44 posts categorized "August 2009"
 by Pete Bodo
Opening day of any major is way too hectic for my temperament. Five minutes on site on Day 1 and I'm overwhelmed by analysis paralysis - sheesh, how am I going to choose a topic in this Arabian bazaar of a tennis tournament? Well, try to do something different, I tell myself, and don't cave to the pressure and cling for dear life to your seat in Arthur Ashe stadium. And for heaven's sake, don't shoot your wad on Day 1 writing about Roger Federer, Serena Williams, or Andy Roddick.
So I decided that today is. . . India Day at the US Open! How's that for a little out-of-the-box thinking?
Anyway, it's only appropriate to start India Day with a nice samosa appetizer followed by chicken tikka masala, so that's just what I did - the New Delhi Spice concession does a very nice curry, and the line usually isn't too long. My fellow New Yorkers seem more interested in fighting it out to see who can get a pastrami sandwich as thick as the Manhattan telephone directory at the Carnegie Deli - before they get stabbed to death with a plastic knife or die of starvation while waiting in line to order.
So then it was on to the Chennai double-header: Somdev Devvarman and Sania Mirza, who, with a little luck, would be waging their first-round battles on nearly adjacent courts decently removed from the thrum and chaos of Arthur Ashe or Lous Armstrong.
Devvarman, you may recall, is the two-time NCAA singles champion (representing the University of Virginia, or UVA) who declined to turn pro until he graduated in 2008. He's been on the tournament trail ever since, enduring the aspiring journeyman's travails. He's currently ranked no. 162, and he made it into the tournament the old-fashioned way - via qualifying.
In Fact, the USTA declined to offer Devvarman a wild card into the tournament in either of the years that he won the NCAAs, a decision that irritated some. It was especially true last year, by which time it was apparent that John Isner, Devvarman's victim in the first of his NCAA finals, can play some. Devvarman has been a bit like the puppy nobody has wanted to adopt, but which makes its eventual owner a mighty happy bi-ped.
Be that as it may - Devvarman launched his Grand Slam main draw career today, in his fourth attempt to make the main draw. He was facing Portugal's Frederico Gil on Court 15, were the only seating is aboard a small bank of skeletal aluminum bleachers along either baseline.
I arrived near the end of the first set and immediately lucked out when a woman abandoned her seat in the bleachers. A man standing to my left told his companion, "Devvarman went to UVA where he won everything you can possible win. But he's kind of short."
Well, it was true enough.The contrast between this brace of 24-year olds was interesting if not exactly dramatic. Officially listed as 5-11 and 160 lbs., Devvarman is anything but an imposing physical presence. Gil is formally 5-10, 154 lbs. I'd say each man grew an inch or so on his way to the ATP website and media guide, and that Devvarman added a few pounds while Gil shed a few; this was a match-up of the lean and fleet with the stocky and powerful, both men preferring to operate from the baseline and neither capable of doing much damage with his serve.
In some ways, it was a nicely tailored match-up; not exactly a contrast, but with enough minor, dovetailing differences to promise a match that would be decided by something other than a glaring weakness or an overarching strength.
As I settled in to watch, a young man named Jason Cohn introduced himself to me. He's the head coach for men and women at Stevenson University, a Division III college known until 2008 as Villa Julie College. Jason explained that Villa Julie was originally a nunnery, and in any event I'm glad the regents changed the name. No young guy ought to have to coach a boy's team from Villa Julie; the "Stevenson Mustangs" strikes a heftier note, don't you think?
In any event, the field courts are a great place to watch a match featuring at least one kid who's been a collegiate star, because he invariably draws a large group of classmates, former teammates, coiaches and alumni. There were numerous UVA t-shirts in evidence at Court 15, and Devvarman later told me that almost every time he looked up from the task at hand, he saw someone he knew from his college days in the stands.
I wondered if he chose to make eye contact, and said that when he did it was just incidental. Tennis players are odd creatures that way, a little bit like peeping toms. They're almost always intensely aware of the spectators, especially on smaller courts, but they cling to an unwritten rule forbidding anything but the kind of eye contact that's made out of sheer desperation or compulsively.
Devvarman reminds me of a slightly smaller, slightly less rangy model of Guillermo Coria. He's very light on his feet - sometimes they work like flippers as he scampers to a ball and hits a shot that lifts him right off the court. In fact, Gil also knows how to roll his entire body into the ball. Both of these young men hit forehands with a long, low-to-high stroke, so it looks like the racquet is actually licking the ball. And they both use the two-handed backhand.
Gil's forehand was the most dangerous stroke on the court; it produced plenty of winners but more unforced errors as well. He especially likes to tee-up the inside-out forehand from his backhand sideline, which isn't a bad idea given that the shot flies to his (right-handed) opponent's backhand, and over the lowest part of the net.
Devvarman played with a less aggressive sensibility and preferred to lurk further behind the baseline - let Gil take the chances, and goad him into going for too much, too soon. This Gil did not do; he demonstrated excellent self-control, but over time even the most disciplined of aggressive players can be lured into throwing caution to the wind. As the match progressed, Devvarman kept tightening the mental screws. If Gil's forehand was the most dangerous stroke, Devvarman's stamina was the more lethal tool.
Devvarman won the first set, and the match was decided in the last four games of the second set. With Gil serving at 3-4, Devvarman forced him into a long game featuring half-a-dozen deuces and two break points that Gil successfully defended. Gil held, but his relief at having done so helped Devvarman to hold the next game easily. Gill struggled again in the next game again, and failed to convert a succession of hold points. When Devvarman finally won a deuce point, he converted the critical break following a long, artful rally with a smart backhand winner down the line. He went on to win in straight sets.
Afterwards, I felt obliged to ask Devvarman if he was aware of the naysayers - those who said he was too slight and short on power to succeed on the pro tour. "I mean, you hear a lot of stuff, positive and negative. You try not to let any of it get to you. That's why you have a close circle - close friends, a coach, a trainer. . . I try not to pay attention to any of it, the good or the bad. That stuff just isn't going to help you."
Devvarman is a focused, rational young man. Yet he characterized his experience as a pro as an "emotional roller-coaster," which once again confirms the theory that the difference between a cool customer and a hothead may be more a matter of self-control than the size of the emotional reservoir. "It's been a heck of an experience," Devvarman said. "A completely different experience from college. You're out there traveling every week, dealing with a lot more adversity, with different conditions, surfaces, traveling every week. It teaches you to be tougher, to go out there and not make excuses - just leave it all out on the court."
