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W: Semifinal Preview
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Posted 07/01/2009 @ 6 :53 PM |
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Let me begin by saying that the question I was
asked most frequently when I returned from London had nothing to do with Wimbledon, or tennis,
or England, or Michael Jackson. It was: “How was your flight? I hope it was better than the one you
had going over there.” The return trip was much smoother, just so you know,
though I was surrounded by a class of high school students, mostly girls, from
Dayton, Ohio, who I can only assume hadn’t descended through many bumpy banks of
clouds before. Each time the plane lost altitude and began to float downward during our landing,
they shrieked, hugged each other, and then broke apart in spastic
giggles—“Dude, we're going to die!” the girl next to me happily squealed to her
friend. It was better than Space Mountain.
Seeing Wimbledon on TV after a week of seeing it with my own
eyes, I had the same thought that I’d had when I came home last year: It
might be better in HD than it is live. You get the same sunlight, but it’s
concentrated and made more comprehensible—meaningful—inside the TV’s rectangle, and you get
closer to the players. One close-up this morning showed the texture of Serena
Williams’ hair in more detail than I’ve ever seen it in person. It seemed to be
within touching distance.
Live or on TV, Wimbledon received its best match of 2009
from Lleyton Hewitt and Andy Roddick today. They rallied and rallied and
rallied some more, but the quality was high enough and the score close enough
to keep it from ever sinking into the mundane, even over five long sets and
numerous multi-deuce games. Hewitt, after playing his finest tournament in
years, dug himself too deep a hole when he suffered a brief brain
camp in the third-set tiebreaker. It was one of the few bad patches of play all
afternoon, but it was enough.
With that, the semifinals of Wimbledon are set. What do they
hold in store for us?
Elena Dementieva vs. Serena Williams
I know what you’re thinking: Is Elena Dementieve really
still in this tournament? I don’t think I’ve seen one point of hers so far, but
give her credit: She took an easy draw and didn’t blow it.
If you think Dementieva’s cause is hopeless against Serena
Williams, who played a very determined, quality match to beat Victoria Azarenka
in the quarterfinals, you’re probably right. Serena beat her in a routine
straight-setter the last time they met in a Slam semi, in Melbourne in January,
and the American appears to want another crack at her sister in a Wimbledon
final as much as she’s wanted anything on a tennis court in recent years.
Before Australia, however, Dementieva had won three straight over Serena, including a big one at the Olympics in Beijing. The
Russian thrives on pace, and Serena certainly brings that. Still, I liked Williams’ form, and focus, in the quarters. She doesn’t often lose that once
she’s got it at a major.
Winner: S. Williams
Dinara Safina vs. Venus Williams
Serena’s big sister follows her onto the court for the
second match, having looked almost as sharp as her sibling this week—neither sister has dropped a set at Wimbledon so far. Her opponent, Safina, has
dropped plenty, having struggled her way back from one-set deficits against
Amelie Mauresmo and Sabine Lisicki.
Williams and Safina have only played three times over the
years—how is that possible?—with the American winning twice. The Russian snuck
out a three-setter the last time they played, but that was on clay, Safina’s
best surface. This is, as we all know, Venus’ best surface. Like her sister,
she gets better as the matches get bigger. How can Safina spoil the
seemingly inevitable Williams final feud? I would say that she should try to
give Venus no rhythm by mixing up spins and paces, but that really isn’t her
specialty. So Safina is going to have to bomb away heavy and deep from the
baseline, take charge of points with her return when possible, and not hurt
herself with her serve. What are the chances that it will be enough?
Winner: V. Williams
Roger Federer vs. Tommy Haas
There’s always been a little resentment from Tommy Haas over Roger Federer’s outrageous success. The German beat him in two of their first three
matches, including a five-setter in Melbourne way back in 2002. For years, Haas must have thought of Federer as another guy of similar talents,
not someone who was going to win 14 Grand Slams, while he never even reached a
major final. The upshot is that Haas has never bowed to Federer,
never put him on a pedestal, never considered him unbeatable. As we all
remember, he was just a point away from serving for a straight-set win over him
in Paris last month.
Haas is playing even better now. He showed off some frankly
beautiful all-court tennis today in beating Novak Djokovic, and proved that a
competent transition game and vintage volley technique can still make the difference on grass. Haas, naturally, tried his best to lose his concentration and fold when he served for a two-set lead, but
he uncharacteristically gathered himself a few minutes later and saved three
set points in the ensuing tiebreaker. He sealed the set with a fabulous
approach and stretch volley winner of a sharp Djokovic pass.
You might say Haas has nothing to lose against Federer, but
that’s only true until he gets a lead. It isn’t that he can’t close the deal
against his old rival; it’s that Federer has looked just as bulletproof at
Wimbledon as he did at the French. Soderling threw the kitchen sink at him in
the fourth round, and he came up with all the right responses when he needed
them. I’m looking forward to seeing Haas do the same, by coming to the net at every plausible opportunity. And I’m betting that Federer, while surrendering a set, finds a way—with stab returns at his opponent’s feet, with
clutch serves during tiebreakers, with a killer forehand pass on his only break
point of the set—to end the 31-year-old Haas’ Indian Spring.
Winner: Federer
Andy Roddick vs. Andy Murray
From the start, even when Murray was a scraggly
whippersnapper, his crafty game gave Roddick fits. The Scot beat him in their
first two meetings, in 2006, the second of which happened at Wimbledon. And
he’s beaten in their last three meetings, including a straight-setter early
this year in Doha.
Does Roddick have a chance against the hometown favorite? He
is a steadier and more patient player than he has been in the past, but he also
did a lot more work in his quarterfinal, taking five sets to oust Hewitt while
Murray terminated JC Ferrero in straights. Murray has borne the pressure well;
only in his match against Wawrinka did he appear to be pressing, particularly
on his forehand. Roddick will be the guy with nothing to lose, and his serve
has been more effective than ever over this fortnight—why is he suddenly acing people left
and right? For his part, Murray will have to banish all thoughts of the final, of the Queen in the royal box, of a chance at immortality. That will have to affect his psyche, won't it? Just a little? Maybe?
Steadier or not, 30 aces or not, Roddick has fewer ways to win
points than the Man Who Might Be King. The Yank has to serve lights out—which
won’t be easy against Murray, who puts a racquet on more serves than just about
anyone else—and take his chances in tiebreakers. I'll bet he almost pulls it
off.
Winner: Murray
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W: Sweet 16
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Posted 06/28/2009 @ 7 :00 AM |
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Each evening at Wimbedon, one of the young women who work in
the pressroom winds through the rows of reporters and asks if you’d like a copy
of the Order of Play. I’ve never seen anyone turn it down. In the midst of the
chaos of keeping your eye on half a dozen results, typing furiously, and
trying to pretend your stomach isn’t angry at you, having a clean
slate of new and unspoiled matches to anticipate and ponder is a welcome distraction. Plus,
there’s that Wimbledon touch at the very top:
The Championships 2009
Intended Order of Play for Monday 29 June 2009
COMPLETE
So reassuring and official, that COMPLETE. From there, we all sit
back and blurt out incredulous and borderline-pointless comments—“Poor Dinara, Court 2 again”; “Wow,
Djokovic on Court 3 and Hewitt on Court 2!—to no one in particular. Then,
unfortunately, it’s back to dealing with the unfinished article in front of us.
The middle Saturday of Wimbledon offers an especially momentous Order of Play. Here were are shown how all 16
fourth-round matches will play out on Monday, one of the busiest days (outside
of first rounds) in tennis.
For today, that sacred parchment—it’s just a piece of white
paper, but we can pretend—will serve as our way into the second week. Here’s a
preview of what we might see on Monday, working from the outer courts in.
Court 18
Agnieszka Radwanska vs. Melanie Oudin
This is not unwinnable for U.S.-hope-of-the-nanosecond
Oudin. Radwanska will give her a chance to hit her shots. Will enough of them
go in, or will the crafty Pole push her just far enough out of position to keep her
from getting a good look. Pick: Oudin
Virginie Razzano vs. Francesca Schiavone
Razzano has been on a tear, relatively speaking, but I like
Schiavone’s heavy strokes more. They’re safer, without being soft. Pick: Schiavone
Court 4
Igor Andreev vs. Tommy Haas
This is a battle of European veterans on an intimate and
picturesque side court. Andreev has more
firepower with his forehand, but Haas looked more motivated and proactive
against Cilic—as if he wanted to wipe the memory of his five-set defeat to Roger Federer in Paris out of his memory with a win—than he has in years. The old-timer is on the
verge of becoming a story again. Pick: Haas
Caroline Wozniacki vs. Sabine Lisicki
The two teens are 1-1, with Lisicki winning their last
match, in the final in Charleston on clay. The German is the bigger hitter, but
she’s also rawer than the unflashy but poised Woz. Pick: Wozniacki (in three)
Court 3
Victoria Azarenka vs. Nadia Petrova
The Graveyard begins with an intriguing and hard-to-figure matchup between young and (somewhat) old. Petrova is the more powerful athlete,
but Azarenka has looked typically relentless so far. The question may be: Who can get
their serve in if they get a lead? Pick: Azarenka
Dudi Sela vs. Novak Djokovic
The last time Djokovic was shunted to a small show court was
against Philipp Kohlscheiber in Paris. Hopefully for him, he won’t let the snub
bother him—he does like being the man, after all. Sela is a tough out, but
Djokovic seemed very happy with his performance in the last round. I’ll talk his word for
it. Pick: Djokovic
Juan Carlos Ferrero vs. Gilles Simon
I’ve been waiting to write something good about Simon for months, but he keeps disappearing before I get the chance. The smooth-moving
French always thrive on grass, and Simon may have finally found his bearings
after a poor season. This has the makings of a long, but enjoyable affair. I’ll
take the younger guy. Pick: Simon
Court 2
Elena Vesnina va. Elena Dementieva
I’ve been at Wimbledon for a week, and this is the first I’ve
heard os seen Vesnina’s name. Dementieva is making the most of her soft section. Pick:
Dementieva
Daniela Hantuchova vs. Serena Williams
I remember watching these two play at the Open a
few years ago and thinking that I’d never seen a greater disparity in power and
physicality on a tennis court. Serena can go off, and she can be upset, but not
by Hantuchova. Pick: Williams
LLeyton Hewitt vs. Radek Stepanek
Hewitt appears to be the Safin of 2009. Stepanek gets
under your skin and forces you to make shots to beat him, but Hewitt has been
making all the shots so far. He also hasn’t played a ridiculous amount of
tennis over the first week. Pick: Hewitt
Court 1
Venus Williams vs. Ana Ivanovic
The AELTC has given Ana a shot by taking Venus off of
Centre Court, where she’s won something like 30 sets in a row. And Ivanovic,
after a very shaky start, has found her range in the second set in the last two
matches. But it won’t be enough to dislodge Venus in the second week. Pick:
Williams
Fernando Verdasco vs. Ivo Karlovic
Ivo the Terrible is back to destroy tennis after a
series of Wimbledon disasters. I’ll make a guess: Dr. Ace vs. Mr. Sauce will come
down to the tiebreakers. Karlovic won their last meeting, on grass at
Nottingham last year, 10-8 in a third set breaker. I’m seeing a repeat. Pick:
Karlovic
Tomas Berdych vs. Andy Roddick
This will be interesting. These huge servers are 2-2 against
each other, with Berdych having won the last time, on hard courts, in a third-set
tiebreaker. The Czech is more dangerous all around, but Roddick has the better
day-to-day head on his shoulders. It will be tricky for him; he may have
to weather an early storm and find a way to keep it going long enough for Berdych to self-destruct. Pick: Roddick
Centre Court
Robin Soderling vs. Roger Federer
The big court plays out as it has all week: Federer early, Murray
late. Some British writers are worried that this will give Federer an advantage
if they meet in the final. I’m not clear on why. Either way, he’ll have to survive
the Sod first. Federer has been sharp for the most part so far, but I get the
feeling Soderling will scare him Monday. The Swede has gotten better with each match and shaken off any possible letdown he may have felt after the French. He also has nothing to lose after
taking his lumps in the final there; at the very least want he'll want to improve on that
result. And now he knows that if he gets hot, anything can happen—he has the
map to the big upset. But Federer, with a 10-0 head to head, has the map to
beating Soderling. Pick: Federer
Dinara Safina va. Amelie Mauresmo
The world No. 1 makes her Centre Court debut against the
2006 champion. This seems like the perfect time for one more return to glory on
the lawns for the Frenchwoman. She’s 4-2 against Safina, and almost beat her
the last time they played, in 2008 on hard courts. Pick: Mauresmo
Andy Murray vs. Stanislas Wawrinka
The BBC gets its late-afternoon Murray mania again. More than
Federer, he has been flawless thus far. Stan beat Murray as recently as last
year on clay, but the Scot mowed him down in straights at the U.S. Open. The low-key Wawrinka has never been at his best on the big Slam
stage. This is the biggest of them all. Pick: Murray
That’s it, I’m going sneaker shopping. Thanks everyone for reading. I would have commented back, but Typepad had it in for me this
week. Enjoy Monday at Wimbledon; I’ll join you on DVR back in New York. ESPN,
NBC—so much better than actually being there, I’m sure.
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W: Totally American
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Posted 06/27/2009 @ 4 :03 PM |
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Time is running out on my Wimbledon. That’s a bit of an
understatement, to be honest. This is my last day here, but I didn’t want to
have to come out and say it.
What have I not gotten enough of this week? Tennis matches,
of all things. I kept unintentionally trapping myself in the
pressroom, wracking my brain to find the very best way to describe a down-the-line
backhand or a crosscourt forehand. “Drilled the ball,” “hammered the ball,” “smoked it”: What should it be?
Anyway, I vowed to make up for it today by getting out on
the grounds and moving around as much as possible. Plus, it's Saturday. It's un-American not to get away from the office.
1:15: Court 3
Naturally, the first place I go I’m confronted with a bona
fide story—so much for the rambling for the moment. I’m in my seat just behind
the court here for all of five minutes and I’m pouring sweat. The humidity has
been peaking here for a couple days without any breaks for rain. Jelena Jankovic
looks suitably sluggish, so much so that her opponent, Melanie Oudin, a
17-year-old from Georgia (yes, the one in the U.S.), looks like she’s running
circles around her.
Oudin is, in the parlance of the sportswriter, a prototypical
“spark plug.” She’s strong and squat, 5-foot-6 on her tip-toes. She’s also a
prototypical low-to the ground baseliner, with an extremely clean and reliable crosscourt two-handed backhand that she can also slap down the line for winners.
Her forehand is more of a rally shot than a point-ending weapon; she uses
something more conservative than a Western grip on it, which makes it hard for her to
come over the ball. But give her something high and she extends through it
smoothly.
Not surprisingly, Oudin’s serve is her weak spot. She
doesn’t get up for it, settling for middling slices instead. Her strong point?
On the evidence in front of me today, I’d say it’s her head: She’s patient,
she’s smart, and, it goes without saying for a successful young woman player,
she’s a fighter.
Oudin is willing to take a hand off the racquet and take pace off
the ball with a backhand slice, even though it can float on her. She pushed
that shot down the line and got it to bounce away from Jankovic’s forehand, a
tricky shot to handle. The American has the hands to hit a very finely gauged drop shot with her
backhand, and when she gets a forehand in the middle of the court, she can flatten
it out for winners. