28 posts categorized "August 2011"
by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—Today, we're going to try something a little different. With 23 players from the U.S. in action in various events on sundry courts, I'm going to keep a running diary of their fortunes, all the way until the end of tonight's feature match on Ashe between two American men, Andy Roddick and Michael Russell. So return to this page periodically for updates on the red, white and blue contenders.
11:27 AM—I'm just getting my computer fired up and gulping down one of the free Oikos Greek yogurts (peach and mango, if you want know) provided in the press restaurant when I hear a muted roar. It's coming from over on Louis Armstrong stadium, the Louee, where determined and talented 16-year-old Madison Keys from Rock Island, Ill leads Lucie Safarova just won the first set. Time to get to work.
12:30 PM—Safarova has a set point in set two, thanks to an ill-advised drop shot that Martina Navratilova, commentating on the Tennis Channel, describes as, "first shot Madison has hit that looks like something a 16-year old would do." Keys' eighth double-fault takes the 5-6 game back to deuce. But she gets the ad again with a great backhand approach off the Safarova's service return; Keys is 9 for 9 at the net. The third double-fault of the game by Keys takes it back to deuce. Another poor drop shot gives Safarova the set. Keys seems to be running out of gas; as a result, she's making more and more of the mistakes you expect of a typical teen.
1:24 PM—You have to feel for Madison Keys; she had numerous chances late in the second set to close out the match, and led by a break at least once in the third, but once again the veteran - Safarova - found a way to pull it out, despite having been behind 0-5 in the first set. Afterward, Safarova tells Tracy Austin: "The crowd was quite fair and nice . . . she (Keys) was serving well and she has a very good forehand. She was pushing me, I had to fight. It was a tough match."
A tough match and a missed opportunity, although Keys will have plenty more in the months and years to come. In any event, there's your first American casualty of the day. I have a feeling it won't be the last.
1:38 PM—Court 7 is one of the best courts at Flushing Meadows. It has a tall, permanent grandstand on the east side, where you feel right on top of the action. When I arrive, Ryan Sweeting is up 6-4—but down a break at 3-4 in the second set to Uzbekistan's Dennis Istomin. If you saw Istomin at a Starbucks and were asked his nationality, I can't imagine you'd come up with "Uzbek." He's light-skinned with light brown, curly hair. Could be from nearby Manhasset. There's a lesson in there somewhere; not every Uzbek has a beard and an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
Sweeting, on the other hand, looks American as apple pie to me, and not just because he's dressed in Nike head-to-toe. He's got the skinniest legs since James Blake, and on top of that he's into the ankle socks that are all the rage among U.S. players (does Mardy Fish get royalties?). Sweeting is a lean 6'5" and from a distance you could mistake him for Todd Martin. He has a chestnut tan; smallish, well-proportioned features and carries himself in a leisurely but confident way. He would have made a good cowpuncher. A Hollywood one, anyway.
Anyway, Sweeting has a nice history here—this was the first Grand Slam he ever played (2006) and he won a match that year. Today, he's whacking his forehand awfully well and breaks back to even the set at four games each. Could it be? Will we have another U.S. man in the second round (Donald Young booked a place there yesterday)? Well, not so fast. . .
After a trade of holds, Sweeting hits a beautiful, heavily-wristed, snap forehand pass on the dead run to go up 30-15. He twirls and in one commanding motion points to the ballboy, the tennis esperanto for "Get me the towel." It looks like he's completely in charge, but at 30-all he puzzlingly hits a loose forehand wide and suddenly he's down break point. He misses his first serve, and the second serve doesn't bounce until it's nearly at Istomin's baseline.
Game, Istomin. Sweeting calls for the towel again, but this time it's without authority, a weak gesture in which his frustration is evident.
As if that's not bad enough, Sweeting wins the first two points against Istomin in the next game but surrenders that advantage with two errors. Istomin blows a volley to give Sweeting a break point—or tiebreaker point—but the Americna wrenches a forehand approach into the net. Pfffft. A poor backhand service return and another out-of-control forehand error from Sweeting, and Istomin has the second set.
Sweeting takes his anger out on an innocent ball and earns a code violation for hitting it toward the elevated subway platform in Jackson Heights. Did I mention that the rap on Sweeting is that he's a bit of a head case?
4:07 PM—Well, Sweeting went down some time ago and Christina McHale has put up a spectacular win over Marion Bartoli. Go USA! If anyone's getting it done, it's the women, although we suffered a major blow when Venus Williams withdrew, citing an autoimmune disease known as Sjogren's Syndrome. But I'm on Court 11, where Steve Johnson is doing the macabre cramp dance. When a player is cramping, it looks like he's a puppet and suddenly the strings have been attached to electrical terminals. They're jerking him in all the wrong places. Thankfully, it's rarely as painful an experience as it looks.
Johnson is cramping at the worst possible time—at 1-all in the fourth-set tiebreaker of his match with fellow American Alex Bogomolov Jr. Johnson, a 6'2" native of Orange, Ca., is ranked No. 525, but he recently won the NCAA singles title (he's playing at USC) and earned a U.S. Open wild card for his achievement. Bogomolov is having a career year; he was ranked No. 167 at the start of 2011 and is presently loving life at No. 44.
Johnson was mounting a desperate effort to reverse the tide in a match that had already seen one enormous shift of momentum: Johnson had won the first two sets, but Bogomolov fought back and won the third. The fourth set was a inconclusive tug of war right up to the tiebreaker.
Johnson's success flowed from a reliance on a Bernard Tomic-like vision of the game. He used a combination of off-pace groundstrokes, mostly hit with the backhand (he's adept at both one-handed slice and the two-handed drive, which makes Johnson a model for the next wave of players—why have to choose between them?), freely mixed with big forehand blasts.
Johnson's forehand is a little rough looking, the punch thrown by a barroom brawler rather than a highly trained and disciplined fighter, but it's effective nonetheless. And Johnson's general feel and overall skill level gives him a lot of technical leeway—he frequently hits shots that look better suited to squash (although they can be waspishly effective) and he's too liberal with his use of the drop shot. (The drop shot/lob combo, an amateurish ploy that, Johnson will learn, ATP pros dismiss with utter contempt.) Johnson's mother is a math professor, which kind of makes sense once you see her boy exploiting the angles. He's that welcome and rare creature, the player who's first and foremost "interesting."
Bogomolov is much more of a meat-and-potatoes man, a former prodigy of whom much was expected. But he matured slowly and has just recently found his most effective game, and mentality, at age 28. True to his lifelong identity as a journeyman, Bogomolov wears his trucker cap backwards (presumably to protect his scalp, for he's got a modest mohawk), and today he was attired in black shorts, socks and shoes. Just looking at him, you can probably conjure up smell of stale sweat and other locker room odors. But don't underestimate his diligence and patience, the single quality most valuable against an unpredictable, creative player like Johnson.
But those cramps. . . The first one hit after each player held his service point for 1-1. Bogomolov won the next point with an overhead, after which Johnson began dancing in pain, clutching the quads and hamstrings on either leg. He served the next two points and, impaired, quickly lost them both. He looked up at the umpire as if he could find some help there, but the man just shrugged. Still, Johnson asked him to telephone for the trainer. But the tiebreaker would not be stopped; it was over quickly, Bogomolov winning it, 7-3.
Cramps are thought to be the result of tension and/or anxiety combined with improper hydration. Harold Solomon, once a Top 10-pro and later a coach, drank pickle juice (right off the supermarket shelf; all he had to do was find a pickle-lover to take the contents) because of its high salinity. What does it say about the top players that they never suffer from cramps?
Anyway, Bogomolov went on to take the fifth set. He advances, and that's fine—he has much ground to make up. Johnson by contrast has much to learn, and a good game to gather that knowledge with.