I wondered if Devvarman felt any vindication after winning his first official Grand Slam-event match - if he felt he sent a message to the USTA about those wild cards he never was offered. Not at all, he insisted, explaining: "Obviously it was a bummer about those wild cards, but it's completely understandable - it's the US Open, they want to help out their own juniors.When all is said and done, it's just one (sic) tournament I didn't get into. But it's a long race, so it's no problem whatsoever."
Devvarman is a native of Chennai, India, but he lives on Charlottesville, Va. (near UVA). He plays Davis Cup for India, and he's now coached by the former U.S. touring pro, Scott McCain. His mental strength is a great asset - how else could he have beaten Isner for the NCAA title without breaking Isner's serve a single time? And Devvarman knows he has a tough row to hoe; when I asked him which group of players he falls into, he replied "There are a lot of guys out there who aren't 6-7 and serving bombs all the time. I happen to be one of them. The most important thing for me is to go out there and compete well. I did that today - I felt I competed well, I didn't get tight. How you compete is what gets you through tough matches."
 When I left Devvarman's match after the second set, I stopped by to watch Mirza. She was on Court 13, belting the ball with Belarus's Olga Govortsova. Mirza is one of the cleanest ball strikers in the WTA; she has plenty of snap in her wrist (most evident on her forehand side) and she hits her backhand with such easy confidence that her support (left) hand breaks free from the racquet shortly after she makes contact, adding an appealing measure of explosive flair to the stroke. It's a joy watching her hit groundstrokes.
But that serve - my, oh, my. . . Mirza starts out with the best of intentions, with a knee bend that, absurdly, may make you think of Boris Becker in his heyday. Unfortunately, it seems a tease - a show of false bravado. Instead of launching herself upward with the spring-loaded power of a Becker, she abandons the project, straightens up, and by the time the ball reaches the peak of her toss (and a low peak it is), she's cowering under it. Her body language says: Come on, gimme a break, do I really have to do this?
Partly for that reason, Mirza struggled with Govortsova, taking three sets to win. Give Mirza a decent serve and you're looking at a 2-and-3 yawner. But then, give Devvarman a slightly larger frame and you've got Top 10 material.
But all in all it was a good day for India, and for me as well.
 Mornin'. Bet y'all are chomping at the bit to start talking about Day One action, so without further ado, here's your Crisis Center post for today (picture to come). I'll be back with some red meat late in the day. I think today I'll just do a USO sampler, see what I see, if you know what I mean. And I'm looking forward to young Devin Britton's "experience" on Arthur Ashe, as he faces The Mighty Fed . . Over to you, enjoy the US Open, yow-eee!
-- Pete
 by Pete Bodo
Mornin'. The tropical rains that besieged the northeast these past few days finally seem to have moved on, and it's bright, sunny, cool and fresh here at the farm in game-rich Andes this morning. There's a kind of stillness about the day before a major event like the US Open begins, except for those intrepid souls who are, and often have been, on-site for days now. Not me - after spend most of last week at the USTABJKNTC, I repaired to the bucolic country to spend a little family time before everything goes. . . bloooey!
Two days ago in the media center, while editing Miguel Seabra's revealing interview with two-time former US Open champion and Swedish tennis icon Stefan Edberg, I popped my head up from the cubicle where I work and looked out over row after row of empty cubicles - waves of what looked like white Lego pieces, each with an industrial gray, blank television sitting on it shoulders like a head. An army, ready to serve.
By late yesterday afternoon, journalists from all over the world were hunkered down in those cubicles, and many of the televisions were switched on, silently flickering. For the rule-of-thumb in the press room is that you wear your headphones - whether you're watching Karlovic vs. Fish late in the fifth set of a first-rounder, or taking a little break before or after writing to see what the ESPN team of football analysts has to say about the upcoming NFL games.
One day last week, my Italian colleague Vicenzo Martucci neglected to put on his headphones while checking sports scores on television, and a few of the other ink-stained wretches in the media center got on his case for violating an unwritten rule as powerful as the universally embraced prohibition against cheering in the press box. I told Vicenzo that he was going to be docked 5 ITWA (International Tennis Writer's Association) demerits for failing to use headphones, and he laughed. The week before the Open, for reporters as well as players, is a time to iron out the kinks, make the mistakes and adjustments, prepare to put on the know-it-all battle armor. I'm sure Vicenzo will be in fine trim by the time the event begins, because he's a pro.
The NFL season usually begins on the middle or final weekend of the US Open, and the popularity of the gladiatorial sport is such that the day features small clusters of reporters huddled around individual TV sets throughout the press room as the early games are about to end at around 4 pm. The sound of the NFL's opening day, as experienced in the media center at the USTABJKNTC, is the prodigious, collective groan that goes up from the knot of New York sportswriters (many of whom would rather be in an NFL stadium on that day) as the New York Jets fumble on their opponent's four-yard line, while trailing 17-13 with 90-seconds left on the clock. Theoretically, there's no cheering in the press box. But weeping and the gnashing of teeth is hunky-dory.
It isn't easy being a Jets fan.
Fall always "officially" begins for me with the final weekend of the US Open, The tournament usually gets rolling in the grip of humid, hot August, but by the time of the men's final, the air is thinner and crisper, the light sharper, and you feel comfortable wearing a jacket - jean or sport. It may be different this year, with the late start and the cleansing rain that passed over New York in recent days. This year marks the absolute latest starting date for the US Open, given the way it's structured around the three-day Labor Day weekend (which always is the middle weekend of the event, but moves around the calendar during the first week in September).
This rite of passage to fall is one of the charms of the Open, which hasn't always been an event known for its charm. But that's changed, too, as the tournament has gone from, essentially, a big--time shootout in a parking lot as sere and bleak as the OK corral to a dazzling fortnight that has successfully combined the appeal of a typical New York street fair, college football game, mid-town shopping spree and food festival.
I used to really dislike what I thought of as those cheesy, tennis-diluting extras - do we really need to have our breastbones vibrating to the heavy base notes rolled out by a reggae band while Fabrice Santoro is juggling tennis balls in Arthur Ashe? I used to think not, but now I like the fact that various bands are playing in these strategically placed micro-environments throughout the grounds during the typical day at Flushing Meadow. It's a nice value-added feature for those fans who aren't lucky enough to hold a ticket to Arthur Ashe stadium - or those who do, but would rather eat seasoned fries in the shade than watch the carnage a Federer or Nadal is inflicting on some poor guy from Zagreb on the field of battle.
The US Open used to be about stress and heat and sharp-elbowed New Yorkers, writing roles for themselves with typically self-absorbed chutzpah in the unfolding drama. Now it's about a relaxing all-around experience, which sounds anodyne and, well, very square. But you want hip and edgy, you can find as much of that as you can stomach if you hop in the 7 train going back toward Gotham. At the tennis center, you can tune out of the bitter on-court battles any time you wish and still find plenty to please and amuse you. It's a kinder, gentler US Open now - if you want it to be. On and around the courts, it's the tennis business as usual, which is rarely a relaxing all-around experience for the bulk of the competitors. By the end of the first of seven round of play, the dreams of 128 singles players will lie shattered on the asphalt courts.
So here we go again, with another edition of the tennis community's version of what used to be known as "back to school" time - a seasonal marker carrying us from the grip of summer and flip-flops into the crisp glories of fall and lace-up shoes. By this time tomorrow, countless fans, including many of you, will probably gather around the fountain in the big plaza in front of Arthur Ashe stadium, one of my favorite places at any tennis event, anywhere in the world.
See you there.
Hey there,
 This is just a reminder that the US Open Suicide Pool is on at TAT. If you have played it before you ought to know what to do. You can go here to play. You should find the instructions and the thread for the first day (after the OOP is announced) at that link. If you don't know how to play the Suicide Pool, read on.
The basic idea of the suicide pool (SP) is to pick for each day of the tournament (in this case the US Open) one player from the OOP who, you think, is going to win his match. If he/she wins his/her match you get to pick a fresh player from the next day's OOP. The end goal, of course, is to progress to the final and pick the eventual winner. There is a catch, in that you can only pick a player once for the entire tournament (so, for instance, you obviously want to save Ernests Gulbis for a later round)
There are separate games for the ATP and WTA draws for the open and you can play either or both of them.
Additional rules:
You have to be a registered member of TAT. Which you can become by registering through the readily available Register button.
We will be keeping track of the fortunes of the Twibe at the Suicide Pool. If you want to your name to be tracked, please indicate this with the text TW in your first day's (and only your first day's) pick. Example pick below:
***********************
Thomaz Belluci
Ptenisnet
TW.
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There will be a fresh thread open (for pick posting) at TAT for every day of the tournament. And also a thread which tracks updated results.
You have to get your picks for each day, before play starts for the day.
Hope you all play.
-Ptenisnet
 [Here's a US Open special for y'all, folks - Miguel Seabra's exclusive interview, conducted at the recent Vale do Lobo Grand Champions event. You can use this as the Saturday Your Call - Pete]
by Miguel Seabra, TW Special Correspondent
Until recently, I last saw Stefan Edberg in tennis clothes on a December weekend in 1996, in the small Swedish town of Malmoe. It was the site of the 1996 Davis Cup final, pitting Sweden against France. Ultimately, it was a disappointing weekend for the Swedes, and for me as well, because I was denied the chance to get one last look at one of my all-time favorite players. Edberg rolled his ankle in the first rubber and sat by helpless as France pulled off the upset.
A similar fate befell Edberg in the final of the recent Vale do Lobo Grand Champions, a Champions Tour event held at a beach resort in the sunny south of Portugal.
In his early matches at Vale de Lobo, against Thomas Muster followed by Henri Leconte, and Fernando Meligeni, Edberg nearly made me weep tears of joy at the grace of his backhand, the purity of his forward-pressing style, and – of course – those remarkably crisp volleys. (Just check out what his peers say about Stefan in this Algarve Antics video).
But in the final, Edberg was nursing calf and abdominal injuries. He was far from his best in a 6-3, 6-4 loss to senior newcomer Greg Rusedski, although Rusedki came up big with that murderous serve, and was unexpectedly adept at the baseline. My disappointment was slightly alleviated by the fact that the night before the final, I had the opportunity to sit with Stefan for a conversation that lasted nearly an hour. Here are some of the highlights:
Why did you come back to play? Was it pressure from the other guys? Or did you need the competition?
I’d been asked to play every year, but I was busy with my kids and not very eager to play competitive tennis. Now, my kids are older, and I wanted to see how it would be, how it would feel, to compete again. It would also motivate me to practice a little more. So I thought it was the right time to start and try it out last year.
Do you feel any different on court, have you made any adjustments in the past years?
I haven’t gained any weight, I’ve lost some muscles. I work out on a regular basis and the movement is pretty much the same – but slower. On the serve I’m not really getting up there – more like somewhere around where I used to be. I think when you don’t play enough, serving is the toughest thing to find a rhythm on. You may serve well at times, but suddenly you lose it a little bit of the flow. That’s the most difficult part of the game for me.
Did you see the Wimbledon final? As a gifted serve-and-volleyer, were you surprised at how rarely the men volleyed?
I was. It’s quite amazing – if somebody out there changed his game a little bit to serve and volley, he would benefit because he would be playing like nobody else. But at the same time, it’s not so easy to go and play serve and volley if you normally don’t do it all the time. It’s not easy to switch it on and off.
Also, I hear they really slowed the grass courts at Wimbledon by keeping the grass a little longer and they make the balls really soft, so they get heavy. That’s a nightmare for a serve and volleyer.
Even I – assuming I was one of the best serve and volleyers – would find it extremely hard to use my style under these conditions. In order to play serve and volley on grass you need a quicker environment, lighter balls, and a lower bounce. So I can sort of understand the players are not doing it.
Is Federer the best player you’ve ever seen?
I would say he’s the best I’ve seen – I never watched Rod Laver live, just a few tapes that don’t tell you much. Physically, all the players are very strong now, and they hit the ball harder than we did. We probably used the court a little bit more, but the biggest difference when you watch Federer and Nadal is that they play at such a high level for so long a period of time. They don’t seem to get tired, not even late in the fourth or fifth set.
If you had to play against a Federer or a Nadal, what would be your tactics?
