September 25, 2011

A Long Time Coming

Bucharest, Final

(2) Mayer d. (4) Andujar, 6/3 6/1

I first heard about Florian Mayer from my father earlier in the decade before this one. Some time late in the year – perhaps 2004 – the evening well-advanced, Dad was aroused from his couch-bound slumber to discover the television showing one of those interminable indoors events infesting the back end of the season. There was a young and curiously bird-like and fey German on court, with an awkward technique and lousy smile. This was one to watch, Dad subsequently warned me, and so I watched him. I agreed his technique was weird, and that he might well amount to something. He would surely win a title, and maybe reach the top 20. But Federer was happening all around us, and although the Swiss was proving that anything was possible, he was making it clear that it was only possible for he and his mates. Players like Mayer became part of the background, bulking out the mise-en-scene, providing the biomass over which the top players would roll on their way to glory. He never amounted to much more, and by 2008, when he fell to an injury-inspired 350-odd in the rankings, he was amounting to less and less.

Since then the certainty that Florian Mayer was destined to win an ATP title has ebbed and flowed more or less in lockstep with the vagaries of his career, although it is ironic that even as his ranking has soared to a career-high of late, that maiden title was looking less and less inevitable. Before today he had lost four tour-level finals. After today, he still has, but now he has a win to offset them.

He did it on clay, which shouldn’t really be his best surface, but always kind of has been. You would think his game would work on grass, and on fast indoor courts, and it’s hard to say that it doesn’t, but even harder to say what his game actually is. It tends to be called ‘funky’, and he is sometimes compared to Fabrice Santoro. But he isn’t funky the way Bernard Tomic is, though Mayer does share the younger player’s tendency to attempt an unexpected shot in lieu of an effective one. The comparison to Santoro is equally misleading, since the German is considerably more orthodox, until he isn’t. With Santoro it was all weird, all the time. Mayer’s rallies tend to putter along comfortably, until he suddenly leaps into a double-handed drop-shot from behind the baseline. You can’t teach that . . . at least, not legally. Today he proved far too able for Pablo Andujar, who didn’t play very well. Indeed, the Spaniard played too poorly even to be put off by Mayer’s technique, since in order to be put off you must be at least a little bit on. From 3/1 up in the first set, he won only one game, and he barely deserved it.

If, seven years ago, Dad had asked me to name the year and location of Mayer’s first title, I can say with total certainty that I would have come up with something sooner than 2011 and somewhere other than Bucharest. Still, it’s what weeks and tournaments like this are for. Even more strikingly, it is what years like this are for. 2011 has witnessed no fewer than nine new titlists, one of whom was Andujar. (None of them have been Janko Tipsarevic.) Technically speaking, Bucharest is not part of the European indoor circuit, largely because it is a clay event played outdoors. This means that, sadly for Mayer, his first ATP trophy is not an eternal outrage against good taste. Metz, however, is an indoor event, and it did not disappoint.

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September 22, 2011

Low Ebb

And so we have arrived at that point in the season when even hardcore tennis fans – historically a penalty for larcenists and false witnesses – find it hard to get motivated to follow the sport, unless they find themselves mired in Metz or Bucharest for whatever reason. The Davis Cup semifinals effectively drained whatever scant reserves remained after the US Open, leaving us groaningly supine on the floor. (Hang on, that was somebody else.) I suspect I’m not the only one whose determination to follow the continuing adventures of, say, Juan Ignacio Chela is at a low ebb.

Insofar as it gives us something coherent to look forward to, the ATP’s Asian Swing initiative can be considered a success, but that won’t commence until next week, and, unlike last year, it is doubtful whether a player of Rafael Nadal’s calibre will be gracing Bangkok. (For starters, he’s pretty dinged up. Secondly, his unlikely semifinal exit to Guillermo Garcia-Lopez from last year’s event – in which he blew no fewer than four thousand break points in the second set – probably retains some dire juju.) Anyway, even these meagre offerings are a week away, which makes the profound incongruity of the current events in France and Romania – really, clay? – even harder to fathom, and almost impossible to get aroused by.

With that in mind, and conceding that for most people the season has more or less ended – tennis will flash briefly back into consciousness for the Tour Finals and the Davis Cup finale – it’s worth looking at what the rest of the year holds. What are the things to look out for, the narratives to follow? While there are no more majors, that doesn’t mean the top players cease playing, even if some of them will not emerge from their pleasure palaces for some time yet. There is also a host of players for whom the slick lurid indoor courts of Europe represent the most attractive part of the season. And of course, there are the incomparable trophies, each a lavish monument to kitsch.

The most notable thing we won’t be seeing, at least until Basel or even Paris, is the world No.1. Novak Djokovic has a muscle tear in his rib, and will remain absent for at least a month. I think he’s getting married or something as well. Apparently Andy Murray will be his best man. Does anyone else find it jarring the way top players refer to each other in the press by their last names, even when they are close friends. Thus Djokovic will call Murray ‘Murray’ in his press conferences. Try referring to your closest friend by their surname for a day, and see how it feels. In any case, ‘Djokovic’ will be back just in time for the World Tour Finals. Winning at the O2 Arena will be a tough assignment without adequate match play, although this was a trick Federer used to pull.

Speaking of Federer, he will be the one to watch, since, probably for the first time ever, he finds himself in the position of having to defend fistfuls of points at the end of the season, courtesy of the sustained tear he went on last year upon hiring Paul Annacone. This run gained him three titles and over 3,000 points, but means that he has far more at stake than anyone else as 2011 grinds down. Of course, he won the Tour Finals in spectacular fashion in 2010, defeating Nadal, Djokovic, Soderling, Ferrer and Murray for the loss of a single set. If he doesn’t match that, there is a reasonable chance he will end the season at a modest No.4, although this will depend on Murray’s performance.

Of course, ‘depend on Murray’ is a phrase that should see only ironic deployment. I don’t want to imagine what will happen if he is in charge of organising the stripper for Djokovic’s bachelor party. (Actually I lie; imagining mishaps involving strippers is always worth the effort.) Other things to look forward to:

  • The dusted pink and purple court of Basel.
  • Players entering the court accompanied by naff theme music and light shows.
  • Delighting at whichever Frenchman brings the Paris Indoors to life.
  • Finding out whether Diego Maradona will again grace the O2 Arena, and if so, whether he will still have a cameraman assigned to finding him in the crowd.
  • Discovering whether David Nalbandian will realise his purportedly boyhood dream of winning the Davis Cup, on clay, against Spain, in Spain.
  • Whether the crowd in Shanghai remains as maniacally excitable as last years, when they gasped and hooted at every let, ballboy stumble or stray seagull.

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September 19, 2011

Suitably Absurd

World Group Semifinals
Spain 4 – France 1
Argentina 3 – Serbia 2

The finalists for the 2011 Davis Cup have been decided, and Argentina will meet Spain, in Spain. That climactic tie is still several months away, in early December, though we can safely assume David Nalbandian’s preparations are already underway, since – like Lleyton Hewitt – he thinks little of forgoing vast chunks of the season to better ready himself. Of the six or so major accomplishments in the men’s game, winning the Davis Cup is among the five that have thus far eluded him, and he has lately taken to claiming it as the one that means the most. Given that he can barely last consecutive tour events without requiring surgery, it’ll be interesting to see how lightly he takes the rest of the year, which will mostly be played indoors, in cities where he has enjoyed his greatest success.

Argentina reached the final by defeating Serbia, who are the defending champions. The vibe was established early when Nalbandian saw off Viktor Troicki with little trouble, and was sustained easily when Juan Martin del Potro allowed Janko Tipsarevic no sets, displaying the ferocity his fans had been expecting on the US hardcourts. Serbia won the doubles, but the real drama came at the commencement of Day Three, when Novak Djokovic took to the court, following a team decision to protect Troicki from del Potro. Djokovic was wounded and weary, but ‘my team felt at 50 or 60 percent I would play better than Viktor’. A real vote of confidence, bearing in mind that Troicki is not injured, and is ranked No.16 in the world, one spot above del Potro. Still, given the way the Argentine was playing, their caution appeared justified, although it turned out Djokovic erred badly in taking the court. He lost the first set in a tiebreak, and then, as the second set got underway, he collapsed to the court, and would not rise. His back had gone, and he has suffered his third loss of the year, and second through retirement. Given the tears he shed afterwards, this one was rather more genuine than the last. There was a perfunctory dead fifth rubber, which also ended prematurely with a retirement (this time Juan Monaco).

World Group Play-offs
Russia 3 – Brazil 2
Switzerland 3 – Australia 2

The 2011 Davis Cup has through its initial rounds proved lamentably short on drama, and so it is with some pleasure that I note that Djokovic’s collapse was merely the third most dramatic thing to happen today. As ever, when in doubt, turn to the veterans. Mikhail Youzhny won the Davis Cup final for Russia nine years ago, recovering from two sets down to beat Paul Henri Mathieu in the live fifth rubber, in France. Today’s win over Thomaz Bellucci wasn’t quite in that league. Youzhny failed to serve out the match at 5/4 in fifth, saved a couple match points, and then took it 14/12. Russian tennis has fallen on hard times, but they return to the World Group.