7:16 PM—Jack Sock is in trouble; he won the first two sets against one of the most dangerous slap-shot artists this side of the NHL, Marc Gicquel. But Gicquel found his range in the third set, capitalized on an early break and narrowed Sock's lead to one set. By the start of the fourth set, both men were swinging from the heels and raiding the net at every opportunity (the average set lasted just over 36 minutes, which is about the same amount of time it takes for Novak Djokovic to get the magic number of bounces before he serves, or for Rafael Nadal to arrange his water bottles).
It's hardly surprising that this "big game" style comes easily to Sock, a solidly built, 6'1" Nebraska boy of just 18. He routinely tags serves in the 130-plus range and has a wicked wrist-snap forehand. But Gicquel is another story. For one thing, he's French, and you know those folks can get a little, well, complicated. On the other hand, he was born in Tunisia and that may explain why he skews more toward the straighforward and explosive, risk-laden game—following in the footsteps of those other mercurial north Africans, Younes el Aynaoui and Hicham Arazi.
Sock would make an interesting third leg on a tripod with John Isner and Sam Querrey (provided Querrey finds his game and desire again); he's as powerful as either of them and moves better than both. But he faltered and surrendered his service game for the first break of the fourth set, and suddenly Gicquel was serving for a 4-2 lead. But Gicquel, whose game was sizzling for a set and a half, began to go cold in the very next game. Sock broke back and consolidated the break with an overpowering hold at love, one of the points a 133 MPH ace.
The next thing you know, Gicquel was serving to stay in the match at 4-5. That's always a tough assignment, because it invites your opponent to lay on maximum pressure. Sock jumped to a 30-15 lead, and during the next point he hit a forehand blast that the linesperson called out—and immediately reversed. Gicquel challenged, and I'm not sure why the chair umpire referred the case to Hawkeye; no matter what the result, a reversed call always demands a replay of the point. But when Hawkeye confirmed that Sock's shot was indeed in, the American youngster had every reason lose his composure, given the difference between 30-all and 15-40 (and two match points). But Sock played a solid point to force an error and win the point again. Double match point.
Gicquel hit an ace to eliminate one of them, but he made a backhand error in the next point to give Sock the first Grand Slam singles win of his life. I have a feeling it won't be his last.
8:03 PM—Robby Ginepri is almost 29 and playing in his 12th Grand Slam. He defeated Joao Souza on the Grandstand—immediately after McHale's very welcome blow for the U.S. game. It was Ginepri's first win on a Grand Slam stage since the spring of 2010. When he arrived in the main press interview room, aka Room One, there was exactly one reporter waiting to speak with him.
8:42 PM—McHale, Bogomolov, Ginepri, Isner, Sock. . . their matches were overlapping and impossible for one man to cover. I had planned to catch some of the Isner v. Marcos Baghdatis match on Louis Armstrong, but opted for Sock. And here I was, in the interview room, listening to him describe how he came to the decision to turn pro, instead of attending college.
Bear in mind that this is a kid who likes to finish what he starts and considers it an honor to compete for his school; he played high school tennis all four years (which is unheard of, for a world-class junior) less because of the teen credibility he earned with his record (a perfect 80-0) than because he didn't want to let down his teammates or his school. I asked if he agonized over the decision to turn pro instead of accepting any one of the pile of tennis scholarships he was offered.
"Not all along. Even after I won the juniors here last year I was telling myself I was going to go to college. And then I think once my game developed and once I was doing things well in practice and getting some results out on the futures, challengers, lower‑level ATP tournaments, I just felt ready. I felt everything came together. I felt very good about my game. Here I am."
I wondered how Sock managed to keep a cool head and a steady hand when Gicquel mounted his fightback. Was he worried in that fourth set that it was all going to slip away?
"Yeah, I mean, I guess. . . No, I wouldn't say 'worried.' I was probably more alert after I got broken (for 2-3) , for sure. He was serving pretty well. I knew I had to buckle down, get the break back and stay in the set, which I did.Then just played a pretty good set from there. Finally got the break at the end."
He may be just 18, but he already knows how to grade his own performance, and deliver the short version when asked.
9:15 PM—Isner knocked off Baghdatis; his reward is a match against his friend and countryman, Ginepri. So another American is guaranteed to be out of the tournament after the second round, but one guaranteed to make it to the third. In his press conference, Isner said: "It will be a lot of fun, I know the crowd will be split down the middle. Two Americans. He's a good friend of mind so I expect a good, clean match."
BTW, while I was otherwise occupied, another American woman struck an unexpected blow for the home team. Irina Falconi ushered out No. 14 seed Dominika Cibulkova on a match moved to Arthur Ashe stadium after Venus Williams' shocking withdrawal from the singles. After Falconi won, she paraded around the floor of Ashe with the Stars and Stripes. It was that kind of day.
10:24 PM—Appropriately enough, the last American singles player on the court today is Andy Roddick, and his supporting actor is yet another American, much-loved and respected 33-year-old journeyman Michael Russell. Using his authoratative, oppressive serve to full effect, Roddick won the first two sets. But Russell, a grizzled, leathery, indomitable veteran, just won't quit. He finds a way to win the third set, escapes a potentially disastrous break midway through the fourth set and finds a second (or third, or fourth?) wind.
But Russell falls behind 0-30 when serving at 4-5. He claws his way back to 40-30. Showing nerves, Roddick flubs a second-serve return and it's 5-all.
10:38 PM—It takes a Russell error for Roddick to finally close out the player John McEnroe aptly describes as a Jack Russell terrier. "God bless MIchael," McEnroe says as Russell walks off. "He always gives you your money's worth."
In the on-court interview, Roddick says: "Mike's one of my favorite players. He's all heart and hustle and he makes you win."
Of his next opponent, Roddick says: "He's full of piss and vinegar and he reminds me of another 18-year-old I knew way back when. . ."
Roddick's next match is against Jack Sock.
Somehow, it's a satisfying way to end a day on which, discounting matches between Americans and the unexpected withdrawal of Venus Williams, the U.S. finished a very respectable 5-3 in singles matches on this, the Longest (American) Day at the 2011 U.S. Open.
 Howdy, everyone. Forgive us for being a little late launching our Crisis Center posts, put it down to the disruptions caused by Hurricane Irene (it took me eight hours to get back from the country on Monday and I think I've finally caught up!). Anyway, henceforth you'll have a daily Crisis Center post where you can call matches and chit-chat about the tournament in general. Please keep your comments at the later, daily red-meat posts (such as yesterday's Young, Blonde, and Slamless) on topic. Today, I'll be keeping -- and updating -- a running diary/commentary on the U.S. players in action. There will be 23 of them battling to advance today. Enjoy the tennis!
-- Pete
by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—If the USTA had a better sense of humor—or a more ruthless sense of marketing—it might have taken full advantage of the referee's decision to put No. 4 Victoria Azarenka and No. 1 Caroline Wozniacki on Arthur Ashe Stadium in back-to-back matches to launch today's program.
You know, frame it as a game show, with slick three-minute teasers about each player's career. Instruct Alex Anthony, the Arthur Ashe PA announcer (who moonlights as the voice of baseball's New York Mets) to channel the voice of famed game-show host and cult figure Don Pardo (if you've been to Ashe lately, you know this would be a piece of cake for Anthony), to fire up the spectators.
I can hear him now: And by the time these two, short weeks are over, tennis fans, one of these very attractive and talented young ladies just might be lucky enough to walk out of Arthur Ashe Stadium with a grand prize of one million, eight-hundred thousand dollars—that's right, nearly two million dollars. . .Plus a brand new Mercedes-Benz. . .Plus a lifetime supply of Slim Jim beef jerky. . .Plus a lifetime, paid membership in that most elite of clubs, the Grand Slam winners club!
