviewed first, the Cypriot endured the formulaic blandishments with reasonable grace, but when the interviewer remarked on his wonderful season, he wasn’t about to let that slide: ‘Actually, I’ve had a terrible season.’ This inspired a throw-me-a-bone-here routine from the lady with the mic, and Baghdatis looked disconsolate and bone-weary and bored from having to engage with this crap at all. Throughout the match I’d been struck by his introspection, how lonely he looked, precisely unlike the brash youth who’d swept so many before him five years ago. Careers don’t always turn out like they should.

Still, Tipsarevic at 27 is proving it’s never too late. He leaps five spots to No.12 in the world, supplanting Viktor Troicki as the No.2 Serbian. His aim for 2011 was a top 20 finish, an apparently ambitious goal for a late starter only now getting his act together. If it has turned out he aimed too low, we can hardly begrudge him some caution, it hasn’t mattered anyway. Like the title he now has but never cared about, it’s all just gravy.

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Swingers

Bangkok, Quarterfinals

Murray d. Dimitrov, 6/4 6/4

The 2011 Asian Swing is only four days old, but already I’ve decided I can’t stand the term. Perhaps I should be clearer. The Asian part is fine. Indeed, I cannot fault it for accuracy. But ‘Swing’, that’s just fucking horrible, another example of that lazy dullard-speak that has crept into the sport, and should creep out again. Sadly, the opportunity for a less stupid alternative to gain currency has passed, and so we’re probably stuck with it. Various parts of the season are now ‘swings’, which presumably makes the players involved swingers. Nicolas Almagro won the so-called Golden Swing back in February, thereby earning the title Golden Swinger. There was even a trophy.

Anyhow, tonight’s match was officiated by Mohamed Lahyani, puckish and smirking as always. It was a pleasure to see him again, with his characteristic lack of solemnity for any occasion that leaves him open to the charge of being merely frivolous from the merely humourless. (On that note, I cannot remember him officiating any of Andy Roddick’s matches, or at least, none of the ones where Roddick goes ungovernably bananas. Roddick’s wit is renowned – those with no frame of reference rank him with Voltaire – but he cannot abide to have others’ wit directed his way, least of all on the court, and especially when things aren’t going his way. The capacity to take a joke relies upon maintaining a sense of proportion, and when Roddick loses it this is inevitably the first thing to go. The twinkle in Lahyani’s eye would be a red rag to a bull.)

There were no gored officials today. Andy Murray is more inclined to snarl at his player’s box or himself than at the umpire, and in any case it never came to that, since he was never in much real trouble, and because it’s only Bangkok. He’d prefer to win, assuredly – a title is a title – but he had less riding on the outcome than Dimitrov.

Dimitrov has a lot riding on this because, as 2011 winds down, he is running out of time to post the breakthrough win that he was ordained to make. Even amongst his peers he is considered the talented one. But almost all of the others – barring Berankis – have broken through to some degree. Dolgopolov, Raonic and Sweeting have claimed maiden titles, Tomic had Wimbledon, and Donald Young appears to be building on his US Open form. Meanwhile Dimitrov’s best moments this year have mostly looked like tonight, when he played Murray reasonably close, entertained greatly, and folded meekly when he needed to be tough. At 4/4 in each set he produced a poor game, and was broken. The second time, he smashed his racquet with, as Robbie Koenig might say, considerable aplomb. It finally brought the crowd alive, but it was too late for Dimitrov. Is it too late for 2011?

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Tender Maulings

PTT Thailand Open, First Round

(1) Murray d. Bye

Following a few brief weeks in which Andy Murray played little and complained a lot – endeavouring to draw from that vast well of public sympathy replenished whenever multi-millionaire athletes cry poor – he has turned up as the top seed at the PTT Thailand Open in Bangkok. Given the paucity of top talent in the draw, one imagines he is a certainty to win it, but really, given his recent comments, I suspect it isn’t a title he truly covets. He has earned plenty just by showing up.

Nowhere is it reliably disclosed just how much the top players make in appearance fees, but it is known to be significant, in the order of hundreds of thousands of dollars, an amount that can exceed the winner’s prize at smaller 250 events. Murray of course will not reveal just how much it took to entice him to Thailand this week. He has lately decried the mandatory nature of the Masters 1000 events, since these tournaments are under no compulsion to offer appearance fees to top players, who are obliged to turn up anyway. He also complained that there are no easy matches at the Masters, thus both getting the point and missing it simultaneously. The quality of the match-ups is why the Masters 1000s are the ATP’s premiere products. For those of us following the game, good matches are really the thing. We like them. Sadly, the irony is that the events so often fail to live up to their potential, although this irony is eclipsed by the fact that the Masters 1000 format is precisely where Murray made a name for himself. He’s won seven of them, and as far as I can tell he has made some decent money doing so.

Murray is due at the Shanghai Masters in a couple weeks, there to defend the title he won in such ferocious fashion last year, utterly mauling Federer in the final. Tender from more recent maulings, Federer is not showing up this year, and neither is Djokovic. Nadal remains on the entry list, but given his exertions of late there is every chance he will be a no-show, too. If that transpires, the responsibility will fall to Murray that the tournament does not fall to someone outside of the anointed top four, who have won all but one of these events going back to March last year, or 13 of the last 14. Given that one of those four always wins, it’s hard to believe that the match-ups are really all that savage, at least until they have to face each other. If Murray retains his title, he will move to within striking distance of Federer in the rankings. He will also earn about $88,000 per day, although this assumes a seven day tournament.

If it goes longer, Murray will presumably demand more cash. Among his more questionable recent contentions was the idea that if the US Open was to begin a day earlier, then the players should be paid more, for the extra day of work. Assuming that the extra day would not require anyone to play an extra round, I can’t quite see what he’s getting at. He would still need to win seven matches to take the title, or, more accurately in Murray’s case, six matches in order to reach the final and fold dismally. These guys aren’t on a wage.

Murray’s assault on the Bangkok title began with a Bye, for which he will pocket a touch over $6,000.

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