42 posts categorized "September 2011"
by Pete Bodo
It's axiomatic in pro tennis that one person's dire misfortune represents tremendous opportunity for someone else. We know that when the top seed in any quarter of a big draw is upset early on, the primary beneficiary is the player who beat him or her. But the reality is that the entire half of the draw potentially reaps rewards. The poor schmo who was quaking in his boots because he may have to face a Rafael Nadal or Novak Djokovic in round three suddenly feels better about dropping a hundred bucks on dinner on his night off, knowing he's got a real shot at beating the winner of that unexpected Michael Llodra vs. Fabio Fognini match.
And so it goes.
The fall is the ultimate season of opportunity for ambitious players—those who have slumped and need to re-group, or those who are sufficiently motivated to want to beef up their ranking for those critical end-of-the-year discussions with sponsors and tournaments that might be inclined dole out appearance fees. And don't forget young players (a Ryan Harrison, Grigor Dimitrov, or Bernard Tomic), or veterans who lost large chunks at the heart of the year due to injury (a Sam Querrey)—they too can position themselves nicely for the new year by closing strong.
The condition is especially relevant this year, what with Roger Federer out of the Asian swing entirely, Nadal back down to two events (Japan Open and Shanghai) and Djokovic's availability and/or fitness uncertain (he pulled out of Beijing the other day, saying the torn muscle in his back required further rest, and remains questionable for Shanghai).
So let's look at some of the players who can—"should," some might say—take heed of the wisdom in the old adage, While the cat's away, the mice will play. ..
No. 4 Andy Murray: This is a no-brainer. Murray has had a shockingly up-and-down year, yet he's managed to hold his place in the elite quartet of top players so he remains the ultimate "glass half-full, glass half-empty" guy in the Top 10. He's also the defending champ at the major fall event, the Shanghai Masters 1000. He needs to play well and close strong to feel he had a good year.
There are two significant ATP 500 events this next week, the Japan and China Opens. Murray is in the group that will go to Japan, which is too bad for him. The top seed in that event is Nadal, who's been a real nemesis for Murray this year (he once again ended Murray's Wimbledon and U.S. Open campaigns—both times in semifinals). Getting over the Nadal hurdle at least once after those two losses in majors would give Murray renewed hope that he can beat two or even all of the Top 3 in any given Grand Slam event to win that long awaited first major.
No. 7 Jo-Wilfried Tsonga: Did you notice that as soon as the Grand Slam season ended, Jo-Willy caught fire and won the title in Metz? He's in the China Open group, and could benefit from a good fall that positions him to look at 2012 as a potential career year—he's 26, hasn't been to a Grand Slam final since 2008 (Australian Open, l. to Djokovic), and injury-prone. Time to make a move, Jo.
No. 9 Gael Monfils: He's going to be top-seeded at the China Open (Beijing) now that Djokovic and Federer are out of the picture. The only Grand Slam event at which Monfils survived the third round this year was on his home court at the French Open (l. in quaterfinals to Federer); that's just not good enough for a guy with his talent.
As if his tendency to under-perform on big occasions wasn't bad enough, he's also struggled with injuries this year. Monfils has much to defend this year—a win in Montpellier, finals in Tokyo (l. to Nadal) and at the Paris Masters (l. to Soderling). In fact, the only place Monfils disappointed in the fall last year was the Shanghai Masters (l. in second round to countryman Richard Gaquet). His own act will be hard to follow, but he needs to do it in order to maintain his high ranking. You can bet he won't have Federer or those other dudes to worry about quite as often.
No. 10 Tomas Berdych: A little over a year ago, he hit a career-high No. 6; now he's on the verge of falling out of the Top 10. He retired during his third-round match with Janko Tipsarevic at the U.S. Open but played Davis Cup the week after the final major, so his injury could not have been too serious. He set to start his fall at the the China Open, and it's all potential gain. Berdych won just one match in the Beijing/Shanghai double last year, and he'll have to do better—much better—if he hopes to cling to his place among the elite.
No. 12 Gilles Simon: If there's a poster boy for what a good fall can do for you, this is the guy. He reached his career-high ranking of No. 6 in January of 2009, after a terrific fall during which he won Bucharest and made the final of the Madrid Masters. Of course, that was before the tour realignment that ended up with Madrid yielding its place on the calendar to Shanghai. But Simon proved in 2009 that he can play in Asia, too, with a win in Bangkok and a quarterfinal finish in Shanghai. If Simon, who had a good if tiring U.S. Open, hopes to get back in Top 5 territory, this is the time to do it.
No. 13 Juan Martin del Potro: Delpo has the profile of a potential big winner this fall, and he can use the boost. He seemed poised to return to full form during the U.S. hard court swing—a time when he's been particularly good in the past—but he ended up with lackluster results. Delpo is terrific on outdoor hard courts, he's always had good stamina, and he's still working his way back to top form after missing most of last year. But here's the weird thing—it's hard to find out where he's entered in the coming weeks. The guy doesn't even have an official website. The great Greg Sharko tells me that Delpo isn't playing until Shanghai, which is somewhat surprising given the opportunity.
No. 14 Andy Roddick: He had a good fall in 2010, making the quarters everywhere he played in a regular tour event after the U.S. Open (he was, however, 0-3 at the World Tour Finals) with the exception of Shanghai, where he had to pull out injured. He could really benefit from another strong fall, because the lower he falls in the rankings the tougher it will be for him to achieve the thing that has most mattered to him for some years now—a shot at winning Wimbledon. Roddick has struggled to keep up with the top four and this fall gives him an excellent chance to regain some of the lost ground.
 No. 17 Janko Tipsarevic: He declared earlier this year that he's got his sights set on the Top 10, and he's played well to crack the Top 20. This is a guy who could really do some damage on the hard courts that so suit his game over the next few weeks, starting with the Japan Open.
Tisparevic won just one match in Asia last year, and he's already surpassed that total in Kuala Lampur, where he's a semifinalist with Kei Nishikori in his sights. He could be a big winner over the next few weeks.
No. 23 Fernando Verdasco: After losing a quarterfinal to Nadal at the U.S. Open last year, Verdasco went to Asia and failed to win a match in three tries. It was part of the free fall that saw him drop far from his career-best No. 7 ranking in the spring of 2009. It's all upside for Verdasco; he ought to feel free to swing from the heels over the next weeks, maybe get his A-game back.
No. 55 Donald Young: Is there a better example of a guy who has a great deal to gain by playing well this fall, and seems nicely set up to get it done? Young is coming off his best-ever U.S. Open, and now that he's in the semis at Bangkok, he's assured of cracking the Top 50 in the next rankings. Why not keep it going, and leave Asia knocking on the door of the Top 30 or even 20?
by Pete Bodo
Howdy. Ready for another edition of our weekly news feature? These are still fairly slow times on the major tennis tours, so most of our items will focus on off-court events, so let's get right at it.
Now Sharapova, That's a Different Story!
Anna Chakvetadze has been named as a candidate for the Duma (the representative assembly of Russia) by the Right Cause political party. Chakvetadze has been through a great deal since she was the victim of a gruesome home invasion in 2007 (Chakvetadze was bound and gagged and her father Djambuli was beaten; the crooks escaped with over $300,000 USD worth of goods and cash).
Right off the bat, Anna's career nosedived. A career-high No. 5 in September 2007—she hit that number shortly before her home was invaded—she was ranked No. 70 by the end of 2009. But she regained some ground, only to collapse earlier this year due to a gastro-intestinal illness. When she returned to the tour, she began to suffer mysterious fainting spells. Anna lost in the first round of Wimbledon to Maria Sharapova and hasn't played a competitive match since; when she withdrew from the U.S. Open she cited a bad ankle as the cause. But the fainting spells have persisted, we understand.