Alright, so I'm kidding about the Slim Jims.This isn't a Bassmasters tournament.
But still . . . you have to wonder when one of those long-suffering ladies—if the adjective "long" can be applied to anything having to do with Azarenka, who's 22, or 21-year-old Wozniacki—will finally punch through to bag a Grand Slam title. These two may be young, but as Boris Becker once said, you measure a tennis player's life in "dog years," and each of these women has been very close to leaping the Grand Slam hurdle. Wozniacki even more so than Azarenka; she was close enough to the trophy here in 2009 when she lost to Kim Clijsters in the final to floss her teeth or fix her stray hairs in the reflection off it.
Azarenka the Voluble was first on Ashe, and she'd didn't allow the endless rows of empty, bright blue seats to dampen her enthusiasm. She was all over Sweden's poor Johanna Larsson right from get-go, like some great bird of prey with a dazzling golden crest, pecking and tearing at her opponent, punctuating each attack with that piercing, familiar shriek, Ah-heeee! The sound echoed and bounced around the nearly empty stadium; perhaps it even kept some fans from venturing inside.
"You wanna go into Ashe?"
"Dude, that thing in there might kill and eat us."
It was over quickly, 6-1,6-3.
Azarenka was her usual chipper self in the press interview room afterwards. Clearly, that decision early this year to embrace the "Don't Worry, Be Happy" ethos has paid off. She's had a great year, losing to the champion at two of the three previous majors (Li Na at Roland Garros and Petra Kvitova at Wimbledon), and to eventual finalist Li at the start of the Grand Slam year in Australia. Very few women in tennis history have played as well as Azarenka through three majors and come away without even a final berth for it. You could call her snake-bit, although she's determined not to drink of the bitter brew: "I mean, why complain," she said, "I lost to the champion (at those events). I played good. I played a little bit bad sometimes, but what can you do? I lost to the best player in the tournament. It's fine. I have to be better."
And while I took no great pleasure in it, I had to point out that to continue her run of hard-luck Grand Slam draws, she's been elected to meet the No. 28 seed in the fourth round. That's as it should be. Only the No. 28 seed happens to be Serena Williams. "I'm not interested about that before I go out there," she said, rather snippily. " We'll talk about it later .. . maybe."
She forced a smile.
Well, there truly is a long way to go before that conversation can take place. And while it's not much consolation, the young lady who keeps Azarenka firmly anchored near—but not at—the top of the "Best Active Player Not to Have Won a Major" list potentially has a tricky if not nearly as formidable hurdle to clear in the fourth round—Daniela Hantuchova, who beat Wozniacki in the third round of this year's French Open.
We didn't know it then, but Wozniacki was on the brink of the first significant swoon she's experienced since she assumed the No. 1 ranking 46 weeks ago. Pooh-pooh the Slamless One all you like, but the naked truth is that Wozniacki is projected to remain No. 1 through the end of the U.S. Open, which means she's a lock to have been No. 1 for more total weeks than Venus Williams, Maria Sharapova, and Kim Clijsters—combined.
You can look it up.
The atmosphere was slightly improved in Ashe after Azarenka's recital, but the crowd was still just drifting in as Wozniacki jumped to an early lead over Nuria Llagostera Vives—a 31-year old whose professed career ambitions included playing in the U.S. Open women's singles draw at least once before she throws in the towel. She got her wish this year, and after the drubbing she took she may re-phrase the wish to "only once."
 Wozniacki knew that her height advantage of nine inches (Vives is 5-foot-1) was a formidable one, and she determined to make the most of it. "Well, I usually play the way I need to to win a match," she said, almost like it was a bad thing, or at least an ignoble attitude. "You know, she's not a very tall player, so I tried to open up the court a little bit more and then tried to take advantage of the short balls that I got."
That Caro, she didn't just fall off the turnip truck. But it's surprising how many of of her WTA peers play as if they did, which helps account for Wozniacki's success. At her best, like she was today, Wozniacki looks impregnable—like some great white fortress towering over the landscape. She's tall, strong, and surprisingly nimble for a smoothly-muscled and thickly-built girl. She has no conspicuous weakness, and her serve is greatly improved. Everyone talks about her defense, but it isn't defensive skill that gives her an edge—it's her ability to keep the ball in play and gradually work herself into position to put her opponent on a string. And that's a very different and considerably higher skill than merely chasing down and returning balls, which are good for winning points and maybe even a few games, but not matches.
When she was apprised that one of the television commentators suggested that that the only think that's kept Wozniacki from winning a major is the lack of a "weapon," she bristled and fired back: "They can say what they want. I'm the type of player I am. I've won a lot of tournaments. I'm No. 1 in the world. . .You know, I'm on the right track. I just go out there and I play the way I do, and hopefully that's good enough."
Granted, Vives' skill set and overall profile played right into Wozniacki's hands, but it was still a pleasure to watch Wozniacki move the ball around, hitting clean, elegant shots, opening the court shot-by-shot with a shining and satisfying indication of actual purpose. If that's "defensive," you could bottle it and make a lot of money selling it out of the trunk of your car out in the player transport area. And Wozniacki's willingness to attack and end points at the net made me wonder if she was now making an effort to create volleying opportunities, or merely taking advantage of them when they came her way. About that she said, "I went in today. It was important for me to serve well, and I thought I started quite a few good points with my serve."
Consider that evasive. Nobody likes to show his or her hand until the bets are in and someone calls.
One thing is certain. Wozniacki seems to have gotten over the hiccup she experienced this summer, when she lost back-to-back opening-round matches in Toronto and Cincinnati. She got her groove back at the tournament where her ascent began four years ago, and where she's 18-0 with four titles: New Haven. If you think there's no down-side to that, think again: "I'm 21 years old and I already feel like I'm a senior on tour," Wozniacki said, trying mightily to complain.
Wozniacki and Azarenka are said to be great friends, and they're certainly an intriguing brace of players still searching for a Slam. In case you're wondering, Wozniacki leads their career rivalry 4-2 (and has won their last three meeting, the most recent after Azarenka retired just three games at Indian Wells). Among other things, the record suggests that Wozniacki's consistency and mature, strategic game is enough to trump Azarenka's all-offense-all-the-time mindset.
If they both continue to win, and they appear to be playing well enough to do so, they would meet in the semifinals. But that's alright, because only one of them has a chance to leave here with her first Grand Slam title, anyway. But this is still one of my favorite races within the race. I really wanted to ask about this parallel quest for a Grand Slam, but couldn't think of a diplomatic way to phrase it in order to get some kind of publishable response. So I took a bullet and asked Azarenka whom she thought would be the first to win a major.
"That's a little bit silly question to ask me," she replied, quite understandably. "Of course I want me to be there first. . . (but) you cannot look too far ahead and jump ahead, because there is no final before the second round or third round."
Azarenka's game is as dismissive and curt in the press room as it is on the court, and I should have known better than to go fishing with that one.
 by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—Back then, she wore a white bowling shirt over a gray skirt, and featured beads of red, white and blue in her hair. Tonight, she wore an interpretation—her own, she said—of the storied "little black cocktail dress," with a silvery lace panel in the back and pink-trimmed zipper that resembled a lady-like racing stripe running down the middle of her back.
Back then, she was barely 17 and coltish, arms akimbo, legs flying and beads rattling with every swipe she took. Tonight, at 31, she was rangy and swift and lithe, sinewy and powerful as a leopard, her will and game radiating equal measures of the purpose suggested by her tightly pinned and braided hair and business-like black visor.
