60 posts categorized "June 2009"
 by Pete Bodo
You know women's tennis - or women tennis pros, at any rate - are in trouble when their players start using Grand Slam trophies as makeup brush holders, the way Serena Williams says she does. You have to wonder, what next? Using the French Open trophy as a vide poche? A planter, for growing tomatoes on your deck? A spittoon, if you travel in that sort of company?
Today at Wimbledon, Venus and Serena each took the penultimate step to a rematch of their final here last year. They did it so convincingly that even the customarily jaded British pressmen were left delivering eloquent encomiums impersonating questions pertaining to the outright superiority of the Williams sisters. Okay, so the British press is Wimbledentric, and wouldn't know Roland Garros from an obscure French aviator. But the way Venus and Serena - always lightning rods for disgruntlement or criticism - had them eating out of their hands confirmed the Any Questions? nature of the way they've been playing here during the fortnight.
It doesn't make much sense to try to analyze the way Venus dismantled Agnieszka Radwanska, or how powerfully Serena dismissed the latest WTA upstart, Victoria Azarenka. It would be like trying to write about how a massive tidal wave took out a tiny village filled with half-clothed natives (which is exactly what Wimbledon village itself looks like, in the midst of this heat wave), or wasting adjectives on the explosion of a power plant that leveled four square miles of shopping malls, car dealerships and apartment towers. How many synonyms are there for "commanding" or "powerful" or "awesome?"
On Thursday, Venus plays Dinara Safina and Serena will meet Elena Dementieva, with the finals berths on offer. It's pretty hard to imagine that Wimbledon will have its first all-Russian final; more likely that Wimbledon will see a two-for-the-price-of-one execution.
One of the themes emerging from this edition of the Championships is that the Williamses may have gotten better with age, even as they've had to struggle with (or simply endure) waning motivation as the siren song of "normal" life has lured them toward the shoals of inconsistency. The girls may not be as reliably destructive as they once were, but when they paint on their game faces, they may be playing the best tennis either of them has ever conjured up. This may not be true at all tournaments, either, but if you're going to pick one event at which to go medieval on your rivals, this one would be it.
We know for a fact that Serena had lain in ambush, waiting for Azarenka for a few months now, ever since the hot-headed and increasingly hot-handed Belarusian by way of Scottsdale, Ariz., snatched the Key Biscayne title out of her hands. This we know because Serena admitted as much in the presser after she took Azarenka to the Williams family woodshed for a 6-2, 6-3 beating.
"Well, you know, I really wanted to do well today," Serena admitted. "I didn't do well the last time we played. I was not feeling great. And, uhm, you know, I felt like I really wanted to show up today."
And while Venus had no such grudge against Radwanska, she was just as harsh with the willow switch, even though she gave up two more games than did Serena, winning 6-1, 6-2.
That tells me Aggie better watch out when she next meets Venus, just in case the older Williams sister took it personally.
 We know the Williams sisters well enough by now to understand that as stony and opaque they can be on the heels of a loss or a particularly tough match, they're relaxed and, if not exactly verbose, at least amiable and light-hearted when they win. Either of them would have been justified doing standup comedy when the post-mortems were being conducted today. Venus was asked to recall the night she played her first pro match, in Oakland, Calif., and the outstanding thing she recalled was that as she arrived at the venue she realized that she'd left all her tennis clothes laid out on the bed back at the hotel.
It's been a long time since that wild-card appearance in 1994, and Venus has matured a good deal. Given her obvious physical gifts - starting with that impressive, lean frame - it's easy to overlook how many other components are required for the degree of success she's had. We tend not to contemplate these factors, perhaps because Venus' God-given advantage already appears to give her a formidable edge. For one thing, it takes enormous resilience (as well as basic emotional stability) to dig yourself out of some of the career holes she's fallen into. For another, a mastery of strategy doesn't necessarily involve chalkboards, a blizzard of diagrams and X's and O's. Most hugely accomplished people will tell you that it's not all that complicated: success consists mostly of a kind of shrewdness that enables you to remain true to yourself and resist the burgeoning temptation to complicate things - whether it's because of pressure from others, or your own impulse to teach yourself a lesson.
Ultimately, success is about knowing what you want and figuring out a way to get it, and that's a pretty good description of how Venus and Serena approach their tennis. As Venus said, when she was asked to describe her style of play: "Just very aggressive. There's more room for error than maybe before, but just very aggressive. I do have strategy. Maybe it doesn't look like it, but I do. I think that's my secret weapon, that it doesn't look like I'm thinking, but I am."
That's about as close to getting philosophical as either of the sisters will go and that's probably a good thing. Nostalgia is something else, although Serena made a point of explaining that she doesn't really want to stop to smell the tennis roses until her career is done - that's when she'll take those trophies, remove the makeup brushes, dust, polish, and line them up on the credenza. Still, I pressed the issue with a simple question: Does she consider herself a better player than she was during those glorious "Serena Slam" years (2002-'03)?
She said, "I think, you know, you can't be just a shot-maker, just a power maker, and win any Grand Slams. I think it definitely takes, you know, a lot of strategy and strategic moves. Definitely underestimated, but it's fine."
It was an interesting remark, given what Venus had said earlier. Perhaps the girls huddled over Venus' interview transcript between pressers, and decided to cover some of the same turf.
The Williams have never been much for verbal smack downs, even when they're too busy berating themselves when they ought to be praising opponents. They do have a pretty good feel for innuendo, but the acerbic or trenchant quip has never been their domain. But when Serena was asked which trophies make the best makeup-brush holders, she didn't miss a beat:
"My Indian Wells '03 (smiling). Or was it '01? Whatever year that was."
Ouch! It was '01, Serena, but we know that for someone like you, they all tend to run together.
by Pete Bodo
It isn't often that you get to experience an opening and closing ceremony at the same time, but that's what happened at Wimbledon yesterday, as the All-England Club finally got to play with its new roof (any of you who grew up with Tinker Toys will know how tempting that is). They closed the roof it late in the afternoon, probably after offering multiple prayers and a Nez Perce rain dance, when at long last a few tiny and torpid raindrops were detected falling from the skies somewhere in the vicinity of Croydon.
Dinara Safina and Amelie Mauresmo were whisked off the Centre Court and the laborious process began; by the time the roof rolled closed, you were unwise to step outside without your Ray-Bans. But, because of the elaborate "moisture management" system (which, wisely, is employed to keep the turf from sweating and becoming more like March ice than well-packed sod), the girls had to wait a fairly long time before they were allowed to finish. Finally, though, the new roof was tried, tested and found suitable under real-world conditions.