Right Cause is a pro-business party led until recently by billionaire Mikhail Prokhorov, and is said to enjoy the support of just two percent of the population. It would seem that Chakvetadze's oddly shaped career and personal travails would raise some red flags among voters. And you have to wonder if the Moscow Times reporters didn't have some difficulties getting face-time with Anna in the past, given the paper's caustic comment on Chakvetadze's candidacy: "Right Cause will pose no threat to the Kremlin after it decided to trade President Dmitry Medvedev for a second-tier female tennis star on its party list for the elections."
Ouch!
Headlines We Love. . .
Jelena Dokic's Father Damir Still Banned From WTA.
This one reminded us of that long-running gag on Saturday NIght Live, the one that produced the repetitive "this just in" breaking news alerts: Generalissimo Franco Still Dead. However, the tennis version of that headline does raise some interesting issues, given that Jelena Dokic has been working out again under the supervision of her disgraced dad Damir.
Dokic is training with Damir in Serbia, but is still in an "on" phase of her on-again/off-again relationship with her adopted continent/nation of Australia. Hence, this release on the sensitive subject of Damir Dokic from Tennis Australia. Jelena's explanation of her situation is downright touching.
"I would like to confirm media reports that I have reconciled with my father. My partner Tin Bikic and I have visited my father at his home to finally put an end to our disagreement. I initiated the meeting as I want to reunite my family and allow us all to get on with our lives and be happy. This has gone on too long. I am in a very positive and confident frame of mind in my life and I really wanted to do this because I believe it is the right thing to do both for me and for all of my family. My father was very receptive and I believe he has changed greatly. He understands that I am my own person who makes my own decisions."
Okay, but—what's the WTA going to do if and when it comes to this little matter of on-court coaching?
Are You Doing This Just to Make Us Look Bad?
All-England Club chairman Philip Brook has told the Lawn Tennis Writer's Association that Wimbledon officials are contemplating building a roof over Court No. 1, which would give the venerable Grand Slam site two covered courts in case of rain. The Australian Open also has two courts with retractable roofs (Rod Laver and Hisense Arenas), and one is in the works for the re-design of Roland Garros. The U.S. Open still has no roofed stadium.
Furthermore, Wimbledon showed signature foresight when it built Court No. 1 as part of the Millenium renovation in 1997, designing the stadium (the capacity is over 7,300, with not a bad seat in the house) so that a retractable roof could be added to the structure later. We notice that the USTA built Ashe the same year—without comparable planning, much to the outfit's present chagrin.
This will undoubtedly put the USTA under even more pressure to find a solution to a problem that's looking more and more like it belongs to a different century (unfortunately, an earlier one). But that won't be easy. The engineering problems and costs of retro-fitting relatively new Arthur Ashe stadium with a roof are prohibitive. That's partly because of Ashe's epic scale: with a capacity of over 23,000, it's the largest tennis stadium in the world.
Of course, it almost never rains at Wimbledon any more, now that the Centre Court as a retractable roof. So I'm proposing that the USTA get some parachute cloth and a few miles of bungee cord and rig up some kind of flimsy cover for Ashe, which would pretty much guarantee that the rain that has forced a Monday final the last four years will never happen again.
But seriously. I don't know what the solution is, but I think the way to approach the problem is to decide that, whatever is done, the show must go on. Rain cannot be allowed to bring the entire tournament to a grinding halt. Simple as that, for a starting point. If that means rebuilding one of the smaller venues or a block of outside courts to create a modest covered stadium, do it. If that means stationing ball boys and girls all around the courts holding giant umbrellas to keep the rain off, do it. If it means exploding a medium-sized nuclear warhead high up in the atmosphere to disperse. . . well, let's not go quite that far.
But it's a pretty easy rule to understand, embrace, and prioritize, even if it's still being ignored at Flushing Meadows: The show must go on.
 Tell me Again Do They Call Them "Majors?"
Maria Sharapova went down at the Pan Pacific Open today with an ankle injury, throwing any hope she may have entertained for finishing the year as the No. 1 player in jeopardy. On the other hand, No. 3 seed Victoria Azarenka advanced today with a convincing 7-5, 6-0 rubout of Marion Bartoli. Azarenka also has a shot at the No. 1 ranking that currently belongs to Caroline Wozniacki (who was upset in Tokyo earlier in the week).
Wozniacki embarked on the fall season with an enormous number of points to defend (almost 2800). She lost just one match after the U.S. Open, the last official WTA match of the year (l. to Kim Clijsters in the finals of the WTA Tour Championships). Should she lose early next week in Beijing and at the championships as well, Sharapova, Azarenka, Vera Zvonareva or even Li Na could overtake her—but every one of them would need to catch fire the rest of the way.
Sharapova has the most to gain and least to defend; she won just one match last fall. But her ankle injury raises serious concerns. Azarenka, on the other hand, is a streaky player and last year her schedule included Moscow as well as Tokyo and Beijing. If she plays the same events and goes on the kind of torrid streak she put together this spring, and Wozniacki falters, Azarenka could give us something the WTA doesn't necessarily need: A third, different "slamless" year-end No. 1 player in four years (Jelena Jankovic and Wozniacki are her antecedents).
It will reinforce the idea that that if you want to be the WTA No. 1, the first thing you need to do is avoid winning one of them there Grand Slam thingies.
You Can Come Out From Under the Bed, Marian, Uncle Toni. . .
What's with the spate of high-profile coaching changes/firings? We saw above that Jelena Dokic has re-connected with her bizarre dad, Damir. And now the China Daily informs us that Li Na has split with Michael Mortensen, the coach to whom she gave so much credit when she won that historic first Grand Slam at Roland Garros. I really like Li, but I have serious questions about what she expects or wants out of a coach. Or maybe she's just too cheap to pay these guys what they want and/or deserve. It's been known to happen.
Meanwhile, Kim Clijsters has deep-sixed Wim Fissette (or is it the other way around? According to Clijsters' website, Fissette claims to want "to go his own way." Cue Stevie Nicks) in favor of Carl Maes. We assume this is all just in case Kimmie decides to play tennis again—rumor has it that she's going to make a comeback at the U.S. Open of 2018, after bearing three more children.
Melanie Oudin has dumped her long-time private coach, Brian DeVilliers, in favor of the USTA's Tom Gullikson. And who could have ignored the news that the love-hate relationship between Donald Young and the USTA is on again? Mike Sell, the former coach of Monica Seles, is traveling in Asia with Donald this month. And Ilona Young, Donald's mother and long reputed to be a source of some of the problems between the USTA and Young, is along on the trip too—as a sightseer. Or so they say...
Not to be outdone in the break-up and make-up department, another young American has mended fences with his former coach. Young Jack Sock, who paired with Oudin to win the U.S. Open mixed doubles title, has rehired Mike Wolf after a split lasting a few weeks.
Somebody Had to Say It. . .
This story about (top) player discontent and rumblings about potential job actions and other labor-related confrontations is one that just won't go away—at least not until we finish with the CCS, or Calendar Complaint Season. Don't we go through comparable wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth every fall, and doesn't Rafael Nadal complain about the calendar as reliably as the aspen leaves turn gold come October?
Not to pick on poor Rafa or anything, but. . . Yet the gravity and tone of the conversation is certainly is a little different this year—partly because the CCS got off to an early, electric start because of the bad weather at the U.S. Open.