One thing, though, was the same back then in 1997 when Venus Williams played her first U.S. Open and tonight, when she embarked on her 14th major in New York. She was unseeded then (and ranked a lowly No. 66), and she's unseeeded—for the first time since '97—now. Judging from the way she played tonight against Russia's Vesna Dolonts, it would be just as dangerous to predict her early demise this year as it was back in '97, when Venus slashed her way to the final before she was stopped by top seed Martina Hingis.
One other critical difference between then and now is that after Williams lost to Magdalena Grzybowska in the first round at Wimbledon in '97, she played San Diego, Los Angeles and Toronto, practicing for the U.S. Open. This year Venus lost in the fourth round of Wimbledon to Tsvetana Pironkova and hasn't swung the stick since. She wiped out her entire summer schedule with one sweep of the eraser because of a viral illness that she declined to identify with any specificity in the press room after her overpowering 6-4, 6-3 win.
All Venus would say is that it was ". . .energy-sucking and I just couldn't play pro tennis. It was disappointing, because I had huge plans for this summer, of course, to improve my ranking. To miss out on all those points was definitely devastating. Just to miss so much time off tour was just disheartening."
For someone who professed to miss playing the game, she sure seemed in a hurry to leave the court tonight. We've come to accept the ability to come in cold and smoke the competition as some sort of genetic inheritance in the Williams family; Venus' sister Serena is already legendary for parachuting in and snatching titles out from under the noses of all those straight-laced, spear carrriers on the WTA. In fact, you have to wonder if it's not to the point where doing all that due diligence at warm-up and routine rankings-boosting events might not actually harm Serena's game or quake-inducing image.
Venus has been less talented at being simultaneously less present and more of a presence. She's played just three tournaments this year (not including this one), which is ridiculous even by a Williams sister's standard. She's ranked No. 36, and hasn't played anyone in the Top 10 in 2011. She said last night that she's so eager to play that if this didn't happen to be the fortnight of the U.S. Open, she'd be off getting a game. . . wherever." At this point, I'd be at a 50,000 dollar Challenger near where I live. I'd be at any tournament that I could play. I just want to play tennis. It doesn't matter what the tournament is, I just want to play. Obviously, the Open is huge, but I just want to play."
Do you get the idea that Venus wants to play?
One of Venus's most glaring shortcomings in recent years has been an inconsistency that suggests that her game has been brought down a notch or two for lack of maintenance. She's been capable of racing through opponents like a silver bullet train, but also prone to run off the rails, spewing errors like smoke from the stack of a steam locomotive. The big questions before tonight's match was whether she would be rusty, stroke-wise (especially on the forehand side, where she's always had both more firepower and less control), or timid due to lack of match play (her record for the year: a 7-3).
Venus caught a break when Dolonts was unable to arrive in New York from Moscow until just hours before the match; she had screwed up a visa application and had to withdraw from New Haven, and when she finally got sorted out her new flight to New York was canceled because of Hurricane Irene. But sometimes, the very hopelessness of a situation inspires a player to swing away and play more freely and effectively than if she had been sitting in a hotel room for three days fingering a rosary and hyperventilating at the very mention of the name, Williams.
Dolonts started well, breaking Venus for 3-2. But Venus broke right back. The games went on serve then until 4-all, the point at which you might have expected Venus to get a little tentative or succumb to jitters owing to a lack of match play—more precisely, a lack of familiarity with the anxiety and tension that influences a match, which can't be duplicated in practice, regardless of the partner or intensity of effort.
Venus had a few tremulous moments, and even delivered a critical double-fault late in the set to fall behind 30-40. But she dispatched the break point with a service winner, followed with an ace, and won the game with another service winner. So much for the jitters. It was a confident statement that may probably rattled Dolonts, who fell behind 15-40 in the next game and was broken at 30 when Venus attacked behind a forehand and smacked away a forehand volley to win the set. It wasn't the first—or last—such demonstration on the night. "Oh, I'm not really a serve and volleyer," she said, correcting the suggestion of a reporter, "But I'm an aggressive player and I do enjoy moving forward. If I can get the opportunity to do so, I do try to."
That Venus was able to play such positive, consistent aggressive tennis throughout an entire match is an excellent omen, because she wasn't sure exactly where desire and reasonable expectations intersected. "I didn't really know what to expect. I was just going to try very hard. I'm not sure I expected to be so sharp. In some ways I expected to be sharper because I know I can play tennis. It's in general. . . just a really high expectation of myself."
How much more can she—or we—expect? Quite a bit in the short term, judging from how crisply and cleanly she played in her first match, unless that dreaded inconsistency comes into play again. And quite a bit in the long term as well. Venus says she and Serena have already discussed their plans for a future in which tennis will continue to loom large:
"Oh, I would be so upset if she (Serena) retired. She could never do that to me. We have to go out together. But we've decided we're not going to lead a traditional career. We haven't to this point, so we won't. So we're going to play past the limit that anyone has ever played, and when our singles game goes, we'll continue to dominate in doubles, hopefully bring home more majors in that. So we've decided to just enjoy tennis. It's such an honor. We'll do it as long as we can. Right now the end is not really in sight."
Actually, if anything is in sight for Venus right now, it's the beginning: "You know, I just need a chance to play. So the season hasn't really even started yet for me. It's been like a blip here and a blip there. Sort of nice to get some momentum for the rest of the year, whatever I have left."
Consider her season started.
by Jackie Roe, TW Social Director
Hi, everyone! I’m keeping it simple this week, since we’ve all got the Open on the brain . . .
First up, your official invite to our USO TW gathering:
When: Sunday, 9/4. Let's set the start time as 9 PM, but night session ticket holders, feel free to come later in the evening.
Where: Dublin House. Address: 225 W. 79th St., between Amsterdam and Broadway. (Same place as last year.) They don't serve food but there are plenty of restaurants nearby, and you can have food delivered or even bring your own. Don't worry about missing the tennis as they have flat-screen TVs. Click here for more info.
Please RSVP in the comments, via e-mail here, or by sending me a note on Facebook, as I need to reserve space for our group. (If we’ve already been in touch, I’ve got your name down.) And if you could pass the word along to other USO-bound TWibers who may not catch this invite, that'd be great. Thanks, everyone. Pete and I both plan to be there, and we’re looking forward to seeing you!
Next, here’s Mariya with your USO Suicide Pool info:
The time is here for you to show your survival skills in the US Open '11 Suicide Pool at TalkAboutTennis.com. If you've played it before, you know what to do. Click here to play. You should find the thread for the first day (after the OOP is announced) at that link. The deadline to enter is the scheduled start of play on Monday, August 29th.
If you don't know how to play the Suicide Pool, read on or click here:
The basic idea of the Suicide Pool 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/her match. If he/she wins, 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: you can only pick a player once for the entire tournament (so, for instance, you might want to save Nadal for a later round).
There are separate games for the ATP and WTA singles draws and you can play one or both of them:
There will be a fresh thread open every day of the tournament, for both the ATP and WTA. You'll also see a thread which tracks updated results once the tournament begins.
Additional rules:
You have to be a registered member of TAT, which you can easily become by registering here for free.
We will be keeping track of the fortunes of the TWibe. If you want your name to be tracked, please indicate this with the text "TW" in your first day's (and ONLY your first day's) pick. Only include your TW name if it’s different from your username on TAT. Check out the example below:
***********************
Thomaz Bellucci
ptenisnet
TW
***********************
We will be offering prizes to the men's and women's winners, courtesy of New Chapter Press. Good luck!
Good luck to all participants!
That’s all for now. Use this space however you please, and have a nice weekend, everyone!
 by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—It didn't exactly feel like an omen for the qualifying tournament of the U.S. Open, but when fishing nut Frank Dancevic caught a couple of 10 lb. walleye in Lake Erie just a weeks ago (trolling a harnessed worm rig, if you must know) he certainly felt that luck was turning his way. And that's a luxury Dancevic hasn't always enjoyed lately.