Thus, Andy Murray and Stanislas Wawrinka (Red Nose, if you prefer his Nez Perce name) got to play the first full match under the new roof. I was otherwise occupied for the first two sets of that one, and didn't get to experience life under the semi-translucent skin (the roof reminds me of those accordion-type shades made of stiff Japanese paper) until they were well into the third set - with Stan the Man belting the living hail out of every ball Murray sent his way, while England's darling looked more and more like he was going to revert to the mopey, self-censuring, borderline-whiny Andy Murray of many moons ago.
The first thing I noticed when I skipped up the steps of Centre Court to the press section was the blast of cold air. This was welcome, given that the day had been hot and muggy, not unlike a typical first-week day at the U.S. Open. I quickly realized this was the product of the unique "moisture management" system that keeps the grass acceptably dry when the roof is closed, but the real cause for rejoicing was this: The British have finally discovered air-conditioning. Hallelujah!
The ambiance inside is hard to describe, although I think those broadcast images did a fair job, showing the Centre Court as a translucent jellyfish afloat in a dark sea surrounded by phosphorescent, winking city lights. What struck me, and brought a smile to my face, was the luminous atmosphere under the roof. Everybody in the place seemed transported, also afloat, but in this case somewhere between the extremes of gap-jawed wonder and sheer joy. The mood was only interrupted when Murray flubbed a forehand or made a hash out of a drop shot, at which time everyone forgot the enchantment of simply being there and reverted to weeping and the gnashing of teeth.
However, when Murray hit a winner or won a key game, the applause was nearly deafening, and sounded most like giant breakers crashing on a gravel beach. By the third set, this was a night match played not in some indoor stadium last inhabited by a heavy metal rock outfit, but in an ethereal bubble. I half--expected to see angels floating around as fans cried out, "Come on, Andy!"
 But tennis is a game of angels and demons, and if the former never quite showed themselves, Wawrinka did a fair impersonation of a demon, tormenting the putative local hero (if the whole of the United Kingdom can be described as a locality) with fiercely ripped one-handed backhands and prodigious forehands. Wawrinka showed no compunctions about spoiling the British tent party, but that's a role for which this stoic, stone-faced ball-clubber seems suited. Wawrinka has a talent for making tennis look like hard labor, and all that effort seems to collect in his capillaries and rush to his nose, lighting it red as a traffic light. A cagey opponent would be wise to watch Wawrinka's nose closely, in order to judge his degree of resolve by the shade of redness.
Andy Murray is nothing if not a cagey player. And that was amply displayed once again. For most of the match, he seemed to embrace a rope-a-dope strategy, going right at either of Wawrinka's wings in long cross-court exchanges, as if sending the message, Is that all you got? Here, try this! This is a pretty good approach against a player like Wawrinka, who is all too easily drawn into a hitting contest. The hitter is seduced and carried along on a wave of I'm the Man confidence and exuberance, ignoring the rueful fact that every wave is destined to crash and vaporize. To Wawrinka's credit, he rode high and he rode long, and in the end he was less a victim of his own power (as is so often the case) than of a few critical lapses (falling behind 0-3 in a fifth set is never a good idea) combined with Murray's crafty ways.
My favorite trick of Murray's was performed in the fourth set when, after failing to goad Wawrinka into an error of exuberance, he seemed to have a profound change of heart and threw in a strange, semi-sliced faux drop shot that landed right around the service T on Wawrinka's side. Having insufficiently exercised his forehand muscle in the power rally that preceded the shot, Wawrinka steamed in, took a huge cut, and drove the ball smack into the net.
After the match, Murray said that no matter what anyone else was feeling, comfort-wise, he found the court very humid - so much so that both he and Wawrinka requested the fluffier, white towels used in the locker room, because the perspiration was so heavy on their hands. "It was like, you know, I'd been in a bath. It was very, very humid. Because of that, the court played heavier. I got very few free points from my serve when it did go in. You know, you can really swing very hard at the ball and it can go in the net or it doesn't really go anywhere."
Well, you sure fooled me - from where I sat the rallies looked positively atomic.
Just a few minutes ago I came across Neil Harman of The Times, nattily dressed in coat and tie, being interviewed for television. He was beaming: The interviewer asked, "Was this Murray's best match, ever?" It's been like that all around here this morning, and all around town, too. I understand that the London streets were nearly deserted last night while the match was on. Andy Murray fever is raging.
I didn't linger to hear Neil's reply, but with no disrespect toward Roger Federer or any of the other seven men still in the tournament, it would be fun to see Murray win this thing. Not for Scotland. Not for England. Not for Wimbledon, but for Neil.
As at 1pm ET, an Overflow is up - Andrew
Overflow
by Pete Bodo
Devin Britton is a lanky 18-year-old from the sultry precincts of Brandon, Miss., a state in the deep south best known to sports fans as the ancestral home of the frères Manning, Peyton and Eli. For fans who prefer their violence imagined rather than observed, Mississippi is also the birthplace of the Nobel-Prize winning author William Faulkner. The state flower is the fragrant Magnolia, and the official state fish (who knew there was such a thing?) is the largemouth bass, a pugnacious rascal that eats anything that doesn't eat it first.
Southerners can be a fiercely proud, stubborn lot, imperturbable and not easily discouraged or cowed by the conventional wisdom, especially of the kind that emanates from more cosmopolitan precincts, like pretty much anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line. I'm not sure this explains why Britton, the best young tennis player to come out of Mississippi in many years, insists on pursing the allegedly passé serve-and-volley game, but he does, and with a degree of fearless resolve that might impress anyone with a trucker's tan and a bumper sticker that reads, Git 'Er Done!
In May, Britton - a freshman at Ole Miss (the University of Mississippi) - became the youngest-ever NCAA singles champion, and he's played well enough since then to be the object of intense interest in the shark tank of pro tennis. So I decided to go out and see for myself, trusting that the big guns of the pro game would easily blow apart their challengers on the day when Wimbledon offered up a menu that might persuade the most gluttonous of tennis gourmand to belch and push back from the table.
Britton was on Court 19, a show court only in the sense that a fan studying his program might be moved to ask, "Can you show me where Court 19 is?" But don't be deceived. You many never see a Roger Federer or Serena Williams on that piece of lawn, but it's a real gem - strikingly situated between Court 18 (a proper show court) and Court 1, which is a boring stadium like any other, if you ask me. Court 19 is notched into the foot of Henman Hill, and Court 18 rises parallel with it, across a walkway, the nearly vertical stands looking very much like a cliff painted up by a pointillist graffiti artist.
Britton was playing the No. 7 seed, Japan's Shuichi Sekiguchi (there's a triple word score for you in ATP Scrabble), on a hot, humid day that might have reminded Britton of home. When Britton, already leading 4-1, served three aces in the next game, his opponent amiably cracked a big smile and shook his head, absorbing the cruel blow with admirable composure. Although a bout of anxiety by Britton allowed Sekiguchi to close the score to 4-5, Britton pulled himself together, served out the set, and then gave his opponent nothing in set two.
Watching Britton bring the heat and spear the volley, a fan could be forgiven for wondering: Who does this kind think he is, Rod Laver? Roy Emerson? Stefan Edberg? Pete Sampras? Well, let's not get carried away. If anything, Britton is reminiscent of the Canadian journeyman Philip Bester, in that Bester also had an attack gene that once looked like it might carry him to the top of the game as the next Pat Rafter. Bester has struggled, though, and for complicated reasons not solely related to tennis. Britton is presently at the point Bester was at the peak of his junior career, and the going has been as smooth as his service action.
Britton started playing at tennis age five, tagging along to the country club to watch his mother Cindy do battle in league play. A pro invited him to hit a bit, and Britton took to it. Soon, he was training with some other prospects from the Jackson area, but by the time he was 13 it became obvious that he needed to leave home to develop his game. He was also a good at baseball, but reluctantly gave it up to focus on tennis. "I liked pitching," Britton told me after the match. "I was one of the better ones in my youth baseball days, so that was the toughest sport to quit. On the other hand, I couldn't hit very well at all, so maybe that wasn't such a bad move."
At age 14, having run out of competition in his home state, Britton moved on to the IMG Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy, where he spent three-and-a-half years. Although Bollettieri, via his protégés, has been one of the leading exponents of the baseline game, Britton says that Bollettieri and his staff recognized a natural style when they saw one, and never tried to discourage him from attacking. At Bollettieri's, Britton also said farewell for good to most of his other youthful interests. He enjoys fishing (being a son of the largemouth bass state and all) but he hasn't even done much of that lately ("Just once in a while, with a couple of other guys from Nick's"). That's okay, Devin, Rod Laver don't fish either.
Britton has a silky service action, and he tosses the ball far enough forward to bring his long frame well into the court with his follow-through; the bio-mechanics are ideal for moving to the net and Britton exploits that fully. His volleys are superb - I don' t believe I've seen a player with such superb touch and placement at a comparable stage in his career since the young Edberg, or Pat Cash. Today, Britton hit numerous drop volleys and acutely angled touch volleys, stretching the court with wisdom beyond his years. And at one point, he took a volley on the backhand side, while approaching, and cut both under and inside the ball in such a way that thing bounced, stopped in mid-air, made a right turn, changed its mind and went back the other way.
Bubba, if he was watching, might have drawled: That didn't work out so bad. . .
It takes a healthy imagination to come up with a shot like that; perhaps that's the Faulkner influence becoming manifest. But slashing your way to the upper echelon of the game - heck, getting up into the Top 100 - is easier said than done. Even in the heyday of serve-and-volley tennis, the style required an acute degree of precision and intensity, coupled with the physical ability to withstand the stresses and strains of all that lunging, stopping and starting. It takes time to develop that game to its finest, requisite degree (see: Pat Rafter). And doing it can burn you out (see: Pat Rafter).
It isn't as if Britton has no inkling of this. Contemplating the challenge, he said, "You can't serve and volley (in today's game), yeah, a bunch of people are saying that. I guess it is what it is. I can't do anything about what they're saying, I can just try to do my best to prove them wrong. I think there's room for that style. I hope I can prove that. But I also feel my groundies can improve much more, and I'm working on them - a lot."
Britton has a very solid two-handed backhand, and he's also comfortable hitting it one-handed, with heavy slice, in order to get to the net. His forehand doesn't look like it's entirely ironed out, but then his game isn't built around it, the way it is for so many successful pros. One of his major challenges will be developing a B game for those times when things aren't exactly clicking with his preferred style - as was the case at Roland Garros this year.
Britton went to Paris with a troublesome hip but with no great fear of pursuing his attacking style on red clay. "I went to the French mostly for the experience," Britton said. who more or less said good-bye to clay courts when he left Mississippi. "But I was serving so terribly in France - there was no point coming in, and guys were just taking the return, doing whatever they wanted. I was running in off nothing, basically. But at least I came back in the second set and got four games."
As Bubba might have drawled, Well, that didn't work out so good.
One of Britton's greatest assets is his second serve - when he's really feeling it, his second serve is almost as lethal as his first, and let's remember that old chestnut: You're only as good as your second serve. Or, to put it in more positive terms: If you've got a great second serve you're going to win a lot of tennis matches. There's no service speed clock on Court 19, so I had to ask the former Little League fireballer what kind of service-speed numbers he clocks on a good day.
"I'm not sure," he replied sheepishly, "I haven't had it clocked it in long time. I would think . . . I can't even guess. I wouldn't mind having a clock out on my court once."
Good things come to he who waits, Devin.
by Pete Bodo
Good mornin' everyone. Well, I'm on the ground in London and gearing up for what promises to be a mind-boggling day of quality tennis - starting with Roger Federer vs. Robin Soderling on Centre Court (how's that for a warm-up act?), and ending with (more or less) Juan Carlos Ferrero vs. Gilles Simon - on Court 3 as an afterthought.
This week, I'm rooming with El Jon Wertheim, in a flat on the storied Church Rd. - the church being St. Mary's, where a number of tennis players of yore, including Lew Hoad, were married. It's a fine flat complete with an aggressive little electric kettle that, upon ignition, sounds like a Boeing 747 preparing for take-off. Then it starts shaking and tap-dancing across the marble countertop. It's quite a show.
i also learned the hard way that the kettle discharges a nasty backblast of steam right onto the top of your hand if you don't observe an appropriate "cool down" period. So much for lethal appliances. My only beef with the flat is that the refrigerator is a puny under-the-counter thing, about the size of an Igloo cooler and - worst of all - it has no freezer compartment, hence no ice cubes, hence no chance to pour a nice scotch on the rocks after a long day. Hence, I'm looking into having Fed Ex deliver a load of ice cubes.
And a long day it promises to be.
My first impression of the new roof over Centre Court was fabulous - that is, I didn't even notice it walking down to the club, or as I made my way over to the press center. I'll have to check this alleged sliding roof later, but as of now I'm still not sure it really exists. Why should they put a roof over this stadium? It's sunny and hot, and just a moment ago I saw a photographer lathering himself with sun block. What is this, the Perth Open?