I see that a few crusty and much-respected veterans weighed in on the calendar/off-season issues just the other day. Pete Sampras and Jim Courier were both quoted at Tennis Grandstand on the issues that have been bandied about here. But listen to what Sampras had to say:
"I think if the players want to get things done, they all have to get in the same room, the top ten guys, they all agree upon one thing, and they walk out of that room with a definite decision, that’s the only way things will get done. Everyone is complaining about the schedule. In Davis Cup, even when I was playing and before, [the scheduling] didn’t work, we complained about it, but nothing really got done...The top guys have so much power, they have all the power. It’s a name-driven sport. If Nadal, Murray, Djokovic and Federer don’t play something, or threaten to do something, it will get done, trust me."
This begs the question: So if that's all it really takes (and let's face it, that isn't much), why hasn't it happened already, back when Pete and Jim were playing, or even before?
There's only one real answer: Because you couldn't get the 10 guys in a room, or if you did you couldn't get them to agree on a course of action. The latter is the most likely explanation. I don't know why you wouldn't run into the same obstacle(s) you have today. Let's not forget—the calendar was designed with complete input from . . . the players. That's right. From the way people are talking you'd think some big meanie at the ITF or ATP had shoved this down the players' throats. There's a reason for why the calendar is what is, and the ATP players checked off on it every step of the way. Hey, Federer, Nadal and Djokovic are currently on the ATP board, are they not?
Courier took a surprisingly hard-nosed stance (could be that because he's now a tour promoter/entrepreneur, he actually understands something of how the tennis business works). He said: "Everyone in this sport, since Billie Jean King and Arthur Ashe and Stan Smith fought for Open tennis, we’ve all been overpaid, grossly overpaid, for what we do. So let’s be clear that this not a pity party."
No, it's just the time of year. Calendar Complaint Season is in full swing.
by Pete Bodo
Yesterday, we pondered Serena Williams' future in tennis, so why not take a look today at the anti-Serena (even though the two women are friendly), Caroline Wozniacki? You know, the blonde, happy-go-lucky Dane who's been threatening to replace Kim Clijsters as the ranking "nice girl" of the WTA. Where Serena is explosive, Wozniacki is consistent. Where Serena is mercurial, Wozniacki is predictable. Where Serena is tart, Wozniacki is sweet. Where Serena is glowering, Wozniacki is sunny. Where Serena is a 13-time Grand Slam champion with no ranking to speak of, Wozniacki is the WTA's official No. 1 with no major titles to speak of.
It's especially appropriate to weigh these contrasts now because Wozniacki didn't just benefit from circumstances that enabled her to become No. 1 for a brief period; she's the defending year-end No. 1, and very well-positioned to earn that honor again. And how would it look for the WTA if she finished on top for the second year in a row while Grand Slam champions old (Li Na, Francsesca Schiavone, Serena Williams Sam Stosur) and young (Petra Kvitova) languish somewhere below?
Roughly a year ago, the conversations about Wozniacki ranged from whether or not she was a credible No. 1 (having earned that ranking without having won a single Grand Slam event) to when—or if—she actually would bag that elusive first major. Through the Grand Slam events this year, I was willing to appreciate rather than criticize Wozniacki, to give her the benefit of the doubt rather a doubtful benefit of criticism. After all, she hit No. 1 late last year at the tender age of 20. She had plenty of time to establish her Grand Slam bona fides. There was no reason to think she wouldn't break through at a major...
Or was there?
Critics spoke of her shortfall of power, her lack of a real weapon. They mentioned her so-so serve, and how hard it would be for her to hold against a fearless opponent, a Serena. They brought up the "J" word as well.
Just three years ago, Jelena Jankovic secured the year-end no. 1 ranking for 2008 in much the same way as Wozniacki but at the considerably later age of 23. Jankovic hit the summit after a long and steady climb that started in 2004, when she was first ranked inside the Top 100. Poised to consolidate her position in 2009, Jankovic played a miserable match to flame out in the fourth round at the Australian Open (l. to Marion Bartoli). It only got worse from there. She didn't win a match at either of the two big U.S. combined events (Indian Wells and Miami), and she didn't make the quarterfinals at either Roland Garros or Wimbledon. Jankovic finished 2009 at No. 8, and despite periodic stirrings has only lost traction since then. She's presently out of the Top 10, at No. 12.
Is Wozniacki headed in the same direction? It's a good and especially poignant question today, on the heels of the news that top-seeded Wozniacki lost in the third round of the Topay Pan Pacific Open to Estonia's Kaia Kanepi. Coming into the tournament, Kanepi had won exactly one main tour match since the French Open, sinking outside the Top 40. Wasn't consistency supposed to be Wozniacki's great strength, and the key to her compiling the best record in the WTA?
It's hard to fault a player who lives up to expectations, and her seeding, most of the time. But this year Wozniacki has had periodic troubles doing that. She's faltered since the clay-court season. After a disappointing Wimbledon (l. to Dominkia Cibulkova, fourth round), she retired from her second-round match at Bastad with shoulder trouble, and absorbed first round losses at Toronto and Cincinnati. She won New Haven (for the fourth time) but fell well short of threatening Serena Williams in the U.S. Open semifinals.
The loss in Tokyo is another mystery, and if Wozniacki keeps playing in fits and starts, her No. 1 ranking may be in jeopardy. Wozniacki is defending almost 3,000 ranking points (combined) in Tokyo, Beijing and at the WTA Tour Championships (she lost just one match at those three events—the tour championships final). And her lead over No. 2 Maria Sharapova and No. 3 Victoria Azarenka is barely over 3,000 points. Should Wozniacki lose that No. 1 ranking, it will substantiate the idea that she was No. 1 mainly because she showed up—an act that should not be underestimated, but also one that isn't going to get your face on a postage stamp.
I've been disappointed by Wozniacki, albeit in a pretty subtle way. Jankovic's moth-and-flame dance with the No. 1 ranking was understandable; she's a bit of a flake. But Wozniacki always seemed more solid—more reliable. Her game also is sturdier, although few women players have provided me with as much pure spectating pleasure as the fugacious Ms. Jankovic. I still believe Wozniacki has the game to win a major and prove a worthy No. 1, but I'm less convinced these days about her mind and spirit.
One of the great talents shared by almost all great players is the ability to lift their games when it's most needed, especially at Grand Slam events. In this regard, Wozniacki has been very disappointing. The best way to understand her shortcomings is to contrast them with those of two of the "surprise" Grand Slam champions who snatched up majors this year from right under Wozniacki's nose.
The first of them, Li Na, personally derailed Wozniacki at one of the two venues where she's most likely to win a major, the Australian Open. Like Jankovic in 2009, Wozniacki missed her first chance to win a major as the No. 1 player at the start of the year, although it was nothing like the mess Jankovic made of a similar challenge. Li won a well and hotly-contested match, 6-3 in the third—her second consecutive win over Wozniacki in Melbourne.
At the French Open, Daniela Hantuchova played lights out tennis to crush Wozniacki in the third round, 6-1, 6-3. You had to feel for Wozniacki, especially when Li went on to claim the title in Paris, doing what Wozniacki apparently could not—find a way and the determination to win. You had to wonder why Wozniacki was unable to muster at least slightly stiffer resistance to Hantuchova; was it just (bad) luck of the draw, or did Wozniacki's game—or mentality—somehow feed Hantuchova's fire? It's always a tough question. And it's always disconcerting to see a No. 1 and top contender get blown out at a major.
Wozniacki played a solid match againt an inspired Cibulkova in the fourth round at Wimbledon, when little more than a "solid" effort was required. Wozniacki cracked near the end and went down, 7-5 in the third. It was different from the loss to Hantuchova; Wozniacki was never in that one. But in Cibulkova, Wozniacki met exactly the type of opponent, in exactly the type of match, that a Grand Slam champion finds a way to win. I don't want to take anything away from Cibulkova, but a top player elevates her game and wins that match, eight times out of 10.