Many players today are not used to playing against opponents who apply pressure all the time, like Boris Becker and Pete Sampras did, or who give them no rhythm. Since there are no serve and volleyers at the top now, it’s quite easy to return serve - a lot of times you can just block back the returns close to the baseline and get into the point. But I think if Federer served and volleyed more it might enable him to keep his momentum going longer into his career.
You faced several generations of champions and you’ve obviously been watching the last generation, what is most striking about Federer’s game?
He’s got all the weapons, but for a couple of years he was almost like a machine, the guy could not lose. He had an unbelievable streak at one stage, and when he got into a groove he would come up with the shots when needed them – it was not the other one making mistakes.
Roger’s got a good serve, he can serve and volley, he rips his forehand, he hits his backhand, he lobs – he’s almost the perfect player and he is a very great mover as well on the court.
Obviously Rafael Nadal came along to challenge him and these two guys have taken tennis to a different level because of the way they play, and over such a long period of time. In all these years I’ve been following tennis, there never was a period like these four years, when two guys dominated the game totally and faced each other in almost all the finals.
Do you feel Nadal has the upper hand in his rivalry with Federer?
At the moment, I think Nadal has got the upper hand because he knows how to play Federer. I’m really surprised that Federer doesn’t mix his game more against Nadal – he’s not going to beat Nadal from the backcourt, he needs to play more serve and volley and drop-shots or whatever, but not play Nadal’s game. That’s the only thing I always found strange, that he doesn’t try something different.
But if Federer is going to play more serve and volley, he has to do it in every match, you can’t just play one game and then switch it on; and to do it against Nadal, he has to serve and volley right from the beginning so he gets into a rhythm. It’s pretty tiring to play serve and volley, you have to be extremely fit. I believe you need to be even more fit to play serve and volley at times because the movements are so much quicker and you need to be so sharp, so it’s something you need to do for a year or two.
You have to be prepared to lose many points before you start winning most of them; you’re going to make mistakes, it takes a few years before you get fully developed because it’s just a more difficult game to play and requires more experience. What was tougher, near the end of your career – playing against that first generation of Luxilon-using returners, or your motivation?
I think it was mostly the motivation. In order to stay in the game I would have had to work more than I ever had in my life. In the last years, I probably would have to do a bit more gym-work, more upper body work, and also change a few things. But I was a bit burned out and didn’t have the motivation. If I could go back, I would change a little bit the way I was training to face that new generation coming up, because I kept training the same way.
You played against several generations of great players – who would you single out as your biggest rival?
Boris Becker was one of the toughest ones to play against. He could always raise his game on big occasions, and he did beat me more times than I did beat him, 25 to 10. But I managed to win more in Grand Slams against him, and beat him in two out of three Wimbledon finals.
You beat Chang in that great US Open semifinal in 1992 when you went to the net around 250 times in five sets lasting well over five hours. . .
The 1991 US Open final against Jim Courier was the perfect match, and that year I played so well the second week - I was like on a track. But the 1992 title is probably the one I can be the most proud of because of the way I won it. Remember, I finished the match against Ivan Lendl on Friday in the quarterfinals, played the semifinal against Michael Chang on Saturday - it lasted five hours and twenty minutes – and won the final over Pete Sampras on Sunday.
It was one of the biggest accomplishments in tennis in a long time, because it’s very unusual someone winning three five-set matches in a row in a second week - especially being down a break in the fifth in each of those matches. It’s something to be proud of.
Did you feel that you proved something with that second US Open win, because people would say you were not such a fighter because of your calm demeanour?
Yes, I think so. A few key matches can make a difference. Winning the Davis Cup campaign in 1988 sort of changed things a little bit, winning the US Open in 1992 as well. In order to get to Number One you need to be a fighter, there’s no question about it. But then, it’s how you communicate with the crowds and the television, and people do it in different ways. It’s a personality thing, some can really show what fighters they are. I always did it in a different, quieter way.
The US Open used to be such a tough tournament for most European. Why was that?
It takes time to adapt to the US Open. There are all sorts of distractions. Before, we had the airplanes coming straight over, the noise, the smell of the hot-dog stands, the heat was very hot, then sometimes it was very cold. But the most difficult part was playing at night because the lights were not very good – not good at all – and some nights it would be very nice and the following nights would be very cold and windy, so the conditions always kept on changing. And the crowds were obviously always very patriotic when we played against the US players. Quite a few distractions…
With the US Open around the corner, will you miss being there and all the action at Flushing Meadows?
I don’t miss it too much, I had my time, I had a lot of years at the US Open and it requires a lot of work to be there – but at the same time you miss part of it, because there was a lot of fun playing at the Open. It was the most difficult place to get used to, but at the same time it was fascinating playing there, especially the night matches when you were playing some American players and the place could get really loud with a lot of excitement. That’s the part you really miss.
By Jackie Roe, TW Social Director Evening, TWibe! Glad to see y'all back here after the hiatus - that Cincinnati trip took a lot out of me! Speaking of my trip, I'll have more on that in just a bit.
For those of you attending the US Open, GVGirl sent me some info about her US Open tailgate in conjunction with Talk About Tennis. Here are the details: The gathering will take place before play on Saturday, 9/5, from 10-11 AM. Everyone will be meeting on the benches closest to the Unisphere. Please RSVP on the TAT Tailgate thread (click here) or by sending GVGirl a private message on TAT. You can also RSVP in our TW Facebook group, TennisWorld > World.
GVGirl also informed me that El Jon Wertheim linked to her US Open Tips in his mailbag last week - have a look here. Way to go, GVGirl! (While we're at it ... take a minute to visit GVGirl's website, Global Village Tennis News; her alter ego Kourtin' Karen has been busy on USO party patrol and covering player photo op events like the Nike ones with Rafa, Serena, and Roger. She says she has some big news to share this weekend, so stay tuned!)
As you probably gathered from my Cincy reports last week, I had the time of my life there. I've finally uploaded my photos, which you can access here; compared to my other tennis adventures, I didn't capture very many, but there's still something for everyone (FoOPs, most of all!).
Taking markedly fewer photos this time around wasn't the only difference between this trip and the others I've taken. It was a unique experience in a multitude of ways, all owed to the fact that I was a member of the media. The fan vs. press experiences are pretty disparate, and I thought you'd be interested in hearing more about it ...