I'm eager to see the new show court, No. 2, but that pleasure will have to wait given that the first match scheduled there is the battle of the Elenas, Vesnina and Dementieva. On this day, that's chopped liver. My gut feeling is that Dinara Safina might have her hands full with Amelie Mauresmo, and Andy Roddick vs. Tomas Berdych promises to be an old-fashioned rock fight. Then there's the Fernando Verdasco vs. Ivo Karlovic clash. I expect Ivo vs. 'Nando to be kind of like Whack-a-Mole, with Karlovic looking for a KO each time he steps up to the service notch.
I'm still trying to decide between Federer vs. Soderling on Centre or Venus Williams vs. Ana Ivanovic on Court 1. Maybe I'll warm up on Court 1 and then move on up to the main house. It's getting to be make-it or break-it time for the ghosts of Court 2; if they can't set up house in Court 3 today, the entire Graveyard Court tradition may soon go down the tubes. Two of the three Court 3 matches are unlikely to be remembered as Graveyard Court milestones- I mean so what if Juan Carlos Ferrero takes down Gilles Simon, or Nadia Petrova surprises Victoria Azarenka? Neither result is likely to end up on the back page of the tabloids, with a headline in Doomsday type-size, over a picture as evocative of despair as The Scream.
But if Dudi Sela can dismantle Novak Djokovic's well-riveted and tightly bolted game in the second match on 3, it would certainly qualify as a ghoul-worthy accomplishment.
In other news, Gianni Clerici, the Italian journalist,/novelist/poet had his pocket picked while he was wandering around this morning near Big Ben. This was the second time Clerici had his wallet lifted in London. He's the only ink-stained wretch I know who's got a career pickpocket Grand Slam, having had his wallet lifted in Bangkok, Lisbon, Madrid and London (twice). "The strange thing," he said, "is that they never steal my wallet in my own country of Italy, a country of robbers."
My question was, what the hail were you doing hanging around Big Ben. Good grief, you may as well go watch the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Which reminds me of a great line by Pat Cash, for whom I continue to have a soft spot even though he's pretty much alienated almost everyone on the planet, and certainly everyone in tennis. The guy definitely lets it rip, and while many of his remarks are insulting, over-the-top, and/or unenlightening (a deadly combination, that), he's straightforward and says what he's really thinking - that's a rare commodity in a media-centric world where the carefully calibrated remark rules and the idea of saying what's on your mind makes some people queasy. The impulse is honorable even if the content is disappointing.
Anyway, some years ago, John McEnroe was invited to play an exhibition a Buckingham Palace for an audience of pale-skinned royals plus one (that one being the late Princess Diana). When McEnroe told Cash about this invitation, Cash just guffawed and said, "The only way you'll get into Buckingham Palace is over the fence."
Well, enjoy the tennis everyone.
-- As at 11:30 am TW time, an overflow post is up. Andrew
Overflow
Good afternoon everyone. With the first week of Wimbledon over and Southfields empty of the usual crowds and queues, it should be a relaxed day in the leafy environs of the All England Club. Please use this as your space to talk about anything tennis-related, or to go off-topic. In the early evening I'll be on my way to Heathrow. Pete's flight is due to touch down this evening, and I'll be driving him into Wimbledon from the airport. He'll be covering the tournament here for the next week, including the initial daily Crisis Centers. Enjoy the rest of your day off from tennis - it all begins again tomorrow. -- Rosangel Valenti
By TW Contributing Editor Andrew Burton (photo credit: Sam)
Morning, all.
We're at the middle Sunday of Wimbledon. As this post goes up, Pete is on his way to England for the second week of the tournament.
Three weeks ago, Pete asked me to start thinking about writing an appreciation of Roger Federer, in the event that Federer should finally land the French Open title that was still, then, tantalizingly just out of reach. So here we are.
Appreciations of a player typically follow one of a few well known structures. First, there's the match description. The wonderful shots by the victor, the plucky-but-ultimately-doomed efforts of the loser. The more plucky the loser, the more wonderful the victor, the better the story.
Then there's the "hero's journey" story - the narrative of the Quest undertaken by the Player to achieve his Holy Grail. This one's pretty easy to write - Holy Grail = French Open, the missing major on the resume, the 14th title, the GOAT status. And there's some special spice - had Federer won his first RG final against Nadal in 2006, it would have been a pretty boring hero's story - eight of eight GS finals won, gosh he's so perfect, barely suppressed yawn. Whereas now we have Return Of The King, the man who's been tested and emerged stronger, he was written off but look at him now, yup, the words just flow off the keyboard.
Another theme might be "Roger And Me." I wasn't in Paris for Federer's matches, as Rosangel memorably was last year for Wimbledon F 2008. Still, I was manning a keyboard throughout the tournament, so maybe that counts. And there might be a post in the tale of matches watched at odd hours in the morning, of pilgrimages to tournaments, of the way the player has Changed My Life. Still, I have a feeling that's also been done, and you've probably had it up to here with sports crushes, or religious experiences.
I thought I'd try a different tack. Pete's blog has become a gathering place - a community, a Tribe. As Federer got nearer the final, the tension and anticipation among his fans (including me) grew, until Sunday's catharsis. This has become a shared experience, something which wasn't possible even ten years ago. Match calling can link a fan in the Philippines with a friend in Canada, Portugal or India. So I reached out to some of the people I knew in two online communities - TennisWorld and RF.com - to learn how others were enjoying the moment, and what Federer's victory at Roland Garros meant to them.
First up - guess the poster:
OMG, just UNFREAKINGBELIEVABLE...words can not express how overjoyed I am right now. How utterly fantastic. The Fed's serve was the killer today, I can't remember the last time I saw him serve so unfreakingbelievable. It's been way too long. I am at a loss of words right now, and I can't string together coherent words. Just wanted to say congratulations...wohooooooo I will never have to watch another clay tourney again...LOL
I think that "unfreakingbelievable" is a hint: I just hope the author didn't take her hands off the wheel of the bus while texting.
Last summer, I had the pleasure of meeting Sher and her mother at Toronto, as we prepared for Federer's opening match of the tournament. Sadly, it was Federer's last match: an imperious 6-2 first set against Gilles "oh Death, where is thy sting" Simon was followed by a baffling loss of concentration, then an outright collapse (from two, count 'em, two separate break leads in the third set). Sher and I commiserated with each other then: after Federer's victory in Paris, she wrote
In many ways this feels like a fight that we've fought together with Roger. When he was down it was just as important for us to keep the belief in his ability to win as it was for him, and I don't mean only in the last two weeks. I've waited for three years for him to hold this trophy.