It was even worse at the U.S. Open, where Wozniacki, who had been looking strong, bowed meekly in the semis to Serena Williams, 6-2, 6-4. Wozniacki was unable to impose her game on Serena, or her character on the game. Those are things Wozniacki needs to do and, at least as far as he game goes, can do, given her heft and height (she's an easy 5' 10"). You can't underestimate Serena but you can certainly draw yet another contrast between these two—Serena is great at elevating her game, and in a way that's even harder to describe than to explain, her presence. Wozniacki, by contrast, tends to decline on the big occasion, both as a player and a force on the court.
If there's anything heartening in all this for Wozniacki fans, it's that her record in majors in 2011 was somewhat better than in 2010. Already ranked No. 4 and seemingly more poised to win her first major than to become No. 1, Wozniacki was crushed (6-4, 6-3) by Li in the fourth round of last year's Australian Open. She got two fewer games off Francesca Schiavone (who would at least go on to win the title) in the quarters of the French Open. Petra Kvitova bombarded Wozniacki, 6-2, 6-0, at Wimbledon, and the Dane failed to win a set against Vera Zvonareva in the semis of the U.S. Open.
Wozniacki's major problem isn't insoluble; she mainly needs to find a way—or is it a reason?—to kick her game into a higher gear when it most counts. This is a need she must recognize and address. Unfortunately, that mandate may call on dimensions of character she may not have (for not all players have those aspects, just look at David Ferrer or Zvonareva). Wozniacki is not really a dramatic type, nor does she seem particularly emotional. Perhaps she can have a little chat with her friend Serena about that.
by Pete Bodo
It's official; Serena Williams has joined Roger Federer in that hazy, uncertain land tennis players enter when they turn 30. It shouldn't be a big deal. It may not be a big deal. Thirty is just a number. But it's a big deal. At the professional level, tennis is as much a mind game as body game, and nobody, but nobody, can claim ignorance of the implications of turning 30.
The big questions in this regard are: how much longer will Serena play, and how many more major titles will she bag before she calls it quits? It's a question of enormous import for tennis folks in the United States, because barring a miraculous resurgence by Serena's sister, Venus, it's unlikely that the USA will have serious contender at Grand Slam events once Serena packs it in. But the question resonates in the rest of the world as well, because Serena has become an iconic figure. And unlike her fellow 30-year-old icon (the male, from Switzerland), Serena is also a lightning rod for controversy, a woman who stirs deep feelings in supporters and detractors alike.
My, my, how times flies. It seems like just yesterday that Richard Williams walked into the press interview room at the Miami combined event, after one of Venus' first professional matches, with a shy, powerfully built, watchful girl kitted-out in a gray track suit trailing behind him. He introduced her as his other daughter—Serena—and told anyone who would listen that she would be even better than Venus.
Serena just stood by his side, wide-eyed, bashful, seemingly unsure of what to make of it all.
Many in the clutch of reporters rolled their eyes. There goes Richard Williams, blowing smoke again. Isn't it enough that he's got Venus? What's he trying to do, build up this poor kid's confidence?
I'll be the first to admit that you could count me among the skeptics. Young Serena, though appealing, was built like a linebacker—her shoulders were already broad, those thighs even then strained against the fabric surrounding them. She was fleshy, almost doughy-looking. By contrast, Venus was lean, lithe, and she looked supremely athletic. My own feeling was that Venus represented a kind of ultimate female tennis player, the one John McEnroe always had in mind when he opined that tennis needed to attract a higher grade of athlete—code, of course, for just the kind of African-American that tennis inevitably lost to football, track or basketball.
Well, it turns out that McEnroe's (and my) "ideal" tennis athlete isn't the end-all and be-all—proof once again that tennis is not a one-size-(or body-type)-fits-all kind of game, and that what goes on between the ears, in the heart, and along the sizzling nervewires embedded in the muscles counts for much—for more, we've learned, than the advantages bestowed by a superior body.
Back then, I thought Venus had the goods—she was a female Bjorn Borg whose wingspan, quickness, stamina and use of topspin would render her unbeatable. But it turned out that she didn't have Borg's steely concentration and stroking discipline.
It also turned out that Serena was something better, or at least more useful in the context of her life, than a mere athlete. She was a . . . tennis player! Shoulders and thighs and all. A tennis player in a way that nobody could teach. She was never a ball chaser or rallier, unless it was absolutely necessary. She's always been a point-ender, with a nose for the shortest route between points A and B. Serena can be lazy in the same sense that Pete Sampras was lazy. Both knew when to tread water and when to give it the gas. And Serena always was brave. For her, big points represent opportunity, not trip-wires.
Serena's qualities don't necessarily or exclusively come by nature, either. Tennis is a pretty ritualized game with a flat learning curve. You become good in small increments, and along the way you find out if, like the best of players, you're more than a good athlete, a disciplined and hard-working disciple, or a solid competitor. You find out if you're a tennis player, in the way Roger Federer is a tennis player and Serena Williams is a tennis player. Each of them exudes a kind of ownership when he or she plays; tennis isn't just something they do, it's something they are. Which doesn't mean they'll always win or don't make hideous mistakes. It just means that they have an innate feel for and comfort with the game in all the areas where it counts, including the mental. It's an advantage few of their peers or rivals can match—win or lose.
Perusing the news yesterday, I came across an interesting roundtable about Serena's legacy and future at SI.com. The writers there devote much time to allocating Serena's specific space in the tennis firmament, and they also predict her future beyond the age of 30—suggesting that she may win between three and five more majors (she presently has 13).
When it comes to determining Serena's place among the greats, we come up against that age-old tension between statistics and subjective judgments. A remarkable number of observers think that Serena at her best is the greatest woman player who ever lived—much the same has been said for two men who aren't really in the hunt in the Greatest of All Time debate, Lew Hoad and Pancho Gonzalez.
Serena is unlikely to come anywhere near the Grand Slam title total amassed by Steffi Graf (22), whose record includes a "Golden Slam" (all four majors plus an Olympic games gold medal collected in the same year—it remains a singular feat). But she shares a profile of those two male legends. All three were power players whose serves were great weapons. Their power could pre-emptively determine the outcome of any given match. And they were superb, fearless ball-strikers and competitors.
One of the more interesting statistics cited in the SI piece is that in six of her 13 Grand Slam finals, Serena's opponent was. . . Venus Williams. While this is a great tribute to the legacy of the Williams family, it undermines Serena's personal history slightly owing to the family dynamics. That's a subject best left for another time (like, never), but it's good to keep in mind that the saga of the Williams family remains one of the least probable ones ever created in sports. It's nothing short of amazing and will probably tower even higher than Serena's biography and record in tennis history.
But the big question remains hanging—how much does Serena have left in the tank? The writers at SI seem to suggest at least three years, but I'm not as sanguine. While Serena has shown a formidable talent for vanishing from sight only to return and clear the decks, restoring something like a natural order in which she sits perched atop the food chain, I'm not convinced she can keep doing that. Before she lost to Sam Stosur at the U.S. Open, Serena last let a major final slip away in 2008 (she lost to Venus at Wimbledon). She's lost only four finals in her career—two at Wimbledon, the other one on the same hard court where Stosur took her measure a month ago. And that was back in 2001.
During the most recent final, Serena looked tired and subdued. Flashes of that storied determination and hunger were few and far between. You could put that down to some form of fatigue or lack of mental or emotional fitness (after all, she was just back and playing just her sixth tournament after a layoff lasting nearly a year), but that's never hampered Serena before. And it's unlikely that she's going to experience a late career change of heart and start playing tournaments left and right in an attempt to recover her mojo. She's clearly comfortable with the approach she's taken, but I'm not sure it can continue to work. The inevitable, age-related decline in motivation and focus, combined with a paucity of match play, will present Serena with formidable obstacles. Stosur's win was convincing as well as resounding. It will hearten other WTA contenders.
But above all else, 30 is 30. We saw how Federer slipped on the slope of his age this year. He failed to win a major for the first time since 2003, failed to close out Jo-Wilfried Tsonga when he had him on the ropes at Wimbledon, failed to convert either of two match points in his U.S. Open semifinal with Novak Djokovic.
Martina Navratilova and others have shown us that the number 30 is less menacing for WTA than ATP members, but we also know that Serena hasn't raised fitness and training to the level of art, the way Navratilova once did. The way it would seem any player past the age of 30 and still hoping to be a major, consistent force must do. We learned a long time ago never to count Serena out of the hunt, but at this point the chase only becomes tougher. That's a hail of a birthday present, I know, but that's the life of a tennis player.
by Pete Bodo
Greetings. We're now officially well underway in what I've always thought of as, with no malice intended, the "twilight zone" portion of the ATP and WTA calendars—the fall Asian circuit. Three weeks worth of tournaments that seem an ideal fit for the part of the world in which they take place (the temperature in Shanghai at noon today was a pleasant 75-degree F.), but which most of us in the "traditional" capitals of tennis have some trouble focusing on because of the apparent backward lurch in the calendar they represent. It doesn't help that this is also the start of the WTA and (mostly) ATP's official CCS (Calendar Complaint Season).
Didn't we just stagger and lurch out of the long, hot summer, with another classic segue into early fall at the U.S. Open? Granted, it's been different these past two or three years. You must remember the years when the heat and humidity in New York seemed borderline intolerable at the start of the American Grand Slam, only to yield with startling predictability to the first cool, crisp days of autumn. The weather has been much wetter these recent years, but also more temperate. All the more reason to see the U.S. Open the way the architects of the pro tennis calendar would like us view it—not as the end of something (the Grand Slam season), but part of a continuum that doesn't play out until the ATP and WTA year-end championships are done.
That is, we're supposed to reserve judgment on the events of the year until the season has officially concluded. This is a hard thing to do, because the four majors are still the most important events of the year; thus, everything that comes after the last one is finished in New York has the feel of anti-climax. The fall, overall, is like the obligatory third-place game played between the losing semifinalists in a knock-out tournament. And there's a reason there's no third place match at a Grand Slam event.
Of course, we might embrace the attempt to capture those vaunted "emerging markets" and bring them into the family fold, even if we have to shoehorn them into the attic or basement. But in yet another proof that life really is very different for the players at the very top of the food chain and the rank-and-file, the Asian swing also spells opportunity—a chance for those who blew it during those majors and Premier Mandatory and Masters 1000 events to rekindle hope and, picking through the leavings, add a few more ranking points here and there.
Or is it?
The best example of what a good, strong fall can do for you comes to us from Novak Djokovic. His resurgence began in 2010 during the U.S. Open, where he made the final and lost to Rafael Nadal. Now imagine how different recent tennis history might have been had the season ended right then—one of the most logical of moments to pull the plug on all but Davis Cup if you're really wedded to the idea that tennis players need and deserve a two or three month off-season.
Perhaps nothing would have been different in 2011 for Djokovic, had he decided to lounge around Monaco for a few months after Flushing Meadows and Davis Cup, emerging now and then to play an exhibition event. Makeovers of either game, character, or priorities are rarely circumstantially triggered—rather, they're banks of the Rubicon decisions, taken at sometimes unanticipated personal crossroads. And they can shape an entire career.
Pete Sampras, for example, spent over two years (starting in 1991) mentally treading water before he decided to give his all, emotionally and physically, to the challenge of becoming—and remaining—the dominant player on the tour. He met his crisis head-on at the U.S. Open of 1992, when he failed to dig deep enough and more or less yielded the final to Stefan Edberg. But he didn't demonstrate what a difference that match made in his career until almost a year later, when he won Wimbledon for the first time and knew that, henceforth, he would always be in it to win it.
It doesn't seem to have been quite so black-and-white a decision for Djokovic, partly because of the increased status and value of the fall tournaments. He really began the drive that set him up for 2011 with a win in Beijing and a semi at the Shanghai Masters (losing to Federer). Djokovic lost to Federer three times last fall (in Shanghai, the final of Basel, and the semis of the ATP World Tour Finals) and the dynamic seemed clear—a newly energized Djokovic was making a run; the veteran Federer, still ensconced behind Nadal as the strong and clear No. 2, was doing yeoman's work keeping the likes of Djokovic and Andy Murray down on the farm.
For Djokovic, it only took that final, season-ending Davis Cup championship (note that two of the critical wins leading to Serbia's triumph occurred during what we can properly call the "fall season," a fact that helps boost the status of the fall events in the eyes of those who appreciate Davis Cup) to confirm that he had indeed turned some kind of corner, both status and results-wise. One of the more intriguing questions is just how much less confident Djokovic might have been had Serbia lost that Davis Cup final. But never mind about that now.
In the same way, Nadal's autumn of 2010 carried portents of a different kind of fall. He was upset at the ATP 250 in Bangkok by Guillermo Garcia Lopez, skipped Beijing, won the 500 event in Tokyo but fell in the third round at the Shanghai Masters to Jurgen Melzer. In his last event, Nadal lost at the World Tour Finals to Federer.
Speaking of whom—Federer had the best fall among all the players in 2010. After that critical failure against Djokovic at the U.S. Open (remember Double Match Point, Episode 1?), Federer took a month off. Then he went 21-2 for the fall, losing only to Murray (final of Shanghai) and Gael Monfils (semis of Paris Bercy, in three tiebreaker sets). With hindsight, it now seems that perhaps the major difference between Federer and Djokovic in 2011 was nothing more complicated than six years of age—at a time when, in Federer's case, each year brings exponentially bigger obstacles than the last.
Now that we can blank out what emotional prejudices we have against the way the calendar creates a back-to-the future summer in Asia, it's obvious that 2010 produced a fall to be remembered—a fall fraught with significances, hints and omens, perhaps the greatest fall segment, ever. But it's shaping up as a different story this year. Federer has already pulled out of Shanghai—that means he won't play in Asia at all this autumn. Nadal is penciled in for just two Asian events (he played three last year), and Djokovic is scheduled for two as well, Beijing and Shanghai. However, we last saw Mr. No. 1 limping off the court with a bad back after abandoning a Davis Cup match, so who knows what his near future will be?
Clearly, we're already looking at a radically altered landscape for 2011. The good news, if that's the right term for it, is that the tepid support by the top players (only Djokovic is playing as much in Asia as he did last fall) will translate to opportunities for those players who have the energy, determination and skill to make the most of the fall. Murray is entered in three tournaments in Asia, and given his up-and-down year, he could certainly benefit in many ways from having a good fall.
It's unlikely that the Asian tournaments and the remainder of the fall events will wind up resonating quite the same way they did in 2010, but if you're having trouble wrapping your head around the fall season, just think how last year's events foretold those of this year, as well as how they led us astray in at least one case, that of Federer.
 Good mornin'. Well, now that we've had our annual blood-letting about the clalendar, spiced this time around by rumors of a job action and yet another tug-of-war over whether or not "time off" for a tennis player is really time off, as in "lay on a beach with a fruity drink propped on your tummy" time off, it's time to come to grips with the fact that despite the anti-climactic feeling that washes over us after the end of the U.S Open (we were reprieved, this year, for another week by Davis Cup), the tennis tour goes on - the game goes on, generating great matches and interesting, familiar yet always different narratives of wild success or dismal failure, unexpected brushes with glory or bitter and brutal confrontations with shortcomings, or fate. . .