As do Switzerland. Understandably and predictably, the Australian team’s approach to this tie was to contain Roger Federer, and to focus their attacks on the far more vulnerable Stanislas Wawrinka. Neither Bernard Tomic nor Lleyton Hewitt was likely to upset Federer, even or especially on grass, although certainly neither would have refused a win had it been proffered. The upshot was that for the home team to claim the tie, they would have to take the doubles, no small task against the raining Olympics gold medallists. Adapting Peter Fleming’s formulation about John McEnroe, the widespread belief is that the best doubles team in the world is Roger Federer and anyone, but the Australian duo of Hewitt and Chris Guccione set about confounding the idea that one man can constitute a team. Federer was excellent, but the Australians were, too, and Wawrinka was much, much worse.

Day Three dawned with a moribund Swiss team writing themselves off at the merest prompt. Federer would probably even the tie against Tomic, but they equally knew that Wawrinka on prevailing form stood little chance against Hewitt, whose year had been leading to this and little else. In the end, of course, Wawrinka lifted mightily, bad light intervened, the Australians complained a lot, everyone returned this morning, played one more game, Hewitt broke himself, the Swiss won the tie, and the Australians complained some more. It was tremendous entertainment, and a suitably absurd end to the most engaging Davis Cup weekend in years.

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September 17, 2011

Are You Not Entertained?

Davis Cup semifinals are upon us, as are the World Group playoffs, both promising a measure of redemption for a team event that has so far this year produced little excitement. Frankly, 2011 has been a bummer, but the ties this weekend hold some promise, although I suppose they always do. Prior to a tie commencing, that’s about all you can ask for, even as disappointment invariably follows. Why are these things almost never as exciting as you’d hope? Thinking on it, I suppose that’s true for all sports, mirroring life.

World Group Semifinals
Spain 2 – France 0
Argentina 2 – Serbia 0

Both semifinals sit at 2-0, meaning that in both cases today’s doubles could complete a rout. In the case of Spain leading a depleted France – no Monfils, and Tsonga operating at reduced capacity – this is hardly surprising. The production is being staged in a broiling and dusty bullring in Cordoba that looks like an extravagant movie set, which was to be expected given the degree to which the entire affair has been carefully scripted both to intimidate the visitors, and to inspire Rafael Nadal. Though surely wearied beyond measure from his fruitless exertions in New York, it has apparently worked. Striding manfully through a climactic scene from Gladiator, and incarnating a Spaniard even more convincingly than Russel Crowe did, Nadal was focussed and merciless. Into this cauldron of virulent and macho patriotism ambled Richard Gasquet and Gilles Simon, a couple of diminutive and scruffy hobos looking for all the world like extras who’d wondered onto the wrong set. At least Monfils and Tsonga, muscled and magnificent athletes, would have matched the utterly martial vibe, even if they might not have altered the result. As it was, the crowd was rapidly whipped to a lathered frenzy by a home team that conceded only ten games across two rubbers. A full-strength French team might have eked out a set, but the overall result would have been the same. Today’s doubles might be a classic, and worthy of the venue, but Spain will not lose the weekend.

Meanwhile in Belgrade, Novak Djokovic – wearied beyond measure by his fruitful exertions in New York – opted out at the eleventh hour, foolishly presuming that Tipsarevic and Troicki could surely get the job done against Argentina. Or perhaps he didn’t presume anything, but wanted to rest. As it happened, he was either wrong or affirmed in his disinterest when his compatriots managed a lone set between them, succumbing meekly to Nalbandian and del Potro. The defending champions cling on the brink of defeat. Nalbandian famously values the Davis Cup more than any other prize – although any comparable prize is frankly beyond his means – and so it’s hard to see Argentina losing from here, although, if Serbia wins the doubles, the Djoker will remain the Djokovic in the pack.

World Group Play-offs
Australia 1 – Switzerland 1
Israel 1 – Canada 1

A world away from Serbian stadiums and Spanish bullrings, the World Group play-off tie between Australia and Switzerland is apparently being conducted in someone’s backyard, right down to the grass-court, which is delightfully old-school: lightning-slick, uneven and low-bouncing enough to satisfy any purist. Having said that, the purists would have looked on in dismay as Bernard Tomic and Stanislas Wawrinka evoked a by-gone era, recalling a pair of second-grade baseliners at Wimbledon in the seventies. Tomic, in particular, looked as ever like a throwback to the times when even pros could be self-taught, although it’s hard to deny his effectiveness on grass, since the more inconsistent the surface, the greater the challenge he poses. Wawrinka at least ventured to the net from time to time – he is a fine volleyer – although not so frequently as he chose to dump forehands into the net. On a fast surface with variable bounce, technical flaws (like not watching the ball) become exposed. The Swiss No.2 looked increasingly hopeless and frustrated as the match wore on, and, as many others have, eventually failed the Tomic Test. There is little doubt that the Australian team’s overall strategy relies heavily on the surface and Wawrinka, for all that Roger Federer is present. I suspect the home team have more or less conceded any single match involving Federer – although Hewitt gave a mighty account of himself – given that the surface so suits his immense variety and wonderful serve. But you would have to favour Hewitt over Wawrinka, which means that today’s doubles might prove decisive.