To begin, members of the media don't watch nearly as much tennis as you'd expect. The majority of these folks stayed in the media room above Centre Court all day and night, typing away and only occasionally glancing up from their laptops to catch some of the action. Very rarely did other media personnel join me in our courtside seats on Centre Court (the best in the house - how does one resist that?!) and I almost never saw them taking in the tennis on the outer courts or wandering the grounds.
I wasn't about to make such a sacrifice - hanging out in the media room instead of the courts. (And besides that, I would've had little to do there, considering I didn't bring a computer with me and only had to write an informal report once a day.) My favorite part of attending tournaments is being amongst all the spectators and soaking up as much tennis action as possible. If I wasn't interested in any of the matches, no matter - I was happy to stroll around the practice courts instead. (Being in the sun is also a priority for me on these trips, since I rarely take vacations ... these are my vacations!)
Of course, I imagine most tennis journalists have little desire to sweat like a heifer in a hot tub under the blazing sun only to watch match #toomanytocount between players who wouldn't present fodder for an interesting story in the first place. If this hadn't been my first tournament as a member of the press (and more like my 31st as it was for many, no doubt) and I had deadlines to attend to, I'd probably hole myself up in the media room, too.
Having the media pass also meant being professional. At all times. (Well, I suppose I could've relaxed outside of the grounds, but I took that pass seriously and didn't want to be mistaken for a journalist one minute and a fangirl the next.) I kept my cool around the players - or at least I think I did! - and didn't approach them for photos like I'd done in the past. And as noted earlier, I took it easy on the photos even on the grounds. Two reasons: (1) I'd amassed enough from the past couple of trips to last a lifetime(!) and (2) my new attitude prompted me to view players in a different light - not so much as international superstars but just as guys playing my favorite sport at a very, very high level. And how many shots of that do you need? (Some of you are probably snickering to yourselves, as my album does include nearly 300 photos. But across three days, I'd say that's showing quite a bit of restraint!)
I refrained from showing my rooting interests during matches, as well. Impartiality was important, I thought, so no "Allez"s or "Let's go, Rog!"s were uttered. Holding it all in was uncomfortable at first but I quickly adjusted ... and in the end, I quite liked this new approach to experiencing matches. It ensured that I stayed calm and appreciated all that was happening on the court, without focusing too heavily on who'd come out on top.
 In the end, what struck me most was the singular relationship shared by players and the media, an interaction that bears little resemblance to that between players and fans (as well it should). It's difficult to label it as anything in particular - like a divide, or love-hate. I can't put my finger on it, really. In some ways, the player-media relationship is a dance, where both parties have to cooperate with one another to reach their end goals. And in others, it's more like a joust, what with competing agendas and a sense of entitlement (to serving one's own interests) felt by both sides. It's a fascinating dynamic, one I'd love to further explore in the future.
Have any of you reflected on your live tennis experiences in this way? Have you considered what is it about being a fan that excites you most and what you would/wouldn't compromise? (Maybe you're a member of the Samurai and couldn't dream of not actively cheering for your guy ... )
I'd also invite you guys to share your USO predictions here; if you're tired of predictions, go with a "wish list" instead. What do you want to happen? Who would you like to see break through? What matchup are you itching to see and which one would you want to go 5 sets under the lights? Who deserves the most crowd support? You get the gist.
Have a great weekend, TWibe ... and happy birthday once again to Andrew! Let's celebrate!
By TW Contributing Editor Andrew Burton
 Morning, all.
Brits, Australians, South Africans, Indians, West Indians and other members of the cricket diaspora will recognize 50 not out as a decent knock, but no great feat. In tennis terms, it's the equivalent, I suppose, of winning a Masters 500 - your family and friends take notice, but the rest of the world is likely more interested in whether Michael Vick can still scramble past defensive linemen in a pre season game, or how the Japanese Little League team is doing at the World Series.
Today marks 50 not out for me, and Pete has kindly allowed me to mark the occasion with this Your Call. I spoke with Pete briefly yesterday: he's in full swing for the start of the US Open, with a Tribe social event lined up for the middle weekend of the tournament. I'm sure it'll be a terrific event - a virtual community is one thing, but nothing cements relationships like meeting face to face, preferably with a GE or two in the mix.
It's been three years since I made my first comment at TennisWorld, a characteristically geeky post using a decision tree to analyze the potential outcomes of the 2006 Wimbledon SFs and F (if memory serves, I had Federer 98% over Bjorkman, Nadal 65% over Baghdatis, and Federer 75% over Nadal). Since then, there's been a bunch of geek stuff - the Picks Games, stats analyses of the ATP Open Era Elite, and even an attempt to run Monte Carlo simulations on Nadal's and Federer's chances of getting a calendar year Grand Slam. That post confused more people than Sarah Palin's attempts to explain how she was stepping down as Alaska governor to give a point guard an open shot.
I've also had fun with a Site Rules compliant story of the Federer/Nadal bromance, Encounter in Red, and sounded off on why the CBS commentary team should be more like silent Steve Ulrich.
Even more amazingly, I've had the experience of working with Pete, Steve Tignor, Kamakshi Tandon, Joel Drucker and other journalists covering Masters 1000 tournaments at Indian Wells and Toronto in 2008 and 2009. Writers like Asad Raza and Ed McGrogan were commenters to TennisWorld before they were contributors to Tennis magazine: Rosangel's action photos from the European clay and grass tournaments can be placed alongside the best of reuters and Getty.
But I'll keep coming back to friendships - some coming from long, almost interminable discussions about who is or who isn't the GOAT (or a member of several sub species, goatus numericus, goatus aestheticus, or goatus dentroadmirabilus). Others have literally popped up initially as a text message on my computer screen, with online chats going late into the night about whether players respect their opponents too much, or just can't handle the shots they hit. Binding us all together is a love of the game - some as players, some as ex-players, some (where have you gone, Chris Lewis?) Wimbledon finalists, some just wannabes.
Wherever you find it, community is precious. Keeping a spirit of passionate but civil debate alive about a sport which retains the power to provoke, amaze and delight has been Pete's mission, and steggy's (alas), and the current crew who make TW work. That includes all who watch, read, lurk and post, whether out of joy, despair, a desire for comfort or just a need to figure out who can be no 2 at the end of the week.