It is a pleasure to share it with such amazing people that I've met on TW.
ps Oh, and it's not over yet.
Matt Zemek brought a sportswriter's eye to the event:
For Roger Federer at the 2009 French Open, a slew of game-changing, mindset-bending curveballs (they might as well have had heavy lefty topspin on them) were thrown at a 13-time major champion who had seemingly seen it all.
To then see Federer wrest himself out of death's grasp against Tommy Haas; foil a tricky Frenchman to reach the jawdropping 20-slam-semi plateau; dig deep to outlast a gallant and radically improved del Potro; and deliver a mature, steady performance in the final, despite an outrageous lapse by Roland Garros's security forces, represents the latest, and surely the greatest, evidence of the focus and concentration that have enabled this man to attain a career slam and 14 overall titles, tied for the most in the history of his sport.
Nearly everyone watching the tournament felt the earth shake on the middle Sunday. Many of us, watching from continents away, wondered how the aftershocks would affect the newly installed favorite. CL expresses this beautifully, and connects her emotions in those days to earlier sporting memories:
Despite what he said during the week, the pressure must have been like a vice on every shot. To watch him struggle, yet fight through the mismatched twins of hope and fear was remarkable, scary, blood pressure rising, sweaty, joyful and ultimately satisfying in ways that easier victories can never be.
The joy and wonder, (along with some of the heartbreaks), are by far the bestest and the mostest any tennis player has ever given me. And pretty close to the greatest wonder and joy that any sporting event has ever given me. As a teenager, my beloved Boston Celtics could keep me pacing up and down as I listened to their Championship seasons on a portable radio, punching the air and spinning with joy when they won... which they did a LOT. Roger Federer is the first athlete since then who makes me feel that profound combination of wonder, awe, joy, and sublime exaltation.
As I wrote above, another tennis community was also celebrating - the place TW calls the Mothership. One of RF.com's regulars, Sameena, told me
With the shared conciousness of the forum & the diverse ways in which people show their love & support for Roger comes the wonderful feeling of being part of something positive.
This tournament showed me what the power of a slight change in fortune can achieve. In winning Madrid, I believe Roger had slayed some vicious dragons. The rest just flowed from that.
For krist, one of the pillars of RF.com, there was a sense of deliverance:
I see this FO as a tale of vindication for Roger and for the courage, patience, and belief he's shown through the last 1 1/2 year's adversities, but also through the last 5 years of disappointments at the FO.
I also see his epic battles and narrow escapes, round after round, as a very convincing proof, that just because Roger doesn't look like he's killing himself in every point, it doesn't mean he lacks heart, guts, fighting spirit, and desire to win.
Tangerine Popsicle also talks about Federer's fighting spirit - something that many of his fans worried had gone AWOL at the start of this year. She also beautifully describes the emotions that many of us felt in the final few days of the tournament - wanting to know how it all ends, knowing that we'd have to wait and find out....
Watching Roger (my BFed:) these past two weeks, I felt as if I were in the middle of reading a deeply compelling mystery, desperately wishing I could skip to the final chapter to see how it ended. The suspense was killing me. This tournament seemed to take an eternity, unfolding in slow motion, each successive match bringing with it greater tension.
Roger always makes the game of tennis look so easy. But there was nothing easy about his journey to this final. His struggles with his opponents and himself weren't always pretty, but they allowed him to shine in a different way. He showed his fitness, grit, desire, mental toughness, courage, and champion's heart, qualities that are too often taken for granted when discussing Roger's tennis attributes. The struggles of the past two weeks, not to mention the four previous years in Paris, made the victory sweeter for him and his fans.
For my own part, I've been honestly surprised by how, three weeks on, the 2009 French Open seems like it happened a year ago. The show goes on.
For a week or so, I anticipated great happiness, I felt it, held onto it for a little while, and have now put it into memory. What makes the memory richer is the connection I felt during the tournament, match calling, analyzing, hoping, frazzling, calming, then just letting it all out, with all the friends mentioned in this post, and the many, many others in the comments threads at TW, RF.com and on numerous other tennis sites around the world. At one level it's just pixels on a screen, but at another it's what we all reach for but don't always find - human connection in our happiest moments.
Good morning all. It looks like another warm sunny day outside, although one or two showers might develop later on in the afternoon. Tennis begins at noon (7 a.m. EST) on the outside courts, and an hour later on the two main show courts. Today's Order of Play can be found here. Please use this space to talk about today at Wimbledon and any other tennis-related matters of the day. We'll provide you with Overflow posts as needed to continue the conversation when TypePad's antisocial tendencies on the current post become too strong; as usual the link will be provided within the current post. I think some of today's more interesting (for which read: "potentially competitive") matches could be occurring on outside courts. Radek Stepanek and David Ferrer meet on Court 18 (at least it's televised; the head-to-head is 3-2 to Ferrer), as do Agnieszka Radwanska and Li Na (head-to-head 1-1, both meetings in 2009). Meanwhile Amelie Mauresmo and Flavia Pennetta will play second on Court 3 (head-to-head 2-2), and Ana Ivanovic meets Sam Stosur first on Court 2, with the lower-ranked player showing the stronger recent form. There is of course no shortage of stars on Centre Court, with matches featuring Venus Williams up against Carla Suarez Navarro, Jurgen Melzer versus Andy Roddick, and Andy Murray facing Viktor Troicki. The Court 1 programme also looks promising, with Tommy Haas and Marin Cilic concluding yesterday's five-set thriller. Later on Svetlana Kuznetsova will be taking on Sabine Lisicki, and Fernando Gonzalez faces Juan Carlos Ferrero (that head-to-head is 3-3). As always, enjoy today's tennis. -- Rosangel Valenti
Note: As of 2.30 p.m. EST, we have opened an Overflow post. Please access it using the link below. Overflow
By Jackie, TW Social Director Howdy, TWibers! It's great to see y'all back in the Deuce Club again after the brief hiatus. Before I continue, I'd like to extend my sincerest thinks to so many of you for the well wishes on my birthday (two days ago). Celebrating the occasion with y'all made it all the more memorable and reminded me of how fortunate I am to be a member of such a convivial community. (Which gives me an idea: I'm more than happy to include birthday shout-outs in the DC. If you're interested, just let me know about your special day as it approaches at my Tennis.com e-mail address, and I'll announce it in the DC the week of. You'll get to wear a special birthday sombrero all night, too.) Like I did during the AO and RG, this week's DC will be Wimbledon-themed, but with an OT flavor (if that makes any sense!).  In his Cruel Brittania post, Pete presented some quotes from press conferences given by British players this week. I really enjoyed reading it, and it prompted me to check out those (and other) pressers in full. As I rifled through them, I found a number of hilarious/zany quotes that were just begging to be reproduced here.