The tie is being conducted in a tremendously laid-back fashion, one not owing solely to the intimacy of the venue. Pat Rafter, ensconced court-side, could only look more relaxed if they gave him a rocking chair and a quilt for his legs, a stark contrast to Albert Costa and Guy Forget, who each spent most of their matches rocketing up out of their seats, in order to gesticulate wildly with less impediment. Federer and Hewitt have been engaged in a mutual-affection exercise for some days. The most touching moments were surprisingly supplied by Tomic, who remarked after his win that he’d opened so nervously because his idol Federer was sitting court-side, and that when they contest the reverse singles on Sunday: ‘I just pray he doesn’t like my game. If he likes it, I’m screwed.’

The atmosphere was rather more heated in Ramat Hasharon – which I gather is in Tel Aviv – where Israel is hosting Canada. Unless you’re specifically interested in the Davis Cup fortunes of either country – full disclosure: I’m not – the main interest in this tie resides in the return of Milos Raonic after hip surgery, and that his first opponent back was everyone’s favourite pro-tennis blogger Amir Weintraub. Israel’s No.1 Dudi Sela dropped the opening rubber in a savage five hour loss to Vasek Pospisil – an upset – and there was a widespread anticipation that Raonic would serve his way to a 2-0 lead. On his 25th birthday, Weintraub surprised everyone by lifting magnificently and winning in four sets. Word is that the entire crowd sang Happy Birthday to him afterwards. This is what Davis Cup is all about.

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September 15, 2011

The Right of Might

The last major of 2011 is done with, which for a vast proportion of tennis fans ostensibly concludes the tennis season itself. The truly committed – or those merely facing committal – of course know otherwise, since the Asian swing and the European indoors beckon, and even casual fans have presumably heard of Davis Cup, even if they don’t care unless their country is involved. Come to that we must, but first, some scattered thoughts on issues that have outlived this year’s US Open.

The two topics destined to linger are naturally Novak Djokovic’s continued dominance, and his improbable victory over Roger Federer in the semifinals. Fascinating though these are – and they have been and will continue to be discussed here and elsewhere at soporific length – this year’s US Open inadvertently promoted a couple of other pressing issues to the fore. The first concerns the Open itself, and whether a fourth successive Monday men’s final will finally see off the frantic, unfair and admittedly great-value Super Saturday ‘tradition’. Money, sadly, talks, and so far it has talked louder than common sense, which in real-world terms means that CBS’s broadcast interests have thus far trumped the contention that forcing the men to play best-of-five semifinals the day before the final was a pretty tough ask, especially for the second pair. Inevitably, if either or both of the semifinals go the distance, the final will prove a perfunctory affair. Super Saturday guarantees a Sub-par Sunday.

Abetting this outcome, the tournament’s first round is spread over three days, thereby leaving no cushion at the back end of the tournament. Lacking a roof , the tournament schedule thus goes haywire the moment inclement weather intrudes. Inclement weather has intruded for four straight years – thus the Monday finals, which surely don’t help CBS’s ratings – owing in part to altered climate patterns that have shifted hurricane season to the start of September. Common sense dictates that the early rounds are dispensed with as quickly as possible, that the men get a day off before the final, and that the USTA builds a roof. Financial realities dictate that CBS is entitled to maximum value for their product – which is the last two rounds – and that putting a roof on Arthur Ashe stadium would be prohibitively expensive even if it was possible. That said, I’d be surprised if the schedule at least wasn’t dragged back nearer sanity next year.

The second issue highlighted by this year’s US Open was that of ‘precautionary’ retirements, whereby a player would fall prey to an injury that wasn’t serious enough to stop him playing, but that he felt was serious enough to stop him winning. There was a time when this inspired a player to simply go for broke. Fabio Fognini demonstrated this principle to superb effect at Roland Garros, when he couldn’t move but he could swing, so he swung, and somehow won. Now, however, the player apparently can’t give up fast enough. Tsonga provided a succinct demonstration in Montreal, as did Djokovic in Cincinnati, and it is a bad business. Most relevantly to the Open was Janko Tipsarevic’s withdrawal in the quarterfinals, when, following two tight sets he sustained an injury to his thigh, checked out for a set and a half, and then gave up entirely halfway through the fourth. In all three cases – and there have been others – the player was fit to perform the following week, his capacity in no way reduced. Tipsarevic is listed to play Juan Martin del Potro in Serbia’s Davis Cup tie against Argentina tomorrow.