In 2009, the 26-year-old native of Niagara Falls, Ontario, was playing some of the best tennis of his life—he made the final of Eastbourne, beating Igor Andreev and and Fabrice Santoro, among others—and had cracked the ATP Top 100 (his career-high ranking is No. 65) only to blow a disk in his back during his first-round loss at Wimbledon to Steve Darcis. He played on, but after making the semis at Indianapolis, the pain became too much to bear; he slumped badly and by the fall he was stretched out in hospital, undergoing back surgery.
It's been a long road back. It always is.
"I lost 15 kilos of muscle, and was out for a solid year," Dancevic told me today, after he qualified for the main draw at the U.S. Open with a three-set win over promising U.S. youth, Bradley Klahn. "I lost everything—my court sense, my feeling for competition, the rhythm of playing matches. My comeback started on the grass in 2010, and since then I've been trying to regain my composure, get my points back (he returned to the tour with a ranking of No. 167). I was trying to get back my identity. And it was tough."
Trying to regain his identity. It was an interesting, revealing way to put it. Any player who has walked a mile in Dancevic's tennis shoes probably knows exactly what he means. And for a spell yesterday, it seemed that Dancevic might leave Queens ahead of hurricane Irene but asking himself, "Who am I, really? Just another walleye fisherman?"
Dancevic lost the first set to Klahn, for reasons that help illustrate why qualifying tournaments are so tricky to navigate, and why former U.S. Davis Cup captain and head of USTA player development Patrick McEnroe believes that the toughest of all matches for the typical pro is the last, critical round of qualifying. You may know very little about who you're playing, and if you fall short in the last round of qualifying you walk away with nothing to show for your effort. Zilch. Zippo. Squanto.
"Sure it's tough," Dancevic said of McEnroe's assessment. "I'd rather get a ticket into main draw. But this is the reality. I'm not No. 65 now. I'm No. 180. I have to prove myself, all over. I wasn't sure about this guy's game at all. He's kind of new on the tour. I did know that he's a lefty, but I was surprised that he was such a crafty player, pretty fast around the court, with a quick forehand. I knew pretty quickly that he was going to be trouble."
Klahn won the first set, and then appeared to make a the typical if unavoidable rookie mistake; he relaxed—and in the blink of an eye Dancevic was all over him and the second set was over, 6-1. Klahn rallied, trading holds until Dancevic broke him for a 3-2 lead in the third. Dancevic went on to win it, 6-3 in the third.
I've always enjoyed Dancevic's game. He's got a big serve and isn't timid about following it to the net. He has a solid forehand and a really smooth one-handed backhand (he's a little bit Tommy Haas, a little bit Roger Federer). Dancevic's timing and touch are superb, particuarly on the backhand side. He'll often meet the ball at exactly the same speed at which it's traveling, or slower, basically sending it back with so little spin that you can read the black lettering on the yellow nap. That's not the way the game is played by most guys these days, which makes it even more of a treat to watch.
It occured to me during the match to describe Dancevic as a poor man's Federer. That may seem like damnation by faint praise, or perhaps even an insult. Then again, 99.9 percent of the tennis players in the world should only be lucky enough to be described as a poor man's Frank Dancevic. I asked if he'd feel insulted being described that way. He grinned: "I guess I would take any part of Roger Federer, even if it's one percent. I'd take it as a compliment."
Dancevic has had a tough time trying to reclaim his place as a direct-entry player on the tour. He qualified for the Australian Open but lost to a tough first-round opponent in Richard Gasquet. He qualifed for Roland Garros, but lost to Simone Bolelli. He qualified for Wimbledon, but lost a five-set heartbreaker to No. 89 Ricardo Mello. "It's hard to start fresh," he said. "All I had when I started back out was my experience, but at least that gave me an idea of what I need to be doing, what worked for me in the past. I just have to connect with it."
It would be a good time for Dancevic to make that connection, given that Canada is suddenly producing some good tennis players. The prospect of playing Davis Cup alongside Milos Raonic, one of the most exciting players to emerge in a few years, is tantalizing—and very welcome—for a Davis Cup stalwart like Dancevic. Raonic, Rebecca Marino (on the WTA side), Stephanie Dubois (seeded No. 3 in the women's qualifying draw), veteran doubles standout Daniel Nestor and a handful of other players have created a serious buzz about tennis in maple leaf country.
"Milos has made a huge boom in Canadian tennis," Dancevic said. "He's been a real motivational factor for all of us, and the idea that we're putting out some good players is just awesome. We haven't had that in a while."
Dancevic hopes to stick around long enough to enjoy the party, should the Canadians continue to boost their standing in world tennis. At 26, he's a veteran, but he still has some good years left. Although it was lonely for him at times, he's played a small part in keeping Canadian tennis on the radar. Perhaps in some small way he's been an inspiration, so it would only be just for him to reap some of the rewards. Thanks to his performance here today, he'll have the chance to advance the narrative for Canada—as well as for Dancevic. As much as he likes to fish, he'd rather be here trolling for Ws next week than at home, trolling for walleyes.
 by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—The rain may have stopped the qualifying tournament this morning, and the pending hurricane may wreak havoc with the main event come Monday, but they make the draw indoors and this morning the U.S. Open brackets were filled in, with names missing only from the slots reserved for qualifiers.
The big question coming in, of course, was where Serena Williams (the best female player on the planet but a lowly No. 28 seed) would wind up. Those of you who habitually rue the way Roger Federer ends up on the same half of the draw as Novak Djokovic (I believe the two were slotted for a semifinal meeting 13 times in the last 15 majors) will feel a pang of empathy with and sympathy for Victoria Azarenka, the No. 4 seed who is destined on form to meet Serena in the third round.
It's not that Azarenka has always come opposite Williams, although the two did meet recently in Toronto (Serena won in straights) and on five other occasions (Serena leads the head-to-head, 5-1). It's just that in two of the three previous majors, Azarenka has lost to the eventual champ (Li Na at the French Open and Petra Kvitova at Wimbledon). Azarenka also lost to Li in the round of 16 at the Australian Open. And let's face it, the No. 28 seed is the odds-on favorite to win this final major of 2011.
Incidentally, Rafael Nadal was on hand to draw the numbered chips out of the proverbial hat when it came time to fill in the brackets. He performed admirably, although the job admittedly isn't that complicated. I was amused to see that instead of merely handing the chip to Gayle Bradshaw, so he could match the number to the name on his seeding list and call out the player's name, Rafa quite unncessarily took it upon himself to call out the number each time he pulled a chip.
Whatever else you want to say about Nadal, this little detail suggests that he's got a real team player's instinct. And if agrees to do a job, he'll do it the right way. It's in such little moments that you often get glimpses into a person's basic character.
On the men's side, the trend continues: Federer has now fallen on Djokovic's side of a Grand Slam draw a remarkable 14 of 16 times, and while that's just chance (conspiracy theorists nonwithstanding), I feel it underscores a complaint I've often made, even if addressing it wouldn't have changed the present scenario. If the point of having seeds is to keep the best players from meeting too soon in a tournament, why not go all the way and place at least the top 16 seeds in a way that guarantees that 1 would first meet 16, 2 meet 15, etc. etc. etc.?
In other words, place the seeds so that No. 1 potentially meets No. 4 in one semi, and No. 2 meets No. 3 in the other. Anyway. . . Let's have a little fun and post some quick reactions to the brackets—Steve Tignor will be posting a more conventional analysis of the draws later on.