The following is a mere two days' (the first two) worth of "Did he/she really just say that?" presser moments: Serena Williams
Q: There are so many new names in the game, many not from our country. Is it hard to follow who's who? A: I just know the standard: everyone is from Russia. Sometimes I think I'm from Russia, too. I feel like, you know, okay, all these new ‑ovas. I don't know anyone. I don't really recognize anyone. You know, that's just how it is. Q: So are you saying you came to Compton when you were seven years old from Russia? A: I think I am, and I think my name must Williamsova. Roger Federer Q: When is the baby due? A: I'm not saying. It's a pity we're moving on with language right now. So sorry (smiling). Michelle Larcher de Brito THE MODERATOR: No more noisy questions. Can we move on to tennis or other aspects of the match we've seen. James Blake Q: Did you have any physical problems today? A: Yeah. Uhm, I had an upset stomach. That's probably all the details that need to be printed. Mardy Fish Q: Did he [Michael Yani] graduate? A: I don't know that much about him (laughter). I'm not sure what he got on his SATs (laughter).
Andy Murray Q: In an interview today, Pat Cash called you boring and said you had a monotonous voice. Do you have any response to that? A: I don't really care, to be honest (smiling). I mean, I've said I don't think my voice is particularly interesting, but, you know, I don't need it to be. Uhm, I let my tennis do the talking. I think my tennis is exciting, so... Marat Safin Q. In your Wimbledon career, who do you rate as the best grass court player you faced? A: I lost to everybody I think here who I could. I didn't even get to play with the good players, except Federer and Djokovic, and that's it. Pretty much it. Ivanisevic, okay. Georgie Stoop Q: What were you listening to on the iPod? A: I was listening to Spin Doctors. Andy Roddick (There were so many to choose from!) Q: You've been on Twitter a lot this week. How would you sum up your performance in 140 characters or less? A: I wouldn't (smiling). Q. Did you enjoy The Hangover? A: To clarify, he's asking about a movie, not my choice of beverages. Yeah, it was all right. I think it got built up a little bit. Not on par with Wedding Crashers, but it was a good laugh. Q: Did you ever have a night like that yourself? A: Not even once, ever in my entire existence. Good stuff, right? And those were from Round 1 alone! I'm not the only one who reads pressers 'round here, so if you guys caught any other interesting/funny/what-the-heck? quotes, share them here. And keep your eye out for quotes as the tournament progress, as I'll do a call for them again next week! Moving along ... There's nothing we enjoy quite as much as reading reports about TWibers' experiences at tournaments, right? Tonight we have another one! Beloved TW regulars Sher and jewell were in attendance at Wimbledon on Day 1 and offered to write a lil' something about their time there. You'll notice it's sort of a tag-team effort, with each offering her (unique) perspective on a given match or moment. Their distinct "voices" make for a really entertaining read! (Incidentally, Wimbledon is at the top of my "Places to Experience in Person" list. I fell in love with the tournament far before tennis was an obsession and look forward to these two weeks every single year. Perhaps I'll discuss this at greater length in an upcoming DC.) Where were we? Ah yes, Sher and jewell's Wimbledon report. Enjoy!
jewell: First of all, I want to say a massive thank you to Sher for offering me her spare ticket yesterday. *loves and hugs Sher* It was a fabulous thing to be offered and an immense privilege to be able to see Roger and Serena play live. And Djokovic was pretty good, too. ;)
Also? Sher is just as knowledgeable and lovely in real life as she is on TW.
I was so excited walking from the bus stop down to Gate 5, where we were meeting. There were people in Wimbledon uniforms! Signs to The Queue! Special yellow bollards in the road!
The gate people were lovely and smiley and very friendly, even while checking my pens for James Bond-type innovations ... and no, I didn’t have any, I don’t hate Robin Soderling *that* much.
Sher: Earlier before Roger started playing, we watched Kohlschreiber go down 0-5 and were intending to sit out until the end of the set before leaving for Centre Court. However, as soon as Kohlschreiber won the next game, taking the score to 1-5, it was obviously far from over yet. I joked to jewell that if he takes it to a tiebreak I will be seriously upset. After Kohlschreiber won the next game as well we had to leave or risk missing Roger. As it turns out, PEHK did take it to a tiebreak which he won, as well as subsequently the match.
jewell: I was amazed at how close you could get to the play on the outside courts. You could hear every breath from the players, and see every little change in body language. Serra is much, much better looking in real life than he is on TV – very darkly tanned and with a bodice-ripping, pirate-hero sort of air. Kohlschreiber was very neat to watch, very precise and neat in his movements, but also fun. Being so close, you could see the years of work that had gone into Serra’s serving movement, the practised-ness of it. I loved being able to see the expressions on the faces of the ballkids, too – all of them looked terribly nervous.
Sher: I went up the stairs to the Centre Court with my heart palpitating in my chest. I'd seen Roger play before, but this was going to be different. There is something about the idea of Roger Federer on Centre Court at Wimbledon that simply ... belongs, and I wanted to experience that.
He walked out to cheering and an ovation and proceeded to undress. That took a while: the jacket, then the undershirt, then finally after warm-up, the pants. The crowd greeted his get-up warmly, even with scattered titters from the female contingent. Once the play started, he was just your regular tennis player at the All England's Club, wearing shorts and a t-shirt and carrying 14 grand slam titles.
jewell: Perhaps it’s the Rafa fangirl in me, but I thought Roger didn’t look quite as comfortable walking out on court as on previous occasions. It might have been the jacket, I suppose. I thought both that and the waistcoat looked good on Roger, I have to say – and the fighting image complemented his recent play rather well. (Still hate the gold monogram though.) There were a few shouts of “We miss you, Rafa!” as Roger walked out – no, not from me. ;-)
Sher: His opponent didn't seem terribly fazed, which is a credit to him. They played three nice sets of tennis. There was a jaw-dropping point here and there, but after the nerve-wracking experience of the French Open, I wasn't looking for excitement. I was just happy to be there and in great company.
jewell: I thought Lu came out really well in the first set (although he was terrible at the net, just had no idea what to do). From where we were sitting I could just see Mirka, who looked absolutely glowing and soooo beautiful.
Watching live, everything seems more noticeable, somehow – Federer’s variety and that gliding movement of his were beautiful to see. It was hard to really see Federer doing anything – he just seemed to be right there, to be doing it. It sounds stupid but that’s how it looked to me. He hit some brilliant passing shots, some wonderful backhands, and one stunning-round the-net-post passing shot that had the whole crowd on their feet and clapping.