It seems to me that the ATP’s ‘lack of best effort’ rule at least deserves perusal, since nowhere does it concede that ‘A player shall use his best efforts during the match when competing in a tournament, unless he feels he can’t win or can’t otherwise be arsed.’ And nor does it include a provision for withdrawing from an event because the one next week means more to you. Arguably, Djokovic’s US Open win vindicates his decision to withdraw from the Cincinnati final, unless you had paid to attend the Cincinnati final, or you believe that there is a measure of right and wrong that supersedes the facile assumption that ends justify means. Rules exist to preserve this distinction, but not if they aren’t applied.

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September 13, 2011

Never In Doubt

US Open, Final

(1) Djokovic d. (2) Nadal, 6/2 6/4 6/7 6/1

When Rafael Nadal opened today’s US Open final by breaking Novak Djokovic with the utmost belligerence and moving to a two games to nothing lead, the writing was on the wall: ‘Yo te aplastará!’ it proclaimed. You will be crushed! Sadly, Djokovic commands little Spanish, and was thus less intimidated than he might have been had his command of that fine tongue been more accomplished. Ignorant of the peril he was apparently in, the top seed went on to claim the next six games, sealing the first set in a touch over three hours.

Incensed that his warning had gone unheeded – and uncomprehended – in the first set, Nadal ominously repeated himself at the commencement of the second. Again he moved to a two game lead. Once more the message was clear: ‘Upon subsequent consideration, now I will crush you!’ For no clear reason, it was now scrawled in Catalan, and so Djokovic was again less cowed than perplexed. He shook his head, set to work, and only four hours later, claimed the second set. There was a lot of running.

Vague and poly-linguistic threats aside, the pattern of those opening sets was clear, and clearly revealed that for all Nadal’s recent chatter about working out how to play Djokovic, he hasn’t come up with anything useful yet. Hopefully ‘serve poorly’ wasn’t his new secret weapon, although who is to say, given that his strategy back in Rome featured ‘junk-balls to the service line’, guaranteeing a broadly similar result. Most notable today was Nadal’s unwillingness to occupy his backhand corner, usually a second-home. How many times in the last seven years have we watched him dance nimbly around to unload on his forehand, inside out and in? The issue for Nadal is that doing so opens up his forehand corner, and that unless his forehand is a monster, Djokovic will probably reach the ball, and, remaining balanced even at the uttermost stretch, launch it into the open court. Thus constrained, Nadal remained shackled to the centre of the baseline, which inevitably brought his far weaker backhand into play. Djokovic saw to that. For all that their rallies – their endless, impossibly physical and brilliant rallies – varied considerably from point to point, each at its core had Nadal fending the Serbian off his backhand. (For a fan of Roger Federer, there was doubtless an almost karmic satisfaction to be gained from watching it unfold this way.) It revealed just how little control Nadal has over the depth on his two-hander, and just how his slice, even at its best, does little more than neutralise the opponent. For great swathes of the match, the Spaniard’s forehand – among the most feared in the sport – was only brought into play if and when Djokovic chose to.

The integrity of these patterns began to collapse in the third set, largely because Nadal saw how irretrievably proceedings were heading south. Compelled to change things up, he changed them up. True, he didn’t start serve-volleying – to do would have been equivalent to requesting Djokovic stop beating him with the butt of his rifle, and just shoot him – but he did grow more daring. Caution was hurled windward, and Nadal set out to dictate the points. It was a vast effort, among the most exacting and courageous I have seen from this most courageous of players, and all it allowed him to do was level-peg with the world No.1. Then, at 5/5, Djokovic broke anyway, and after only 12 hours of play, he stepped up to serve for the most meandering of straight sets victories. To his credit, Nadal sustained his attack. Djokovic tightened, the Spaniard broke back, and they moved to a tiebreak. The crowd were deafening, and Nadal was suddenly untouchable. Suddenly all the forehands were monsters, and he romped to the set.

The fourth set was a strange affair . . . but not really. Constrained by a slightly-tweaked back, Djokovic began to attack everything. The first few sets had been savage, but the physicality had owed a lot to the native caution of the players. Now, finally driven to it, Djokovic was actually playing hardcourt tennis, flattening out his drives and aiming for the lines. Nadal, spent from his earlier toil, was no longer fast enough. The final set blowout is not an unusual phenomenon in best of five matches. (It felt very much like the French Open final, when Federer grew unplayable in taking the third set, only to muster little resistance in the fourth.) After 19 straight hours on court, the writing was on the wall once more, but this time it was in English, and plain for all to see: ‘The end is nigh.’ Nadal was done, and Djokovic had done the unthinkable.