No. 1 Novak's Quarter, Nutshell Version: It's a cakewalk to the semis for Novak Djokovic: Monfils (seeded No. 7) and Gasquet (No. 13) are gimmes, Tipsarevic (No. 20) is his wingman, and No. 9 Tomas Berdych is a head case. What, you think Fabio Fognini is going to take out the Djoker?
The most dangerous guy for Djokovic may be No. 22 Alexandr Dolgopolov, who can hit stone-cold winners from all over the place and is on a track that puts him up against the No. 1 player in the fourth round. Case closed, see you in the semis, Novak!
No. 1 Caro's Quarter, Nutshell Version: The Gods are good at throwing scraps to the undeserving, which is one reason Daniela Hantuchova might put Caroline Wozniacki out of another major (Hantuchova ousted Wozniacki in the third round at the French Open). This time, they're slated to meet in the fourth round of the U.S. Open. But will either of them survive to that stage?
The errratic, streaky Hantuchova is an ideal spoiler, capable of beating anyone but proven, quality players. Wozniacki is a quality player, or I've always thought she is, but she isn't proven—and that's where her recent poor play and an attendant loss of confidence may be a factor.
Wozniacki may recover from her recent blues to win the title (her history here has been excellent, and that counts for a lot), thereby adding a satisfying element of surprise to the narrative she created as the Slamless No. 1, but it would be foolish to count on that happening. And Hantuchova, Andrea Petkovic (No. 10) and Li Na (No. 6) all are capable of stopping Wozniacki short of the semis.
Trickiest First-Rounder for a Top 8 Player: Two of the Top 8 (Djokovic and No. 6 Robin Soderling) have drawn qualifiers as their first opponents, and among the others, only two men have matches with upset potential: No. 5 David Ferrer vs. Igor Andreev and No. 6 Monfils vs. Grigor Dimitrov.
Given that Andreev has played awfully this summer and that Ferrer is a consumate professional, the most endangered seed is Monfils. Everyone keeps saying that Dimitrov is going to break out one of these days, and this presents him with a perfect opportunity.
On the WTA side, three of the top eight seeds (No. 1 Vera Zvonareva, No. 8 Marion Bartoli and No. 7 Francesca Schiavone) meet qualifers. Among the others, the toughest assignment may belong to No. 6 Li Na, who's been in an extended swoon (4-4) since she won the French Open—much like Li was after she made this year's Australian Open final. Li plays Simona Halep of Romania, who is coming off a great week in Toronto (she qualified and beat Svetlana Kuznetsova in the first round before bowing to Lucie Safarova).
And also this: No. 5 Petra Kvitova is apt to be nervous as well when she meets 49th-ranked Alexandra Dulgheru of Romania. Winning your first major, as Kvitova did at Wimbledon this year, can throw you for a bit of a loop. She's probably still distracted and walking on clouds. Since Wimbledon, Kvitova has played just two events splitting four matches. She got just nine games from Andrea Petkovic in those two losses. Consider her endangered.
 Most Promising First-Round Match: 19-year-old Ryan Harrison plays No. 27 Marin Cilic of Croatia. It's a tough assignment for young Harrison, but Cilic has been up-and-down at Grand Slam events and Harrison has been pulsing on the cusp of a breakout for about a year now. And who can forget that terrible blown opportunity here last year, when Harrison qualified, upset seeded Ivan Ljubicic, and then had match points before losing to Sergiy Stakhovsky?
Among the women, I see a lot of enterainment value in the battle between No. 28 Serena Williams and Bojana Jovanovski, a promising young Serbian player. You know, those Serbs are a pretty confident, aggressive lot as a whole, and they're obviously in a giddy ascent. It may be expecting too much for Jovanovski to upend Serena, but hey—as Justine Henin once said, Impossible is nothing. . . And Jovanovski, just 19, is a coming talent.
Of course, any match that involves the drama queen of tennis is bound to be entertaining, so if you think it's unfair to choose a match featuring Serena Williams, my No. 2 pick is the confrontation bettween Sorana Cristea of Romania and No. 20 Yanina Wickmayer.
Biggest Surprise: Andy Roddick is seeded No. 21. I know he's been playing badly these days, but . . . twenty-one??????
I feel for Roddick, but the computer doesn't lie. And if there's any consolation for him in this situation, it's that he's pretty well assured of being under-the-radar. Roddick has a pretty good draw—he opens against fellow American Michael Russell and could play another countryman (Jack Sock) in the second round. Hail, he might even get Ryan Sweeting in the third round and then have to grapple for a place in the quarters with. . . James Blake. Keep dreaming, Pete. Those days are long gone.
The shocker on the WTA side is that No. 28 Serena Williams was not drawn to play her unseeded sister Venus in the first round (Venus will meet Vesna Dolonts of Russia).
Remind Me to Skip This One: Fernando Verdasco (No. 19) v. Jarkko Nieminen. "Hott Sauce" has cooled of considerably, and is now about as piquant as mayonnaise. And Nieminen's game is actually irritating to watch.
I also have no interest whatsoever in the Kateryna Bondarenko vs. Lucie Hradecka confrontation. As far as I'm concerned, one Bondarenko is more than enough for the tour, although I must say I'd be mildly interested if we had a doubles final with Alona and Kateryna playing against Agnieszka and Urszula Radwanska.
Or I would be, if I didn't have a life. That's all for now—see you all tomorrow!
By Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—This year, Marsel Ilhan learned what almost all pros eventually discover: the better you get at tennis, the harder it is to get better.
It sounds like a contradiction in terms, but the higher up you go in the food chain, the more difficult it is to come up with tweaks of strategy, technique, or fitness that enable you to rise further. It's partly because the more successful players tend to be more diligent and responsible; they all turn over every stone in the search for an edge, and have fewer weaknesses to exploit.
Most of you remember that Ilhan became a big story here two years ago, as the first player from Turkey (although he's a native Uzbek) to win a round in a Grand Slam event. He was ranked No. 231 at the time, so the result was a breakout performance (he had three wins in the qualifying and one in the main draw over Christophe Rochus, 7-5 in-the-fifth). Tennis journalists were not the only ones to notice—good-egg Roger Federer made a point to seek out Ilhan in the locker room to congratulate him and offer advice. Buoyed by his success that year, Ilhan declared that his career intention was to be ranked within the ATP Top 100 for a decade.
Ilhan finished 2009 about 50 ranking spots below his goal, but flush with motivation, he achieved it in 2010, finishing at No. 90, winning a Challenger title and a main-draw match at two majors, the Australian Open and Wimbledon. Then came the inevitable reality check. With a lot to defend and his Turkish countrymen expecting much of him, Ilhan started this year 0-9.
That partly explains why Ilhan wasn't able to make up enough lost ground to get direct acceptance into the U.S. Open main draaw. Although he's presently ranked No. 100, he was outside the cutoff when the entries closed. Thus, he was out on Court 4 today, in the first round of qualifying.
Incidentally, it was another gorgeous, clear and dry day here at Flushing Meadows, and it finally looks like the public has caught on to what has to be the best deal in town—free entry to the National Tennis Center for the qualifying tournament. Chris Widmaier, the USTA's director of public relations, told me that the attendance was 7,000 and change yesterday—today, it had to be double that number, plus.
Still, few of those spectators took notice of Ilhan's match with Poland's Marcin Gawron. At first glance, it looked almost as if Ilhan was playing his doppelganger; both men are hirsute, of slender build and nicely proportioned features, and to add to the confusion they were wearing similar attire—black shorts and predominantly white shirts. But Ilhan's superiority was evident form the get-go, even before Gawron started double-faulting his way out of contention.
Ilhan won the first set handily, 6-2, and scored an early break to go up 2-0 in the second. Serving in the third game, Ilhan played a little too loosely and fell behind 30-40. I jotted: "This is just the kind of lapse that a Top 20 player would exploit to get the break back and maybe turn things around..." But Gawron is far from a Top 20 player, except perhaps in his hometown of Nowy Sacz. Ilhan recovered to hold.