Did you see where Chanelle Scheepers just won the first WTA title of her career, at Guangzhou?
And you think it would be great if tennis went dark after the U.S. Open? Be careful what you wish for.
Anyway, enjoy the matches over the weekend, see y'all on Monday.
-- Pete
by Jackie Roe, TW Social Director
Evening, TWibe! I haven’t chatted with you guys in ages—how’s everyone holding up? I get the sense that we could use a TW kumbaya moment; maybe it’ll come with another installment of the YouTube series. Or the Hott List? I’ll put my thinking cap on . . . (As always, if you have any ideas for future Deuce Clubs, feel free to e-mail me.)
For now, let’s return to our All About Me TWiber profiles. It's our most tennis-centric one yet! Enjoy:
Who am I?
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Brown
Siblings: 4
Favorite musician: Morris Day
Favorite actress: Halle Barry
Favorite comedian: Steve Harvey
Favorite songs: “Runaway Girl” by LL Cool J and “That Girl” by Stevie Wonder
Favorite TV show: Lizard Lick Towing
What you like to do on the weekend: Watch or attend tennis or (American) football events
Favorite color: Blue
Favorite food: Chicken
Favorite sport: Football and tennis
Favorite vacation spot: Tunica, Mississippi
Pets: No
Favorite number: 1
Favorite day: Sunday
Favorite tennis tournament: Wimbledon
Favorite part of the tennis season: Clay
Worst feeling in the world: Having to go to work on Monday after watching a good tennis final on Sunday
Where do you want to live?: St. Louis, Missouri
Fears: Not having enough money to do what I want to do in life
Allergies: None
Do you believe in heaven and hell?: Yes
Do you believe in aliens?: No
What do you do that makes your relatives or friends mad?: Watching tennis during football discussions
Favorite restaurant: Logan’s
Hard liquor or beer?: Beer
Chicken or turkey?: Chicken
What are you thinking at this very moment?: When does tennis start?
Favorite kinds of clothes: Blue jeans
Something I want to do before I die: Go to at least one Slam, go to a major bowl game or the Super Bowl
What do I dislike: Running errands during a good tennis match
What makes me angry: Computer decides to freeze (or go slow) when streaming tennis matches
Who would I want to meet?: Serena and Venus Williams
Who do I miss posting on TW: Aussiemarg and Rachael [JR: AM’s been back for a little while now, yes? One down, one to go . . . ]
The person that makes me smile the most at TW: Jewell
The last dream I remember: Winning a lottery jackpot of over a million dollars (not taxable!)
If I could change one thing that happened in my life, what would it be? Put more effort into playing sports when I was younger.
How I discovered TW: Clicked on a link at ESPN.com reading tennis news [JR: Me too!]
Favorite TW moment: Being around for the duration of the 2008 Wimbledon final and reading the reactions of the posters
So, any guesses?
One last thing: Our beloved Bismarck celebrates his birthday tomorrow, so let's all thoroughly embarrass him and send him our well-wishes. Party hardy (hearty?), Bis!
Go ahead and use this thread to call this weekend’s matches, after we’ve exhausted all of our OT energy. :) Have a great weekend, everyone!
 by Pete Bodo
I was just thinking about how this entire "reform" (or is it "complaint"?) movement has been picking up steam when I got the news that Roger Federer has withdrawn from the Shanghai Masters (week of Oct. 10), a huge blow—and not the first one—in a long saga of promises made and broken to the Shanghai promoters. Federer wrote on his website:
“After consultation with my team, I’ve unfortunately decided to pull out of the Shanghai Rolex Masters in order to take some necessary time to rest and recuperate after a long summer. I have some nagging injuries that I need to address and I look forward to returning to the ATP World Tour as soon as possible. I have very fond memories of Shanghai so I will miss this amazing tournament and all my loyal Chinese fans, but I look forward to returning to China next fall.”
Roger Federer is not even the No. 1 player in the world and yet you can almost hear the collective groan rising from far eastern shores. The situation underscores the extent to which all but the Grand Slam tournaments desperately rely on a handful of names to sell tickets. It was ever thus in tennis, and it shall be so until Nick Bollettieri retires or forevermore, whichever comes first.
This is an important point to keep in mind as talk heats up about the players forming a new union, with even as negligible (for these purposes) a player as Somdev Devvarman generating headlines with his call for a workplace revolution. The problem with such a rebellion is that if it's an ATP-wide movement, the top players cannot but lose ground or end up pretty much right where they are—working a lot longer and harder than journeyman like Devvarman, but also making amazing sums for efforts. The top players carry the tour; take them out of the line-up and you have no tournament (or no ticket-buyers or television rights holders at any rate).
The present situation seems pretty fair to me, but apparently it isn't to the likes of Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal, and others who bitterly complain about having to play too much, yet each of whom has played more—by his own choice—than the ATP demands. And for no greater reason than the related urges to make more money and/or improve his ranking.
One of the first things any player's union would undertake is spelling out obligations for its membership, and that must begin with tournament commitments. Do you think the job-hungry journeymen of this world, knowing no tournament is going to offer big money (some of which proportionately trickles down to first and second-round losers) without a few "stars" in the line-up, are going to lower the commitment bar?
I want to pause for a moment to look at something else Devvarman said, because it's become something of a rallying cry for the malcontents: "Also, we get only 12 percent of the revenue (at Grand Slam events—my parenthetical, PB) while it is we who generate the revenue."
This is grotesquely naive and breathtakingly simplistic. Devvarman makes it sound like there would be no such thing as Wimbledon, or the U.S. Open, if he and his colleagues didn't deign to show up to play. The reality is the reverse, and that's been proved. The event is bigger than the players. The event also represents roughly, oh, 100 years of development, investment and risk on the part of the promoters, never mind the expertise and massive outlay of money required to run the show—which of course is a 12-month rather than two-week annual job.
Devvarman and others are catching on the the fact that tennis doesn't have a player's union, but what the dissidents fail to understand is that at the critical moment (1988 and the now famous "parking lot press conference"—feel free to Google it) the ATP—which was a player's union—remade itself into a partnership between the players and the tournaments. It developed that way because a bunch of fired-up, gung-ho, freedom-seeking tennis players looked at each other at the moment they decided to take over the tour and make it better for the players and simultaneously asked, "What do we do now?"
They did what they had to do, what anyone in his right mind would have done. They turned to the tournament promoters and formed a partnership. There were political machinations galore, big winnerrs and big losers—but not among the players. One thing about that segment of the community: They will never, ever risk their own (or borrowed) money to create a new entity or event, which is exactly why they have no right to demand excessive influence. The players are hired hands, they're the help. They assume no risk or responsibility; the rewards they get are guaranteed and performance-based in the most individualistic way imaginable. Don't you wish it were that clear in your life?
There's a terrible back-to-the-future air about this entire debate. The players are a dog chasing its own tail. The ATP and WTA should certainly negotiate the best deal it can get from the tournaments, but also keep in mind that were it not for the ITF and Grand Slams there probably would be no ATP, and no pro game. There certainly would be no not-for-profit development program to sow the seeds of the game across every continent. Who do you think puts together those junior tournaments at which the future Federers of this world meet the future Djokovics or Nadals? Who created the infrastructure that allows every nation on earth to field a Davis Cup team, and helps provide the funds to enable the competition? It certainly isn't the ATP or WTA, which is another good reason not to allow the pro player organizations to be the major power in the game; all they would do is perpetuate themselves and enrich their constituents.
