Every major overflows. After two weeks of tennis, seemingly unforgettable moments from earlier in the tournament teeter on the edge of oblivion. Remember the Hewitt-Baghdatis five-setter? The one that ended at 4:30 in the morning? It’s been wiped away, at least in my mind, in a blur of Jo-Wilfried Tsonga forehand winners and Novak Djokovic chest thumps, and won’t be heard from again until tennis journalists make up their year-end Top 10 lists.
In Melbourne this year, we started out debating court speed and late-night starting times, but we finished with two logical, acceptable champions, and a potentially galvanizing new star. So I’m going to forego the tournament wrap-up this time and stick with the two guys who played the best tennis these last 14 days.
To start, Djokovic’s breakthrough should have been a surprise to no one, even though he's only 20 years old. The Serb, with his customary matter-of-fact self-assurance, even said in his victory speech that he was happy that his “first” major came in Australia. The implication is that there will be many more, and they won't just happen in Oz.
He won with his strong point: all-around competence. Djokovic didn’t offer us anything we didn’t already know about his game, but the slow surface gave him a chance to show off his defense like never before. Few players counterpunch their way back into points as aggressively as he does; he runs forward and into hard-hit shots, turning the tables from there. I felt like Djokovic’s backhand was the key in the last two matches. It gave him another attacking option, but a safe one. Both Federer and Tsonga, who relied more heavily on the forehand, went for broke and missed on numerous occasions with it.
Djokovic also won efficiently. He lost only one set, on a miraculous running topspin lob by Tsonga in the final. He vanquished Roger Federer by playing the important points more confidently and serving more effectively than a 12-time Slam champ. And he wore down Tsonga in the final by not making careless errors. Unlike the Frenchman, when Djokovic gained the advantage in a point, he made no mistake with it. In the fourth-set tiebreaker, with his opponent surging, Djokovic didn’t commit a single unforced error, while Tsonga made three and threw in a double fault. After all the running, slugging, jumping, and fist-pumping between these two guys, that mundane fact decided the tournament.
The win was the first at a Slam by someone other than Federer or Rafael Nadal in three years. The crowd was giddy from the start and the match felt fresh, even from the perspective of a TV viewer. It was frankly a relief not to have to hear the announcers try to come up with new and ever-more-grandiose ways to describe Federer’s play. As good as Djokovic is, he remains human for the moment. He showed a lot of that humanity in the final. The man who has worked for the crowd’s love in the past suddenly couldn’t get any of it from the Aussies, who were enamored with the more unlikely—and therefore hipper—Tsonga. Djokovic was thrown off for a full set because his family was involved in an altercation with a group of nearby Tsonga supporters. That’s the downside of making your support group such a big part of your performance. Djokovic's family really does function like a team, which is touching; but it’s also dangerous in an individual sport where you have to isolate yourself to play your best.
As a fan, I’ve enjoyed the wacky Djokovic clan so far—their brazen cheesiness was refreshing on Sunday after the long, entitled reign of that sphinx of the sidelines, Mirka. But how will we feel about Srdjan and company as Djokovic continues to ascend? On Sunday we saw Djokovic as a future king of the sport for the first time, rather than an up-and-coming, attention-seeking class clown. Here’s a guess: His crew’s coordinated shirts and relentless cheerleading—not to mention his own “Yes, I have heart, it’s located here!” chest thumps—are going to wear extremely thin if Djokovic begins to dominate the sport. But we’re not there yet, and we should forgive him his over-the-top excitement this time. He certainly went a long way to charming his enemies in the audience with his victory speech. “I know you wanted him to win. But that’s OK, I still love you guys.” Those are the gracious and honest words of a future king, not an obnoxious attention seeker, and I thought it was one of the highlights of the tournament.
Which leads to a final question: What does his win Down Under mean for men’s tennis? After the final, I had a sense that the days of Federer’s easy dominance were suddenly over. That’s just a feeling, of course; only time will tell, and all predictions are useless. I’m not saying the guard has changed after one match, but Djokovic is also too good to say that this was merely a one-day occurrence. Federer remains the man to beat, but Djokovic just took a big step toward making that a two-man position.
Djokovic will be in Federer’s head the next time they meet. It will be up to Federer to get him out. Until now, I don’t think he’s considered, or wanted to consider, Djokovic as a full-time rival—that spot has been reserved for Nadal in his mind. I don’t get the feeling Federer was fully prepared, from a mental standpoint, to engage in total war against the Serb in Melbourne. That should change when we get to Indian Wells and Key Biscayne, two places that have brought out the best in both guys in the past.
Now what about Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, the man who single-handedly called to mind two American sports legends, one with his name (as in Jo Willie Namath) and one with his face (as in Cassius Clay), and who was the phenomenon of the event? Is he for real?
For obvious reasons, the player I think of first is Marcos Baghdatis. Like Tsonga this year, at the 2006 Open the Cypriot came out of nowhere to reach the final, win the first set 7-5, and lose the next three. The two players also faced off in the U.S. Open junior final a few years ago (Tsonga won). Again, predictions are useless, especially with someone who has been so hit-and-miss in the past, but right now Tsonga appears to have more upside than Baghdatis. He can go off form at times, but the Frenchman wasn’t flaky or faint-hearted at any point over the last two weeks. Put that together with all the athleticism and hitting ability and . . . well, we’ll see.
I’ve never seen a pro play as straight up and down as Tsonga. He barely bends his body during his ground strokes. The effect is one of utter relaxation; the paradoxical result is more racquet-head speed, more pop on the ball, and a high strike zone, which makes taking the ball on the rise a no-brainer. Tsonga also distinguishes himself from his fellow young French rivals, Gasquet and Monfils, with his ability to move forward and take the ball early. He doesn’t camp out behind the baseline and rally passively, which makes for better entertainment. The downside became visible as Tsonga got tired in the final. His relaxed stance and footwork left him out of position as the rallies wore on. He was no longer getting to the ball in time to take it early and dictate play.
Tsonga has seemed too one-dimensional and erratic to me in the past. He bombed out of the U.S. Open last year to Nadal in an unsightly straight-setter. This makes me think he can be distracted and adversely affected by surrounding conditions, expecially wind and noise. Tsonga’s other trouble has been his fitness, and it cost him over the last two sets on Sunday. Otherwise, his attitude in Melbourne was the right one. As relaxed as he appeared to be during points, he maintained that attitude between them. Like Cassius and Jo Willie, Tsonga looks and acts like a star who loves to be at the center of the arena.
If, after two weeks, the Aussie Open has given us a new challenger for No. 1 and a new charismatic athlete, that’s more than enough to remember, and a very promising start to the year.