Ilhan's coach, Can Uner, is the original pioneer of Turkish tennis. Born and raised in Istanbul, Uner's father encouraged him to pursue tennis and his son later ended up distinguishing himself at Jefferson State Community College and then the University of North Alabama (go Lions!).
According to Uner, Ilhan's struggles early this year were partly caused by his attempt to incorporate some new, mostly strategic elements into his game. These include a greater willingness to attack the net—something Ilhan did with some frequency against Gawron. It helped Ilhan close out the former junior Wimbledon finalist, 6-2, 6-0.
Later, I asked Ilhan if he felt inspired, returning to the scene of his breakout. "This is a special tournament for me," he said in halting English, "And I like the conditions here. Maybe I can show good results, if not this year then next year."
Ilhan is thinking 12 months ahead because he's still processing the lessons he learned early this year, during that 0-9 start. As Uner said, "It's harder for everyone to get better when they get closer to the best players. And it's especially true for Marsel because he didn't have a junior career that could take him through some of these stages. If he'd had the opportunity we could have dealt with some of these stages earlier, but it's still a learning process for him. Day by day. Match by match."
Of his early-season losing streak, Ilhan says: "Yeah, I felt a little bit the pressure. Everybody in Turkey supports me now, and everybody say I must stay in the Top 100. Also I play second round in Grand Slams already and that makes some pressure."
But it wasn't like Ilhan was taking it on the chin form one palooka after another back in January. He lost in Chennai to the resurgent Xavier Malisse, and at the Australian Open he had a tough first-round opponent in Mikhail Youzhny. For every Lukas Rosol (Dubai) there seemed to be a Milos Raonic (Indian Wells). Having gotten off on the wrong foot, Ilhan lost confidence. "I looked to myself and I didn't understand what happened," Ilhan told me. "But I took lessons from those matches."
"Sure he felt a little bit the pressure," Uner said. "But at the same time was trying to make some changes and that made things a little more difficult. So he feel back a little bit. But we're working hard, at every part of the game and using every tool. Marsel is becoming a better all-around player."
It wasn't too long ago that a player from a remote nation with little tennis history was all alone on the tour, prey to loneliness and, worse yet, unable to avail himself of the resources open to successful players from nations with a stronger tennis history or infrastructure. But resources like video and the Internet have been invaluable in bringing even the most off-the-radar players—and newborn tennis fans—up to speed. Thus, Uner and Ilhan have been able to quick-start a tennis culture in Turkey.
"Ilhan is famous in turkey," Uner told me, when I asked about it. "Everything he does is in the news. He's probably one of the three most well-known athletes in the country."
More important, Ilhan has no financial worries—something that can't be said for, say, a Canadian or German player struggling to make his way on the Challenger and qualifier circuit. According to Uner, Ilhan has a five-year deal with Turkcell, the leading Turkish GSM company. And the suddenly active Turkish tennis federation, as well as the government, has worked hand-in-hand with Ilhan and Uner, providing them with great material support.
Now that he's back in the Top 100, Ilhan is feeling optimistic. In fact, he's modified his original career goal, and now says he believes that he has the makings of a Top 50 player, and feels confident that he'll crack that elite group sometime in the next five to seven years. Sometimes, though, Ilhan's good fortune still amazes him. In Montreal a few weeks ago, Federer contacted him and arranged for a practice session. Ilhan was thrilled, much like he had been back in 2009, when Federer sought him out in the locker room here in Arthur Ashe stadium.
"It is still sometimes hard to believe. Three years ago, I was just watching Federer on the TV," Ilhan said. "Now I am playing in all the same tournaments."
by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—It was 11:32, just thirty-two minutes into the 2011 U.S. Open and about an hour before an earthquake set the blue struts that support the massive, concrete upper deck of Arthur Ashe stadium swaying, as if it were all part of some grotesque opening ceremony. From halfway up the aluminum bleachers beside Court 7, tennis coach Carlos Maldonado looked down at Gail Brodsky, the 20-year-old whom he'd supported and helped for a number of years now.
Brodsky, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and attired in a flattering, black-and-purple top over a white dress trimmed with lace, looked the part of a glamorous, tanned tennis pro. But now and then, she flashed Maldonado a smoldering, covert glance. A look which he received stoically, as if he understood and suffered along with her.
Brodsky was on the wrong end of a savage beatdown, trailing Canada's Stephanie Dubois, the No. 3 seed in the women's qualifying tournament, 6-0, 1-0. Maldanado was thinking that this wasn't the girl he knew, the aggressive baseliner with the atomic forehand, powerful backhand, and smooth service motion. "The person I saw wasn't Gail," he would tell me later. "The person I saw was someone very tentative and nervous."
Tentative, nervous, and helpless—and on track to earn the painful distinction of being the first player to lose at this year's U.S. Open.
You do realize that the tournament is underway, don't you? Someone who played at Flushing Meadows today could, but probably won't, win the tournament. This, though, is certain: Nobody who isn't in the qualifying draw or automatically entered in the main draw (which will be determined on Thursday) is going to hoist either of those singles trophies come the weekend of September 11th.
It seems an impossibly long way off, doesn't it? And it willl seem even more remote to those fine tennis players who lose in the qualilfying event—players like, to name a few familiars, Arnaud Clement, Jesse Witten, Amer Delic, Urszula Radwanska and Frank Dancevic. Put yourselves in their shoes, in Brodsky's neat, spotless white tennis shoes, for a moment.
It's 11:40, she's trailing 6-0, 4-0. Dubois is playing like a woman possessed, smacking winners left and right, and Brodsky has lost her game as completely as if it were a set of car keys dropped over the side of a bridge. Should Brodsky lose, she will be out of the tournament before it properly begins, and more entitled to feel cheated or depressed than someone who never even had a chance to play.
Brodsky's dilemma was particularly poignant because it wasn't so long ago—August 2008, to be exact—that she was an "it" girl at the U.S. Open. As the headline in New York's tabloid Daily News put it, Coney Island Teen Gail Brodsky Courts Success at the U.S. Open. . .
In this self-infatuated city, Brodsky was a tailor-made story (you can read Tom Perrotta's excellent backgrounder here). Her parents were immigrants from the Ukraine who settled in Brooklyn—her father, Eduard Brodsky, claimed that he arrived in the U.S. with just $100 in his pocket. Eduard, who had no knowledge of tennis going in, developed Gail's game on the hard courts of the public parks, and told stories of how other rec players cursed him, and once even called the police. "They were very upset that I brought more than three balls on the court," he told the Daily News. And there she was, a wild card into the main draw of the U.S. Open at the tender age of 17.
Things didn't go exactly as hoped, though. Brodsky lost her main-draw U.S. Open debut to Agnes Szavay. Although Brodsky improved in the ensuing months, it wasn't quickly enough, or so dramatically that she made a quantum leap. At the end of 2008, she was ranked in the mid-400s. She slipped 100 places by the end of 2009, but rebounded and got another wild card into the U.S. Open main draw in 2010. She lost in the first round again, this time to Anabel Medina Garrigues.
But Brodsky persevered, and improved. By this summer, her ranking was up to No. 236—good enough to get her into the qualifying for this year's tournament on merit. "I was proud that I got into qualifying without having to get a wild card for the first time in my career," she told me.
At 11:50 and 34 seconds, Brodsky's U.S. Open was over—fifty-some-odd minutes after the event started. She was the first person to lose in qualifying, by the nightmarish score of 6-0, 6-0.