Sher: Other than Federer's match, I managed to catch a bit of Monaco vs. Almagro, and right off the bat, Almagro managed to do something that's likely to seal my opinion on him. Last time I watched him was at the French Open some years back, and he (un)impressed me with his petulant and negative attitude towards the crowd, the opponent, and the ballkids. I wrote it off that time because he was playing Murray who can frustrate as well as any player, and because it was one of the hottest days of the tournament. Tempers ran high and all that, I thought.
However on a perfectly breezy 22C afternoon in London, the first thing Almagro did when I sat down to watch their fourth set was tell the ballboy "What's wrong with you, man?" and indicate a different position on the ground for the boy to serve him balls. You should have seen the eyeroll and the headshake from the ballboy when Almagro went off to serve! Not a popular guy with the staff, I gather.
 The next thing Almagro did was turn in the general direction of where I was sitting about three rows away from the court and shush the fans cheering for Monaco. This was odd, but it did prompt me to cheer for Monaco much louder, as it did that entire row of people.
The next thing Almagro did was start talking across the net in Spanish while Monaco attempted to serve, prompting calls from the chair umpire ("Mr. Almagro! Mr. Almagro!").
Things got more heated before they cooled down since these guys went into the fifth set which Almagro eventually won playing baseliner tennis.
Over on other courts, Robredo was up two sets to love, and Tipsarevic was handling Jan Henrych. I stayed for bits of sets here and there, walking the grounds and taking pictures of everything.
jewell: I stayed on Centre to watch Serena Williams, another true great I really wanted to see. She seemed twice the size of Silva – so incredibly powerful. And so charismatic. When she ratcheted up the intensity, I just could not take my eyes off her. The first set was a Serena domination; although her first service game was a bit shaky, she got into the groove very quickly. She does the weirdest thing with high balls/lobs – instead of smashing them, she kind of strikes them out of the air for a groundstroke. (Or am I making that up?) In the second set, Silva settled a little, and started to try to play with guile. That set was much tighter, but again, the outcome was never in doubt. Serena’s on-court tantrums when she missed a makeable shot – all self-directed here – were kind of touching and child-like. I liked her.
Sher: Back on Centre, Serena Williams shrieked through her second set, and Djokovic took the court vs. Benneteau who, as it turns out, can play on grass! It was a surprise to see him push Djokovic around as much as he did, as was the footwork, or lack of it, from the world #4. Djokovic slipped often, although never badly. On one occasion we noted that he slipped twice in a row during the same rally. He was, however, the steadier player mentally than the on-fire Julien, and when Benneteau slipped and appeared to twist an ankle the potential upset no longer had a pulse. Finally Djokovic put a stop to impending disaster by buckling down in the second set tiebreaker.
The crowd cheered Benneteau on through his unlikely victory of the first set and the competitive spirit he showed in the second, and then after the injury he won even more supporters.
jewell: Djokovic was immensely interesting to watch for me. I don’t know whether it was just that match on that day, or whether he is always the same – but I do think I’ve seen him on TV with more bounce, confidence and joie de vivre than he had on Monday. He seemed so mercurial: one point he’d be strutting after hitting a winner flat and low past Julien Benneteau, and the next he’d hit one right into the net and down would go the shoulders. After the smooth consistency of Federer and Serena’s full-on intensity, the up-and-down-ness of Djokovic was just fascinating.
The first set was incredibly tight, but Djokovic was behind in the tiebreak nearly all the way. After he won the TB, Benneteau seemed to have a patch of total confidence – he could barely miss, and everything went right. Djokovic couldn’t seem to read Benneteau’s first serve terribly well and hardly got a return in. For me, it was Djokovic’s serve that kept him in the match, because his groundstrokes were not consistent. His movement was not so good, and he slipped often - which probably had something to do with it. Benneteau hit a few really nice winners, but for me he tired a little (how much of this is mental, how much physical, I couldn’t tell) in the second set TB (I think Djokovic took it 7-1). Novak carried the momentum into the third, and I think was already up a break when Benneteau twisted his ankle.
For me, it wasn’t the injury that swung the match Djokovic’s way. Benneteau got a lot of crowd sympathy and applause for being a gutsy underdog - but it wasn’t as if Djokovic had no support, either. There were more than a few shouts of “Come ON Novak!”
Favourite moment – simultaneous shirt change. Djokovic’s back is beautiful.
I tried to leave just after Djokovic took the third – I had to catch the train back and didn’t want to be too terribly late about it – but my goodbyes and thanks took so long, I had to wait till the first changeover. I didn’t want to break the rules in case those kindly-looking honorary stewards had some dreadful punishment for inconsiderate rule-breakers hidden under their hats!
Sher: Overall it was a perfect day of tennis for me, including the ideal weather. jewell had saved me earlier by lending me a hat and sunscreen, but by about mid-day I no longer needed them. Djokovic chose to warm up in a long-sleeved shirt but it was barely cool.
jewell: The weather was lovely in the morning and clouded over nicely in the afternoon – we were quite high up on Centre Court and in the shade, which was good. The new roof certainly hasn’t killed off the pigeons, either – their cooing echoed from right inside the roof.
Sher: And of course, the highlight was me arriving to London with only the barest hope of queueing up for Tuesday to see Federer and finding out that he would be playing on the day and court for which I already had tickets! For me it was a fulfillment of a dream. Now I hope Roger takes care of his own dreams the Sunday after this one!
jewell: I’m not at all sure I really deserved to see Roger play on grass – on Centre Court – but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Sher and jewell, many thanks to you both for providing such a detailed account of your day at the All England Club. I'm delighted that it provided so many thrills, living up to (and exceeding?) your expectations. Now it's TWibe time! I invite y'all to comment on the Wimbledon report (and don't forget to share your favorite presser quotes from the past week). Of course, you can also use this space to go as OT as your heart desires. It's been a rather dark week in the entertainment industry, as we lost pop culture icons in (especially) Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and Ed McMahon; if you have thoughts on the topic, you can express them here. If too depressing, we can certainly explore happier subjects, like the brilliance of the Slap Chop remix (if you're familiar with the product and its spokesperson, you'll laugh for days ... if not, you'll think I'm taking crazy pills). Enjoy the weekend, everyone!