Novak Djokovic now holds the Australian Open, Wimbledon and US Open titles, and was only a couple of matches from taking the French. He has also claimed five Masters titles, and a few others. He has lost two matches for the year, one a retirement. He is approximately a million points clear of the field at No.1, and can longer be stopped from finishing the year in that position, even if he doesn’t hit another ball. He has defeated Nadal and Federer a combined ten times for the year, and today became just the second man to beat both in a single major. Surely, the Fedal Era is over. Some might wonder if the Djokovic Era has truly begun, but, really we should more usefully ask how it might possibly end.

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September 12, 2011

Wholly Sam Stosur

US Open, Women’s Final

(9) Stosur d. (28) S. Williams, 6/2 6/3

I don’t usually post about women’s tennis – entirely because I don’t know enough about the players, and it always pays to limit your scope – but I have to congratulate Sam Stosur on winning her first major title, and becoming the first Australian woman to claim a Grand Slam in 31 years. Here in Melbourne, the mood is pretty upbeat.

It was the most composed performance I have ever seen from her, especially when she was leading, which is her usual cue to go haywire. Given how poorly she performed in last year’s French Open final as the overwhelming favourite, you’d have to imagine today’s unfettered shotmaking owed a great deal to her underdog status. Playing Serena Williams in New York on the 11th of September was always going to be tough, but one had to imagine that however daunted she felt, the pressure on Williams was going to be comparable.

And so it proved. Stosur produced an immaculate first set, with her strangely effective forehand – does it have any backswing? – and vicious kick-serve scoring heavily, and her sliced backhand drawing errors from a sluggish opponent. The match turned at the beginning of the second – sadly, this will be the prevailing memory – with Williams serving, down break points. She saved the first with a typically muscular ace, and then the second, but carelessly screamed ‘Come on’ before her winning forehand had reached Stosur’s side of the court. Stosur laid her racquet on it, and the umpire had little choice but to invoke the hindrance rule. You aren’t allowed to shout stuff out during a point, especially when your opponent is about to hit the ball. Actually, the umpire did have a choice, but rightly chose to impose a point penalty. Stosur thus claimed the break, and Williams, true to form, dropped her bundle.

Her consequent harangue of the umpire – Eva Asderakia – was not particularly creative even by her own low standards, although it was presumably sufficiently threatening to warrant further investigation. Even Dick Enberg in the commentary box disapproved, with William’s outrage that that the umpire would try to curtail her self-expression – ‘I’m an American!’ – felt to be in particularly poor taste, on today of all days. She also told the umpire she was ‘unattractive on the inside’, a ‘hater’, and if they ever found themselves alone in a corridor, she ‘had ‘better look the other way’. She asked if Asderakia was ‘the one who screwed me over last time’, suggesting that her display of contrition after the last episode was as false as it sounded.

The unfortunate upshot was that it distracted Stosur at precisely the moment it fired up Williams and the crowd. The Australian remarked afterwards that ‘I felt the noise kind of go right through my chest.’ Thereafter followed a few desperate games, with the American expressing herself freely. By the seventh game, however, Williams had cooled somewhat, and Stosur broke, and then held in imperious fashion. Given her history of gagging while serving out sets and matches, she was right to attack her opponent’s next service game. Playing with house money, she fought to two match points, which yesterday was proven to not necessarily to be enough. The first was saved. Then, for the second time in two days, a scorching forehand winner return proved definitive on a match point. It was in, and Stosur had won. Her smile was endless.

Asked at the trophy presentation whether winning a Slam felt like she thought it would, she replied that yeah, it pretty much did. I’m largely immune to patriotism, but the bluntness of her assessment was winsomely Australian. I don’t know that much about women’s tennis, but I know that it was also wholly Sam Stosur.

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September 11, 2011

Favouring The Brave

US Open, Semifinals

(1) Djokovic d. (3) Federer, 6/7 4/6 6/3 6/2 7/5

Roger Federer was defeated in the US Open semifinals after leading two sets to love, the second time he has lost from that position in as many majors, and the fourth time ever. However, the inevitable comparisons to his loss at Wimbledon will be as misleading as they are tempting. Insofar as comparing two tennis matches yields much interest at all – and Federer is generally among the first to declare it doesn’t – the true precedent lies in the nearly identical match between the same men at the same stage of the same tournament almost exactly a year ago, a match in which Novak Djokovic eventually saved two match points, before going on to break Federer and serve out the match 7/5. To be fair, no one has been slow in making this comparison, either. The attractive thesis is that today’s loss thus draws together the two prominent threads of the great man’s decline, but why that should be important is hard to explain. In other words: so what?