So, the picture I've attached is me applauding all of you - Pete, who makes it all possible, the Mods for keeping it pleasant, Sylvia (who's put up with this blog taking up more of my free time than she bargained for three years ago), a few coaches who've tried and failed to teach me a consistent service toss, and all the friends I've made (including the ones I've disagreed with) over the past three years. A votre santé.
This is, among other things, your Your call for today. Enjoy today's tennis!
by Pete Bodo
Well, I learned something new about Venus Williams today; she'd make a terrible pirate because merely setting foot on a boat makes her queasy - and this is a girl who spent most of her formative years in proximity to the pretty beaches near her home in Palm Beach Gardens. So what was originally conceived as a little cruise around the East River near the United Nations headquarters turned into a dockside photo shoot and media photo-op.
This little dry-land cruise was arranged by a sponsor of Venus's, the makers of a familiar sports drink spinoff, Powerade Zero. One of the nice things about writing a weblog is that when the makers of something like Powerade call to say they can get you some time with Venus - if you promise to mention the product - you can say, "Sure, why not, nice of you to ask!" I'm not here to protect the citizenry from the horrors of the market place; last I checked, we're a consumer society with a robust interest in products - even when the main appeal of said products is that they're "green," or "healthy."
But there's more - this media event took place on the far East Side of Manhattan, at the 35th St water taxi dock. Throughout the US Open, Powerade will be running free ferry and bus service to the National Tennis Center, which is an option you visitors to New York in the next few weeks ought to keep in mind. There are a lot worse ways to traverse the water to Queens than by water taxi; my only concern would be the logistics - just how many passengers can the ferry/bus set-up move from Manhattan to the USTABJKNTC in any given time frame? But it would certainly be worth checking out, especially if you're staying nearby.
The taxi dock is a clean, busy place - picturesque in its own urban, quayside way. While I studied the churning waters of the East River for signs of marauding bluefish or striped bass (the "river" has quite a rip at certain times of day, depending on the tide), I called Bobby Chintapalli, one of my two WTA gurus (Master Ace is the other). What would Bobby ask Venus about, I wondered, having learned long ago that I can go to a lot shakier sources than you regular readers for counsel. It's especially true on the WTA side of things, which tend to get short shrift around here.
Bobby reminded me that Venus, now 29, is the oldest player in the top 10 (see what I mean?) and she wondered: How does Venus feel, being the granny of the WTA tour?
By the time Venus showed up, fashionably late, a few dozen paparazzi types and videographers were waiting. It pains me to say it, but she walked like a veteran, banged up athlete - as if she were stiff and sore. But oh my, what a specimen she is. Despite being at a bunch of tournaments with her this year, I hadn't noticed until today how much she's filled out recently - the gap between lean and leggy and dense and muscular has been narrowed, and the best word I can come up to describe her physique is "formidable." She radiates power and speed; you almost want to slap a hood ornament on her.
She also happens to be awfully pretty; I always thought so. Today she wore pale blue hip-hugger tights and a gray t-shirt advertising her sponsor. She posed for a few snaps as soon as arrived on the dock, and she looked pretty sexy (and turned coquettish) when someone asked her to don a ferry pilot's cap. Venus posed for a few more snaps in the pilot house, and then we all went below, into the air-conditioned, clean passenger area - theoretically to conduct a few one-on-one interviews. The boat wasn't moving much, but Venus suddenly decided that she'd rather be on dry land, so we trouped off the ferry and she fulfilled the rest of her commitments on the firm footing of the concrete dock.
These sponsor appearances are different from the typical media engagements that are part of every tennis player's professional life. There's nothing adversarial about them - the media who turn up usually know little or nothing about tennis, and merely want a few nice sound bites from a high-value celebrity. Venus knew how to work the proverbial room; she was charming. She eventually came over to me, letting down the guard that characterizes her when she's hard at the business of trying to win tennis tournaments. She had a big smile on her face, hand extended, and said she was surprised (a scruffy tennis journalist among the fashionistras!) and glad to see me there.
Maybe I should spend more time at these sponsor things, instead of in that torture chamber called the press interview room, where players are put through the wringer at a time when they're most vulnerable, tense, or both.
Well, it's another year, another Open," I said.
"Not exactly.I don't see it that way at all." Her eyes lit up: "It's more like, wow, here we are, it's the Open!"
But you are the grand old dame of the WTA, if you don't mind the characterization. You're the oldest player in the Top Ten.
"Yeah, but no wrinkles yet." She touched the corners of her eyes, as if to prove her point. So it feels great."
How are you feeling after your up and down summer?
"Well, you know, I didn't have an ideal summer. But you know me, I never base my next match off my last one - whether it was good or bad. But it's nice to have the maturity to understand that it's all about the moment - being in the moment and capitalizing on the moment. That's what it's going to be about. And you know, sometimes its tough to play the summer - especially after Wimbledon. So next year, I might do something a little different, maybe take a few weeks off after Wimbledon."
Do you feel any special incentive, given that you were unable to defend your Wimbledon title? Is this a good last shot to make a big statement for the year?
"Well, its the last one we have, Slam-wise, so yeah. But everybody in the draw is thinking, ' I want to win this one, it's the last Slam of the year.' Also sometimes when you're out there on the court in the last major of the year you can find yourself thinking, 'I can't miss, I'd better be good and make this ball'. . . That's not a great approach - it's important to be relaxed going into the Open, but I also know that I'm going to go in there to play ball."
You're playing doubles again with Serena, any concern about the potential fatigue element, given the split sessions, the heat and all that?
I think we're prepared. We've been working pretty hard and doing the right things, staying strong. And we love playing doubles, so we don't see it as a problem at all. We haven't played here together in, what, nine years? That's nine titles we didn't get a chance to win. And since we started playing, I don't know how many doubles majors we've won together - I think three? Maybe five? [they have four] So it's been exciting for us to start winning those."
Do you talk with the Bryan brothers at all about sibling doubles?
"No, never, but maybe we should. . ."
You've played your way through a couple of generations now - the Steffi Grafs, the Hingeses and Henins, now you've got a new crop, with the Jankovics and Azarenkas and Wozniackis. Is there a noticeable difference between those generations?