Tennis truly is different from other sports. That ought to be the starting point for any discussion or negotiation. And tennis has come a long, long way since the dawn of Open tennis in 1968. Personally, I don't see any way to re-make tennis in a manner that would free the top players from their obligation to carry the tour—not if those top players want to have a proper tour. But that's a little bit what the present agitation is really about: Do we really need as comprehensive and rich a tour as we have now? And that's precisely why the Devvarmans of this world ought to be careful what they wish for.
One other note: By virtue of pulling out of Shanghai, Roger Federer will enjoy a tennis-free month to rest, rehab and practice. Novak Djokovic had a month off after Wimbledon, and he didn't even have to pull out of a tournament to get that free time. So it's not entirely accurate to claim that tennis isn't the only sport without an off-season. The more accurate way to put it is that tennis is the only sport that has no. . . season. It offers three or four "off-seasons" every year because it's an interval sport.
Perhaps the stars could prevail upon the ATP and the other stakeholders to end the year right after the U.S. Open. Just don't ask me to write about the avalanche of lawsuits and multi-million dollar transactions (none involving players great or small) this will trigger from the promoters of events like Shanghai, to whom the ATP has promised the moon (or at least Roger Federer), back when top players were more than happy to have year-round earning opportunities.
by Pete Bodo
Well, here we are again, culling and mulling the news, now that we don't have a major event to keep us otherwise occuped. So let's get right to it.
Money For Nothing
A fair amount of the news in recent days has been created or generated by Andy Murray. Unfortunately for his fans and long-suffering British subjects, the stories aren't drenched in Grand Slam glory; rather, they're complaints by Murray, who sometimes appears to want add "spoiled ingrate" to his present title of "Best Male Player Never to Have won a Grand Slam."
Murray has been in the news a number of times since late stages of the U.S. Open, most often as a disgruntled employee and ATP spear carrier. It all seems to have started with the conflicts and discontents created by the way U.S. Open officials handled the rain delays that marred the tournament. I guess he took to this new role as labor-relations firebrand, for in successive days he revealed that he'd be interested in helping create a new player's union (the ATP can hardly call itself that anymore, given that it is in partnership with the tournaments), asserted that he wants more money if the U.S. Open expands to 15 days (the way the French Open has), and he's complained about the number of mandatory tournaments a top player must must enter.
Murray has become the go-to guy for a quote about how unhappy and disadvantaged the top tennis players are behind that veneer of prosperity, good health, and a lifestyle in which your bed is made every day by someone else, a chauffeured car is at your disposal for any and every purpose, and all your meals are served by others.
I took special note of some remarks Murray made to reporters after leading Great Britain to a zonal Davis Cup win over Hungary. Murray took advantage of the occasion to whinge about the number—and quality—of the mandatory events the pros must play (four Grand Slams, eight Masters events, plus the ATP World Your Finals in the event you're one of the eight qualifiers). All in, that amounts to about 18 weeks of actual playing time. The rest of the time, the players are free to play Davis Cup, rest, practice—or chase dollars in smaller, non-mandatory events, like the ATP 250s, at which the promoters are free to recruit top players with enormous cash appearance fees.
Although he doesn't like the work load, don't for a moment think that Murray is in favor of cutting back those tempting 250s and (presumably) exhibitions. As he said, in what seems an awkward attempt to explain why so many players play far more than those required 18 weeks: "When we play the Masters Series and the Slams, we're playing against the best players in the world every time. Sometimes it's nice to go to a tournament when you don't have to kill yourself in every single match."
Yup, Andy. And some of us also think it would be nice if we could go to a job where we don't have to "kill ourselves," but end up getting paid something like $30,000 per day for a week.
Query on Querrey
In case you were wondering what's become of Sam Querrey, he's finally back in action after elbow surgery (he sustained the injury during Queen's Club last year) and then a freakish bout with, of all things, an umbilical cord infection. That one whacked him just over two weeks ago, and set him back even further.
But Ravi Ubha of ESPN tells us that Querrey finally seems fit again; last week, in his first event back, he lost in the semifinals of the Tulsa Challenger to Michael McClune. At No. 116, Querrey is outside the cut-off for Grand Slam events, but he hopes to build his ranking back to at least direct-acceptance level by the end of the year. For starters, he's entered in five tournaments in the upcoming six weeks, and is anxious to get back into the fray.
At his best, Querrey was ranked No. 21 in the world (he won four tournaments in 2010, including Queen's Club, and made the fourth round at two majors); he was right up there among American players with Andy Roddick, John Isner, and Mardy Fish. Today, he's just the 10th best player from the U.S. But that could change quickly, if Querrey—whose dedication has sometimes been questioned—was serious when he told Ubha (you can read his in-depth piece here):
"Now I'm hungrier than ever. When you don't play a tournament or practice for a while, it lets you know how much you miss the sport, how much you love it."
Headlines We Love. . .
It's a toss-up this week.
Gasquet: Loss to Nadal Not the Worst Thing Ever. As the beaten French player Richard Gasquet pointed out, the eruption of Krakatoa, Hurricane Katrina, the Gulf BP oil spill and World War II—all of them, and probably a few other things, were worse than his loss to Rafael Nadal in last week's Davis Cup semifinal.
Djokovic: Back Injury Not Serious, May Marry Soon? That's right, heaven forbid Novak Djokovic contemplate getting married with a bad back, what with that mad dash for the limo amid the pelting rice, the ritual first dance, carrying blushing Jelena over the threshold and . . . never mind, you get the picture.
But Will They Still Give me a Wedgie?
Samantha Chang (no relation to Michael), the "Celebrity Fitness and Health Examiner," is posting an update on Nadal's status as the face (ahem) of Emporio Armani men's underwear, complete with a slide show. What's funny to me about the images is that in most of them Nadal looks like either, well, a woman, or like he's been spray-painted bronze or silver. It's all so fashion-forward I could almost puke, and whatever happened to salt-of-the-earth, boy-next-door Rafa? I mean, it's not like he needs the money to do this stuff, right?
Still Crazy (Like a Fox) After All These Years
Jimmy Connors is down in Florida to compete in a Champions Series event tonight, and I came across this video clip at the website of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel newspaper. The blog post promises that Connors "Examines the state of his sport," but it's really one of those "gotcha!" clips in which the reporter (columnist/blogger Mike Berardino) tries to nail Connors down on the motivation behind his on-court antics and emotional outbursts, and the impact they may have had on others.
Time was, Connors would have gone all purple in the face and threatened to punch Berardino for this transparent effort at entrapment. But Jimbo is a smooth dude these days, and wa-a-a-a-a-y too canny and experienced to wander into that trap. But it's still fascinating to hear Jimbo rationalize and justify his sometimes ugly and almost always vulgar and off-putting shenanigans. Has Connors ever given an interview in which, when the subject veered (as it inevitably does) to his unsportsmanlike conduct, he didn't invoke the name of the patron saint of all emotional maniacs, Ilie Nastase?
Muster Offically Retires. At 44.
The headline on our home page isn't quite accurate when it declares that Thomas Muster is retiring again. The former No. 1 and French Open champ never did announce that he retired, not on any of the many occasions when he might have. Muster has proved one of the most durable—and enthusiastic—of competitors through roughly 25 years in the pro game. The ultimate clay-court baseline grinder, Muster's most remarkable achievement was his unlikely comeback from an accident that almost cost him his left leg in 1989. The night before he was to play the final of Miami (as big a tournament then as it is now), he was hit by a drunk driver and his left knee was nearly destroyed. Yet in just six months he was back on the tour.
Muster rebounded to win numerous tournaments (including the Italian Open); in 1993, he won seven title (and made nine finals). He still shares the record for most titles in a single season (12) with Roger Federer. Muster abruptly and unceremoniously left the game in 1999, but he never formally retired. He married, moved to Australia, had a kid—and almost doubled in size.