When the final score was called, Brodsky jogged up to the net and the two girls pecked each other on both cheeks. They're friends. The beating one inflicted on the other wasn't going to change that, not for Brodsky anyway: "I wish her all the best, she's a very pleasant person. Obviously I did my best. I hope she goes on to win the tournament."
It was a classy attitude, all things considered. I then asked her, "What happened out there?"
"The whole atmosphere made me more nervous than I wanted to be," she said, "and Stephanie is a really good player. I didn't play the match I wanted. I tried not to be nervous before the match, and I wasn't. But I made up for it during the match. I didn't have those pre-match jitters, but once it started I was shaking."
Things have changed for the Coney Island kid since that summer of 2008. If her parents, who had been dog groomers—they once trimmed Jay Berger's Wheaton terrier down on Key Biscayne, absurd as that sounds—were at the match today, they were well concealed. The situation is complicated, or maybe not—whatever the case, Brodsky doesn't like to talk about it. She lives in her own apartment in Philadelphia now and makes her own decisions; she gets help from Maldonado but has no coach, although she may begin working with the USTA Player Development staff.
In her quest to improve, Brodsky has traveled so widely that she seems to have developed a Canadian accent (her inflection is such that you expect her to end each sentence with a rising "eh?"), and freely sprinkles her conversation with Australian slang. Last week, Brodsky played in the U.S. Open Wild Card playoffs in College Park, Md. She lost a very close semifinal to Madison Keys, whereupon she hopped on the Amtrak and arrived in New York two nights ago, on Sunday. She was in the qualifying on merit, which is a genuine honor. And now she will have to experience the U.S. Open the same way a fan does; from the sofa.
"I'm not sure what I'll do," Brodsky said. "I may hang around for a few days."
I asked Maldonado if he was disappointed by the shellacking Brodsky had absorbed. "Not at all," he replied, emphatically adding, "Not by any stretch of the imagination. For a player to get into this venue speaks volumes for their hard work over the years. Coming in, you epxect the worst because that's the easiest, then you hope for the best."
The best was not to be today, but who knows? There's always tomorrow, there's always another tournament where glory beckons, even if the next three weeks will be quiet ones for the Coney Island kid.
 by Pete Bodo
It wasn't so much that Novak Djokovic lost to Andy Murray at the Western and Southern Open in Cincinnati; it was the way he lost the final. There he was, listless and fatigued right from the get-go, struggling with his footwork and strokes, committing tactical errors—none of which was more painful and costly than the volley he smacked right back at Murray while facing break point during one of the most blistering rallies of the match. Murray won the point and went on to take a 4-3 first-set lead, after which Djokovic got but one game.
How can a player look, well, rusty when he's coming off a Masters 1000 win (just the previous week in Montreal; it was Djokovic's fifth Masters title of the year, a record)? When he'd accumulated a 57-1 record for the year and was riding a 31-match hard-court winning streak into the final? Evidently it was a combination of general fatigue and injury, neither of which could have been predicted even hours before the match. After all, the major quantifiable component in Djokovic's magnificent season has been his fitness and endurance.
This is a truly puzzling turn of events, and one with resonances for the upcoming U.S. Open, when you consider that after the match, Djokovic admitted, "I could have maybe played another couple of games, but what for? I cannot beat a player like Murray today with one stroke."
Fair enough. But it's never a good omen when someone quits. In this case, we also saw that massive thunderstorms were imminent when Djokovic pulled the plug down 6-4, 3-0. If Djokovic had wanted to preserve his chance to equal or surpass John McEnroe's record .965 winning percentage of 1984 (complied on the strength of an 82-3 record), or somehow stem the tide and reverse the momentum in the final, he could have hung in there until the rains came and then. . . whatever. But he clearly made up his mind to quit.
The way Djokovic lost to Murray may have occasioned greater rejoicing in the streets of Manacor, Spain or Bottmingen, Switzerland than if he had gone down swinging, 7-5, 6-4, for it points to more troubling potential scenarios for the Serb at the U.S. Open than the typical "any given day" loss would have. Most prominently, Is Djokovic sated, or fried?
In the first half of the year, Djokovic was essentially indefatigable and invincible; he was a doomsday stroking machine, impervious to all frailty of the flesh—a condition he attributed to his training regimen and new, gluten-free diet. If ever a man had a right to be tired, it was Djokovic when he rolled into Madrid in May with a 33-0 record and then won the title over Rafael Nadal; if ever a man had a right to be dead, it was Djokovic the very next week, as he blasted his way through the Rome draw, again overcoming Nadal in the final.
Djokovic had a well-earned rest of about three weeks after he suffered his first loss of 2011 (at the hands of Roger Federer) in the Roland Garros semifinals. But he won his next tournament, Wimbledon, and then had a break of about a month before his triumphant return in Montreal. Given the wall he hit in the final of Cincinnati, you have to wonder if that triumph in Montreal wasn't accomplished with smoke and mirrors, by a guy relying less on enthusiasm than muscle memory, confidence, and reputation. Is Djokovic back-back, or just back?
The heat and humidity in Cincinnati have always been brutal, but for many years now the top ATP pros have negotiated that hazard—thanks mainly to the long break the best players take after Wimbledon. Federer, for example, has almost always found a second wind in North Ameica in August. In the years between 2004 and 2008, the five-year period during which he won each U.S. Open, he missed just one of the 10 Masters tournaments played in Canada and Cincinnati—and won four of the nine he entered. He's always played the second half seeming just as fresh in mind and leg as he was during the first six months.
Nadal has been more prone to struggle on hard courts, and the accumulated fatigue of his routinely exceptional performances on clay have often been thought partly responsible for his failure to win the U.S. Open, until 2010. Yet whatever degree of fatigue Nadal felt, he always prepared for the Open diligently; he's played both summer Masters events every year since he qualified for the main draw at either (he's won two titles in that 14-tournament string).
Djokovic certainly has been doing yeoman's work this year, but Federer and Nadal have both had a comparable number of matches up to this point, even if they were slightly less successful even during their greatest years. Thus, Djokovic's attitude and actions are a little more mystifying than it may seem, if you just look at his degree of success. There's no real reason why he couldn't or shouldn't have been able to play through the two hard-court Masters, performing the due diligence of all champions.
The most logical explanation for Djokovic's swoon in Cincinnati is that he was just trying to take precautions in advance of the U.S. Open, loath to risk further injury to his shoulder. But we know that horses and even dogs can literally run themsleves to death, or to such a point of exhaustion that they will never recover to be the creatures they formerly were. Can that happen to a tennis player? I doubt it—at least they are unlikely to burn out permanently. But it's also true that there's a point where the spirit may be willing but the flesh is not.
Djokovic mimimized the issue of overall fatigue—hail, let's not be all polite about this, just call it "burnout"—after the match, telling the press: "I was generally exhausted playing many matches, but the exhaustion is not the reason (I quit). The reason is shoulder pain. I just could not serve."
This threat of a shoulder injury is a more insidious one when it comes to Djokovic's chances at the U.S. Open, but burnout can't be discounted. And the skeptic in me wonders just how badly he's hurt, given that Djokovic freely admitted that he could have played on against Murray. And looking forward, he commented: "The good thing is that there is a week, eight days [before] the start of the U.S. Open. So I think that's enough time for me to get ready."
Those don't sound like the words of a man who's seriously worried about missing the big show.
Given that neither Nadal, Federer, nor Murray has been lighting it up these days, the questions raised by the way Djokovic abandoned the Cincy final are apt to provide those rivals with some inspiration—motivation that may mean nothing, should Djokovic revert to the machine he was as few as two weeks ago. But if he's hit a wall, don't expect that trio to stand around wringing their hands. Nadal in particular may relish a final chance to collect a bit of Grand Slam payback, on the court he'll step onto as the defending champion in just a one week's time.
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