If we look at the two matches, the similarities quickly pile up, but they still don’t amount to much. If we swap sets two and three today, the two matches are all but identical, both featuring Federer playing over Djokovic to claim a couple sets, and going down early breaks in a couple of others while the Serb lifted. Once again, it took until the fifth set for both men to play well at the same time. Djokovic blinked first, Federer took the break at 4/3, and stepped up to serve (last year he never served for the match). He moved to 40-15, and Djokovic nodded in recognition of this moment, his old concession – lately subsumed – that Federer just has his number. Federer played it safe, opting for a slider, but one that lack slide and width. Djokovic read it, swung as hard as he could, and produced the forehand of the year. Federer’s next matchpoint vanished in a mid-court forehand that found the tape. The margins at this level are minute, but the better player usually still wins, somehow.

For all that something occurring once is meaningless – einmal ist keinmal, after all – the idea that twice therefore matters doesn’t necessarily follow. Federer lost but he was obviously good enough to win, which more or less vindicates his assertion that he remains capable of claiming majors. Djokovic won, but very nearly lost, and will still go into Monday’s final as the favourite. All of this was known yesterday, and by restaging last year’s semifinal they have proved nothing either way. I suppose this is just a long way of saying that I don’t quite know what to make of it, and that I suspect that the wrong conclusions will be drawn. If Federer was a business, there would be an entire parasite industry based around analysing these supposed patterns in performance, and thereafter recommending sweeping structural reform. The conceit of spectators – and by extension journalists – is not far away. This is why Federer was invited repeatedly in his press conference to ruminate on the things he might have done differently, as though these are lessons that might come in handy when he and Djokovic next go 7/5 in the fifth in a US Open semifinal. He disdained to speculate, as he always does, knowing that even were the situation to arise again, there’s no reason to think it will play out like that. He was careful to praise Djokovic, but did admit that he didn’t quite understand Djokovic’s thinking in going for that forehand on 40-15 down. He suggested the forehand was ‘lucky’, which is predictably and depressingly the sound bite fated to endure.

The thing is, Djokovic happily conceded the forehand was lucky long before Federer did. It was in that part of the post-match interview before he started dancing with the crowd. Honestly, it was lucky, but that doesn’t disqualify it from being an exceptional shot. You still have to be brave enough to attempt it, and good enough to hit it. Saying it is lucky hardly contradicts Djokovic’s later elaboration that ‘I took my chances, and I hit it very clean’. It can be lucky and gutsy, brilliant and heart-breaking. It can be, and it was.

(2) Nadal d. (4) Murray, 6/4 6/2 3/6 6/2

Half-soused by the drama of the first semifinal, there was little chance the second match would thrill the crowd more than any other hangover. That little chance wilted to nothing under the baleful glare of Andy Murray, who apparently had a bone to pick with all 23,200 people in attendance, but particularly with the ne’er-do-wells infesting his players box. I imagine he’d be an angry, angry drunk. The first two sets were a sour and fuming effort even by his standards, the kind of self-consuming slow-burn that he usually reserves for finals. He was down two sets to love in in only a fraction of the time it took Federer and Djokovic to get through four sets: about eleven eighths. It was frankly a bummer.

Murray harnessed his rage more usefully in the third set, for a time overwhelming Nadal in a manner that would surely prove an issue for the Spaniard if it might only be sustained. Of course, it couldn’t. It lasted just over a set, after which point Murray returned to berating those loved ones who had dared show their faces, muttering mordantly unfunny asides to himself behind the baseline, and getting passed at the net. If the first semifinal was a divine comedy, the second was the tragedy of character-as-destiny, although this was – classically-speaking – a kind of comedy, too. So long as Murray wasn’t shouting directly at you, it was even kind of funny.

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September 10, 2011

Divertimento

US Open, Quarterfinals

For the third time in a major, the Big Four make up the final four, an outcome that was apparently so unlikely as to be unforeseeable, even if the odds on it were reasonable. Now that it has happened again – and it is a common occurrence outside of the majors – it of course looks inevitable. How could anyone bet against it? Recall, however, the widespread certainty that Murray would find a way to fall early – and he almost did, to Haase – and that Federer would struggle to get past either Tsonga or Fish. Meanwhile, Nadal was in lousy form and would undoubtedly face Ferrer in the quarterfinals, whereas no force on earth would stall Djokovic, apart from his right shoulder.