by Pete Bodo Greetings, everyone. I'm preparing for my trip to London on Sunday, where I'll be reporting on Wimbledon through the final. Y'all saw Ivo Karlovic rain down 46 aces on not-exactly-small Jo-Wilfried Tsonga today and that, combined with Robin Soderling's advance, and the number of ace machines still alive in the draw (Andy Roddick and Tomas Berdych), makes me think that maybe the circle is closing and players are awakening to the fact that a big serve on grass courts still equals potential devastation. I've harped on this theme in the past, and the chorus has a few impressive members - Pete Sampras and John McEnroe among them. Just the other day, McEnroe told me that he doesn't care what kind of grass seed Wimbledon is now using, how close the grass is cut, or how big a fishnet players are using these days for a racket. Grass is grass and the ball still comes through faster than on any other surface. McEnroe, and just about anyone else who's been puzzled by the preponderance of baseline play (the One World Passive-Aggressive style), still thinks that a new messiah of the serve (and dare we think it, backed by the volley!) may stumble out of the wilderness to remind us of what the term "grass court" tennis really means. Grass, like clay, is an organic surface. But unlike clay - at least the pulverized brick that lies atop a red-clay court - grass generally has a high, naturally regenerating moisture content. And moist means slippery. Returning a well-placed, big serve on grass is a little like trying to catch a watermelon seed someone has squeezed out of his fingertips. Can you say "slick"? And while the weather has been dry and balmy at Wimbledon (the blame for that lies squarely on the new roof over Centre Court; I understand Parliament is considering building a similar roof over the entire stinkin' island, in hopes that England may turn into Dubai by the North Atlantic), some of the customary humidity, abetted by a rain shower or two, could further enhance the chances of the big servers. Of course, that particular sword is double-edged; there comes a point where the deadening effect of a moist court, slick as it may be, come at too high a cost, pace-wise. For we all know that a drier court adds service speed, and the old truism is still valid: Speed Kills. Anyway, I'm enough of a contrarian to actually enjoy some of these spectacular serving displays, probably for the same reason that I always stop to watch when some gigantic, condemned stadium is rigged with explosives and demolished. I'm not crazy enough to suggest that guys who have whopper serves aren't trying to exploit them to the max; I'm suggesting that for some probably un-scientific reason (chance?), the serve may play a far bigger role at this Wimbledon than in the past few. It was bound to happen. The other day, while writing a brief story on Rod Laver's Open-era Grand Slam (1969), I came across this quote in the book Laver wrote with the help of Bud Collins, The Education of a Tennis Player (it's still a fine read, whether you find Collins' casual, irreverent style an asset or liability). It seems that Rocket had trouble with Cliff Drysdale's game (as well as Cliffy's claim that he had Laver "figured out") - so much so that Laver took the fairly drastic step of changing his own game before their quarterfinal showdown at Wimbledon that year. He wrote: “I decided I’d better do something to throw him off, so I decided to vary my net rushing. Sometimes I’d stay back when I served, which was almost unheard of in championship men’s tennis on grass.” I know, that was then, this is now. Leave me and all the other disgruntled old-timers our illusions. By far the most intriguing match-up on my first day of coverage will be the Federer-Soderling clash. It certainly has a lot more potential than it would have if this Roland Garros thing hadn't happened a few weeks ago. Coincidentally, the Soderling-Rafael Nadal match was just getting underway when I arrived in Paris, although I didn't think much of that at the time. This is going to be an intriguing match, in one of those Can Lightning Strike Twice? ways. Soderling has played a good Wimbledon so far, backing up the progress he made in Paris. He's had gastro-intestinal issues, but not the kind that often afflicts journeymen facing the big dogs at major events (the kind that's more commonly called "lacking guts"). In fact, the psychology of the sport suggests that Soderling is perhaps a more dangerous opponent for a champion in early rounds than later, or at any rate a final. There's a certain, extra amount of pressure, even on a hopeless underdog, in a final, but nothing nearly as leaden in mid-event matches. And the prospect of putting Nadal out of the French and then bouncing The Mighty Fed out of Wimbledon must have a certain perverse appeal to Soderling.Without the title on the line, he's even more entitled to feel that he's playing with house money. Soderling seems to have a pretty healthy attitude, too. The Paris final was a reality check for the Swedish belter, and today he repeated almost verbatim the honest evaluation he offered after losing to Federer in Paris: "It's tough to play against Roger. You know, I've played him ten times, and after the match I never felt like I played well. But I mean, it's not because of me, I think it's because of him. He makes you play. It's tough to play well against him, put it that way. I'd like to improve everything from Paris." I'll take a realistic player over one who's stoked out of his gourd any day, although a combination of the two attitudes produces the ultimate frame of mind. But the only prediction I'm making is that Soderling will make a fashion statement of his own by walking out onto Centre Court wearing an off-the-shoulder bearskin tunic and gladiator sandals, carrying a war club carved from the finest English yew. Wouldn't that be something? In other news, I had to laugh the other day when I came across this exchange in an Andy Murray presser: Q. In an interview today, Pat Cash called you boring and said you had a monotonous voice. Do you have any response to that? A: "I don't really care, to be honest (smiling). I mean, I've said I don't think my voice is particularly interesting, but, you know, I don't need it to be. Uhm, I let my tennis do the talking. I think my tennis is exciting, so... " Q. It got slightly better. He also compared you to Wayne Rooney, saying you're the Wayne Rooney of tennis. Whereupon the official WImbledon moderator interjected, " Let's go on to the next one (question)." Can you say, "buzz-kill?" BTW, Wayne Rooney is a British football star - presumably one who's boring and has a monotonous voice. Let's leave this final post before I depart with a word from TMF, to balance what I wrote up top. Today Roger Federer said, "That's the beauty of tennis. I think everybody has a chance. Doesn't matter if you're tall or, you know, smaller, it doesn't matter." There's your bulletin board material for the big bombardiers.
Good morning. The third round at Wimbledon begins today, with play beginning at 12 noon (that's 7 a.m. EST in the US). The matches on Centre Court start an hour later. Today's Order of Play is here. Please use this space to discuss today's tennis. We'd appreciate it if you could keep your conversations on-topic until all matches are over. The matches on Centre Court feature Roger Federer versus Philipp Kohlschreiber, Victoria Azarenka up against Sorana Cirstea (surely on the way to becoming a new photographers' favourite), and Novak Djokovic taking on Mardy Fish. On Court 1 Ivo Karlovic and Jo-Wilfried Tsonga will have a first-ever career meeting, while the third men's match features Tommy Haas and Marin Cilic, also a first-time matchup that could prove competitive.
There was rain in SW19 this morning, and some showers are possible later today, so we could see the new Centre Court roof in action for the first time at the tournament.
-- Rosangel Valenti
Note: as of 14.45 a.m. EST we have opened an Overflow post. Please access it using the link below: Overflow
|