Muster decided to give the ATP tour (note: not the Champions Series, or some comparable "senior" exercise) another shot in June of 2010, at age 43. To date, Muster has won exactly two matches in 18 events, most of them Challengers. Now he says his last tournament will be the ATP Vienna event in October—a tournament he first played 27 years ago, and one which he never won despite making three finals.
In a show of either amazing patience or pure delusion, Muster said of his past 18 months: “I’ve made good progress this year but my age is counting. I know what’s still possible if I put even more effort into it. But I have a family and also would get to my physical limits one day.”
Muster was never the most popular guy in either the locker room or the bleachers. But he will be remembered as the ultimate ironman—and inspirational figure for any aspiring pro.
 Do as I Say, Not as I Do
Lleyton Hewitt won the Sydney International, the struggling ATP event held the week before the Australian Open, four times. And in 2005, the year Hewitt made it to the final of his native Grand Slam (l. to Marat Safin), he also won the warm-up in Sydney. So it's only natural that he would talk up the benefits of playing the event—which is exactly what he's been hired to do. The target: the blue-chip Australian Open contenders who have been by-passing Sydney in favor of taking part in the Kooyong Classic, a lucrative exhibition in Melbourne (note to Murray: it's not mandatory. . .)
Hewitt's sales pitch might ring a little hollow, given that he also was among those lured away from Sydney to take part in the no-stress, big-money exo in preparation for the Australian Open.
But as any marketer can tell you, the idea is to turn a theoretical disadvantage into a plus, so Hewitt is on the record as saying that something was "missing" from his preparation for the Australian Open this year, when he opted to play the exo instead of Sydney this year—the implication being that the decision may have had something to do with Hewitt's first-round loss in Melbourne's major.
Of course, Hewitt's age (he was a month shy of his 30th birthday), ranking (No. 54) and quality opponent (David Nalbandian) may have had something to do with that loss, too. But not everyone needs to know that.
The truth is that Hewitt has been faithful to the Sydney tournament for most of his career, so perhaps his pitch to fence-sitters, especially potential contenders for the Melbourne title, might still seem credible.
 by Pete Bodo
Now and then, you get a great example for why something is—or isn't—a good idea. It's especially valuable when we get a little itchy and want to mess with the status quo. There's always someone out there who wants to revamp this or revise that, change the rules, format or terms of engagement that obtain in tennis.
One of the more frequent calls for "reform" comes from those who would like to see all men's tennis played out in a best-of-three format.
Has there ever been a better example of the superiority and ultimate credibility of best-of-five tennis than the most recent U.S. Open final, won by Novak Djokovic in a match that didn't even go to that five-set limit (6-2, 6-4, 6-7, 6-1)? Does anyone doubt that while the result in a best-of-three would have been the same, the match would have been a total bore and terribly misleading about the basic quality and character of the two players—of the level of competition to which each man aspires, successfully, most of the time?
Granted, knowing that you're playing a best-of-three match could potentially affect the flow of the match—that is, Nadal might have felt a more urgent need to stay in the hunt if the U.S. Open final were a three-setter, max, and therefore might have found a way to mount stiffer resistance in the second set. But that's a very big maybe and at the end of the day it hardly matters. What is significant is that Djokovic couldn't get away with a fast, easy, somewhat misleading blowout—he was forced by the format to perform due diligence and give Nadal a reasonable period of time in which to get his game together. This begs the question, what is "reasonable?"
And that's my whole point. Best-of-seven would not be reasonable, nor is best-of-three. Best of five hits the perfect medium between tennis under- and over-kill. A best-of-five match can be as short as a three-setter, finishing in under two hours, or as long as five-plus hours. The Djokovic-Nadal match was 4:10 in duration, but keep in mind that players more inclined to get on with things could have come in with a similar score in maybe 3:45.
It's often said that the advantage of best-of-five is that it makes it more likely that the better player will win, and I guess that's true. But to me the beauty of the five-set format is that it's essentially one big insurance policy against an aberrant score made possible by an hour or so of streaky play—a run "in the zone" of which almost any pro-level player easily is capable. It's harder to stay in that zone over the course of three to five sets.
At the same time, though, a clash featuring two particularly well-matched players, whether it's a matter of comparable talent and/or ranking, or comparable "on any given day" form, can become an epic with a richer subtext than any three-set battle. A five-setter that's close from the start almost always becomes an emotional and mental trial by fire. Few three-setters ever achieve that degree of competitive grandeur.
In any event, one of the great thing about five setters is that we don't have all that many of them (just as we don't have too many occasions to file insurance claims). At the U.S. Open, in the past 25 years, we've witnessed only three five-set finals, most recently Juan Martin del Potro's conquest of Roger Federer in the 2009 final. You have to go all the way back to 1999 for the next one (Andre Agassi d. Todd Martin). Before that, we had that masterful Mats Wilander win over Ivan Lendl in 1988 (it's still my favorite all-time match).
At the Australian Open, we've witnessed just three five-set finals since 1986, with Pat Cash coming up on the losing end of two of them—in back-to-back years, no less. In 1987 it was Stefan Edberg who took him down, 6-3 in the decider. The following year, Edberg's countryman Wilander did the honors in one of the best Aussie finals ever (Wilander won it 8-6 in the fifth). The only other five-setter in a quarter-of-a-century in Melbourne was Rafael Nadal's win over Federer in 2009 (note that Federer lost two Grand Slam finals in five-set matches that year).
The French Open has kicked out a quintet of five-set finals since 1986, starting with Michael Chang's 1988 win over Edberg. Jim Courier won an epic (d. Agassi, 1991) and lost one in 1993 to Sergi Bruguera. Six years later, Andre Agassi won a five-set final (d. Andrei Medvedev). The last five-set final at Roland Garros was Gaston Gaudio's stunning and barely credible upset of Guillermo Coria in 2004.
Wimbledon—as you might expect because of the difficulty entailed in breaking serve—has produced the most five-setters in the same period: seven, including three in a row starting in 2007. The first two were between Federer and Nadal (they split) and in the third, Federer broke Andy Roddick's heart, 16-14 in the fifth. Goran Ivanisevic's charmed run in 2001 ended in a glorious five-set win over Pat Rafter, which was especially gratifying for the Croat. He had previously lost two five-set finals on the greensward, one to Pete Sampras in 1998 and one to Andre Agassi in 1992. Before that, Edberg won a five-set final with Becker in 1990.
The number of five-setters that rank among the most memorable moments in tennis history is striking.
Another wonderful thing about five setters is that while any match in that format can go the distance, the overwhelming number of them do not—not even in finals between great players. In fact, out of the 127 matches played at the U.S. Open this year, only 18 went the distance, and a whopping eleven of those were played in the first round.
The other stronghold of five-set tennis is Davis Cup, and just this past weekend we saw Mikhail Youzhny come up big for Russia in a World Group Playoff round battle. Desperate to stave off elimination (and thus relegation) in the fourth rubber with Russia down 2-1, Youzhny outlasted Thomaz Bellucci 14-12 in the fifth to keep Russia's hopes alive (Dmitry Tursunov then clinched the tie for Russia in a four-setter over Ricardo Mello).
Vasek Pospisil was the hero for Canada in the playoff round. Opening the tie against Dudi Sela of Israel, Pospisilwon a five-setter—then, after Milos Raonic was upset, Pospisil clinched for Canada with a three-set win in the fifth rubber.
The only other five-setter in World Group Playoffs action was Stanislas Wawrinka's clincher for Switzerland against Australia's Lleyton Hewitt. Wawrinka won it, 6-3 in the fifth.
All in all, I wouldn't necessarily want to see more five-set battles, but I'm glad we have the ones we do, and welcome the greatest value of the five-set format: It keeps everyone honest.
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