Six weeks ago, the odds on this semifinal composition were 5-1, conceivably the shortest in history (I really have no way of knowing). This was just prior to the US Open Series’ commencement, and it speaks volumes for the clarity of thinking wrought by a long perspective. It suggests that all the sound and fury since the Series got under way has signified little, a cacophony serving only to scramble our judgement. All of these disparate narratives, all that weather, all that drama with burned fingers, and bung shoulders, and early losses and losses to big hitters, all the decline and the pressure and questionable motivation. And where do we end up? Exactly where we did at the French Open, and largely where we ended up in Melbourne and London. It also means that only twice this year has someone outside the top four progressed to a major semifinal: Ferrer in Melbourne, and Tsonga at Wimbledon. I suspect that is unprecedented, and only signals that the statistical domination by the top four shows no sign of lessening, more proof that tyrants never tire of tyranny.

If the serfs are to stage an uprising, it is hard to see who will lead it. Soderling has glandular fever, Monfils is a headcase and Berdych is a robot. Roddick is clearly angling for a post-tennis career in the media. Consider this: across this season at the majors there have been 16 semifinal slots available, and these have been filled by only six different players. Meanwhile, there have also been 16 losing quarterfinalist slots, and every time it has been a different person, and that outside of the top four, only one player has progressed to the final eight more than once (Tsonga at Wimbledon and the US Open). The gap between the Big Four has become a chasm.

Nonetheless, treating the top four as a unit should not carry the implication that they are necessarily equal. After all, Murray has never won a major, and Djokovic has hardly lost all year. Nadal would appear to have Federer’s number, and yet has never beaten Murray at a hardcourt major. Federer beat Djokovic in Paris, but lost to him in Melbourne. It is therefore anyone’s guess how this weekend will play out, although the odds are favouring a Djokovic – Nadal final.

A few further points to divert us: This will be the fourth consecutive year that Federer and Djokovic will meet in the US Open semifinals, with Federer leading 2-1. If Federer falls in the semifinals and Murray takes the title, the Scot will take over the No.3 ranking. That is the only outcome that will see a rankings change. If Federer and Nadal progress to the final, it will be the ninth time they have contested a major final, but the first time they will meet at the US Open. If Nadal wins it all, this will be the first time he has defended a hardcourt title. If Djokovic wins, it will be his first US Open title, and he will become the third active player to claim three majors in a season, which used to be considered a rare feat. If Andy Murray wins, Britain will go bananas, and he may even crack a smile.

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September 9, 2011

Cynical Voices

US Open, Fourth Round and Quarterfinals

(21) Roddick d. (5) Ferrer, 6/3 6/4 3/6 6/3

Andy Roddick today defeated David Ferrer in four sets, as comprehensive an upset as the difference in their respective rankings would suggest, notwithstanding that it took place on a fast hardcourt in the USA. It was also a match with baggage, as so many of Roddick’s are these days. Ferrer of course defeated Roddick in that recent Davis Cup tie, on a fast court in Texas, which presumably explains the American’s reaction afterwards, as he lapped the court, high-fiving a sampling of those common folk he suddenly loves so dearly. The court was Court 13, and Das Volk were thus very close indeed.

The match had originally been scheduled for Louis Armstrong, but the initial promise of clear skies was rather undone when water began seeping up through the surface, owing to torrential rain augmenting the water table, and to the decision to build a tennis centre on a land-filled swamp. As puddles spontaneously formed near the baseline, a heated conference ensued, eventually arriving at the resolution to relocate to an outer court. Word all week has been that the outer courts are faster than the stadiums, although Ferrer raised no protest. As for the match, Roddick will doubtless fondly believe his win has silenced those armchair critics who dare question his approach, but the fact is that he played well, and with sufficient aggression that all parties can now tilt back and declare they told us so. He next faces Rafael Nadal. Tell him so.

Other than too much water and Roddick admonishing those with the easiest job in the world, the other story of the tournament has been retirements. With Janko Tipsarevic’s failure to complete his quarterfinal against Novak Djokovic – he could have played on, but by his own admission not well enough to win, a bona fide warrior – the US Open has now claimed the record for most retirements in a single event: 11. Aside from the volume, the most disappointing aspect has been the overall softness of the reasons given. Men’s tennis has very suddenly arrived at a point where it is acceptable to pull out while you’re still able to play, but don’t think you will win. Cynical voices have suggested that Tipsarevic pulled out early not only to protect himself for the upcoming Davis Cup semifinal – he confessed as much – but to spare Djokovic further toil, to risk no pointless injury to his ordained countryman. As I say, cynical voices . . .

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