"Oh, they're better now. All the players. Much better. Back in the day, Steffi was the only one actually playing tennis, and nobody else seemed to want to pick her game up to try to get to that level - at least not until Monica (Seles) came along. But then Serena and I came on pretty hard and running fast, and it was like everybody seemed to say, 'No, no no. . . you're not going to run all over us, we're going to do our best to do the same things you're doing'. So the overall level has gone up. These women today are better athletes. They're better trained, there's better knowledge out there in every area, and they're using it. Even down to things like physiclal therapy and fitness. I think if anything, it's gotten more intense."
Do you see any of the younger players as particularly dangerous?
"Oh, they all are dangerous. It's because they all have so much desire. Those are the keys - desire and the ability to fight. Even if a girl isn't the best player out there, it's more likely now that she'll be a fighter - that's what I see out there. Nobody wants to give you anything."
But some of these girls, they hit a wall. Their desire seems to fade and they go on auto-pilot, whether they consciously want to or not. Has that ever happened to you, where you couldn't bring yourself to care?
"No, and I'll tell you why. Because I hate losing. Losing is the first - and last - wall I hit."
Our brief, alloted time was up, and I thanked Venus, who thanked me for coming and said she'd see me out at the tennis. The next time I see her, she may be less open, less relaxed, and that's as it should be for a superb athlete who's knocked down every wall she's hit and found a way to come back strong. I'm glad they play this US Open on cement, instead of water.
 Greetings, everyone. Just a quick blogging update as the days pick up in pace prior to the US Open: Today, I'm going on some kind of boat ride with captain Venus Williams. From what I can make out, it's a promotion for her deal with the makers of a new sports drink (just what the world needs!), Powerade Zero. I guess these folks are serious - they'll be running free ferry service from the East Side of Manhattan to Queens, and then a free bus to the National Tennis Center, aka the USTABJKNTC - for the duration of the Open. I'll scope it out, get a few thoughts from Venus, and get back to you with a report later today.
Meanwhile, I'm a little bummed tonight because I promised my boy Luke that if he did four days of summer math homework,he could have the Lego Indiana Jones video game (for Windows) that he's been jabbering on about for a month now. Well, he finally fulfilled his requirements and I bought the game, only to find it won't load or run right on any of our laptops; one of them doesn't have a DVD capable CD, although it plays audio CDs just fine. Another won't recognize the disk in the drive. Our best one loads the game off the DVD drive, installs the software (the game is almost 4 gigs) and then tells me it can't run unless I disable the detected "emulators" and "virtual drive(s)."
I have no idea what they're talking about, but if anyone of you have a clue, please email me via the contact tab. Enjoy the tennis, I'm sure Master Ace has some high-grade intel for you this morning!
-- Pete
by Pete Bodo
Yesterday, I spent a pleasant afternoon at the qualifying event for the US Open. Call me perverse, but this event has become one of my favorites of the year. That you can just walk in, free, is quite amazing in this day and age (even though that tends not to be an issue for a pro freeloader like me).
And with many of the concessions open and an army of electricians and other workmen tinkering with everything from the Jumbotron in the food court to the makeship ESPN open-air studio, there's a gratifying sense of both activity and an exciting undercurrent of imminence. You know something big and maybe even special is going to be happening here soon. It's a little like being on an elaborate set during a movie shoot. That's the background against which all the grunting and grinding takes place, and the cries of anguish or joy (sometimes alternating from the same larynx) pierce the thick, moist August air.
It can be be brutal out in the midday sun in Queens at this time of year, but the upside is that by around 4 pm, the light is turning molten and the sun no longer bores through your shirt or hat. As the day deepens, a pleasant softness descends on the United States Tennis Association Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, known here mostly as the acronym of acronyms, the USTABJKNTC. Late in the day, the colors that were bleached out by the harsh sunlight just hours earlier are fully saturated and everyone on site catches a second wind and feels more comfortable idling away the day, watching tennis of the highest quality.
Qualifying attracts an interesting group of fans, starting with the real tennis aficionados. Half a dozen people said "Hi" and introduced themselves as TennisWorld readers while I walked around, and none of them were familiar to me as comment posters. I also bumped into a few more familiar and/or involved people of the Twibe, including Susan Kim (with her husband, Alex) and - this will bring a smile to many of your lips - Snoo Foo.
My main order of business was watching Nicole Vaidisova play Yung-Jan Chan, of Taipei. I don't want to write too much about this one, because I'm working on something substantial relating to Vaidisova for Tennis magazine, but I'll say this much: Vaidisova, who lost the first set because she played an atrocious tiebreaker, won the second set, and promptly fell behind 0-4 in the third, reminded me of a Partner B in a fairly common domestic situation that works like this:
Partner A asks a simple question in a normal, clear voice.
Partner B replies, "What?"
Partner A says (or in the case of most happily married couples, merely thinks): What, "What?", are you deaf? You're a million mile away!
In this match, Chan was asking the questions and Vaidisova was answering, What?" You can get away with that on the sofa or the seat of the truck, but it doesn't usually work out too well for the spacey one on a tennis court. Vaidisova's four-game blackout cost her the match; you can't play winning tennis, even in a qualifying event, when mentally a million miles away and in most cases don't even know that's where you are.
I know from experience that this kind of thing happens to many serious recreational players, too, usually from sheer overplaying. It's a form of mental burn-out, which can be but isn't necessarily curable. The only reason you don't see it more often on the pro tour is because nobody in the grip of it lasts long enough for you to see it happening. I think this is, partly, what happened to Marcelo Rios, as well as to Bjorn Borg, who was in the grip of the "What?" monster during his brief, aborted comeback (some of you will remember that he was actually whistling to himself during some matches). And let's not forget Marat Safin, who's been asking, "What?" for a long time now.
Anyway, after Vaidisova lost, I took a little tour of the grounds - where fewer than half of the 64 matches scheduled for the day had been played. Free entry ensures a diverse crowd, an odd mixture of dedicated students of the game in their age-softened polo shirts and scuffed tennis shoes, teen-agers who may or may not care much about tennis, but like ogling their attractive and only slightly-older if considerably more accomplishwed peers, local coaches with their prized students, and young families. If you have any doubt about whether or not players can (instead of merely "want to") play with people wandering about all around them, including in the bleachers, you ought to see them block out the distractions during qualifying.
During the Chang-Vaidisova tiebreaker, for example, a somewhat unkept but respectable woman strolled in, right along the little fence alongside the sideline. There was a kid of about 10 with her. The woman plopped down and the kid leaned against the fence, nose over the edge, just behind the Chang's chair. "Tommy," the mother suddenly asked. "Where's Jack?"
The kid turned and shrugged, like maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that his pain-in-the-butt kid brother had gotten lost somewhere between the Willets Point subway stop and Court 4 at the USTABJKNTC.
Panicked, the mother jumped to her feet, grabbed Tommy, and went off to find Jack.
Neither player seemed to notice.
The emblem of qualifying is the backwards-worn baseball cap (is there a better symbol for the gritty, borderline desperate nature of the enterprise?), and the sound track is grunt. The aspiring main-draw players seem to need to grunt for the same reason as most successful pros: the grunt is both a signal of self-affirmation and a declaration of effort. The qualifying players grunt extra-loud because they, by definition, are the ones most achingly in need of self-affirmation. As statements go, a grunt is an easier one to make than is a cross-court backhand pass at game-point down. At times, I wanted to grab one of these kids by the scruff of the neck and, marshaling my most authoritative tone, exclaim: Roger Federer don't grunt!
But there's another, more attractive sound, at qualifying. It's the almost painful Splat! of a tennis ball being absolutely, positively crushed. Now, that's music to our ears, right? And I'm not talking about the pleasant pock! (I think John McPhee described it as the sound of champagne corks popping, and I can't do better than that) of a ball hit nicely, right on the sweet spot. I'm talking about the big, fierce, perfectly timed cut that wipes the smiley-face off your typical happily traveling tennis ball and leaves the poor little thing so caved in that the rubber skin inside the ball comes perilously close to touching itself across the inside diameter of the ball.
Now that's tennis, folks: Splat! Perfection. Any Questions?
Here and there throughout the grounds you can often see a qualifier doing some oddball exercise under the watchful eye of an inevitably grave-looking coach. I saw one girl doing kind of a chicken-dance (the one made famous by the San Francisco 49ers defensive back, Merton Hanks - YouTube, anyone?), and another doing a painful-looking torso-twisting exercise. I suspect coaches make up half this stuff, just because they reckon it at least looks different and cutting edge in a sports-science way. As we all know, in tennis perception is reality, so if you believe your coach is some kind of genius, chances are you'll also be able to make that forehand go Splat!
One player who might know whereof I speak is Zuzana Kucova, a young Slovak who notched up a win over Alexandra Panova, 6-4 in the third. I happened to stop by Court 14 in my wanderings, and stood just behind Kucova's coach, who was seated in the corner of the aluminum bleachers closest to the north baseline, His protege was down a set, but fighting gamely; in fact, the two baseliners seemed to me so evenly matched that I could easily imagine a third-set tiebreaker ending 10,234/10,232 - or with a priest rushing on the court to adminster last rites to both girls before the match was decided.
Kucova's coach kept up a running commentary through most of the points when his charge was nearby: Yeah, use her speed. . . Watch the ball. . . Get her out of balance . . . I don't know if this kind of thing qualifies as coaching, or merely cheerleading; the line between the two is more blurred than either the bureaucrats or anti-coaching advocates are likely to admit.
Besides, what could possibly be more unnerving and/or distracting for a player than having a coach shouting or signaling instructions during the flow of play. Oh, I know it's been done; and often, small adjustments can make a huge difference (as when Pete Sampras's former coach, the late Tim Gullikson, simply told Pete to take a lefty's serve from four or five feet further over to the backhand side. That's why guys like Gullikson get the big money.). But coaching can often confuse as much as it clarifies, and if you're still skeptical, figure out how many pearls of wisdom you've plucked up off the hard court during one of those telecasts featuring that absurd WTA on-court coaching experiment?
At one point, Kucova won a point and walked toward her coach.
"Breathe, breathe," he called in a hoarse stage whisper.
The hefty little blonde immediately began to inhale and exhale, like a flight attendant demonstrating the use of the oxygen mask. Then she turned away from her coach and stopped breathing again. Well, almost. She had enough air to bang her way to the second round of qualifying, anyway.
 I also went to check out Jerzy Janowicz, a Polish youth who's said to be the "next Ivo Karlovic." For those of you who may not know, the current Ivo Karlovic is the 6-10 (2.08m) Croatian whose gigantic serve puts the fear of Godot in one and all. John Lloyd, the the former player, husband of Chris Evert, and British broadcaster, was ducking out of the bleachers just as I arrived. "What are you doing here," I asked.
"Davis Cup," replied Lloyd, who captains the UK squad. "We have Poland next. I wanted to see this kid."
"What do you think?"
"He's got amazing power, he really is like Karlovic. That serve is quite the weapon. But he's. . . raw. Very raw. He was down 5-6 in the first set and serving to stay in it and he missed his first serve six consecutive times. But when his first goes in, it's dangerous."
I watched Janowicz for a bit and liked what I saw, if not for entirely aesthetic or technical reasons. The kid is lean as a whippet, loose-limbed, and he's got a sharp, wolf-like face. When he hit a double-fault, he bellowed deeply, as befitting a goliath. You could hear his guttaral complaint five courts distant. His expression ranged from surly to annoyed, and I liked the way he sometimes just stepped up to the line and let 'er go, as if to say, Here you go, let's see what you can do with this one!
Janowicz's opponent, a nice Italian player named Andrea Stoppini, fought the good fight but he went down, three-in-the-third. This Janowicz is going to be fun to watch in the years to come. The powderkegs always are.
My last stop for the day was to check out Xavier Malisse, who was in a knock-down, drag-out with the no. 2 seed, Argentina's Horacio Zeballos. Malisse lost the first set, 5-7, and it was tight in the second when it got there. I had trouble watching, though, because of the get-up Malisse was wearing. He still has that samurai topknot, but his shorts and shirt were black, with conspicous chartreuse trim snaked all over it. And the shirt was embroidered (or something) above his left breast with glittering silver sequins in a shape something like a claw. The trim seemed quite a distraction, coruscating and sparkling, but Zeballos made no complaint. He just kept hammering those backhands and forehands, broke Malisse's will, and won an easy third set, 6-1.
Sometimes, there's nothing even a samurai in sequins can do if you can make the ball go splat!
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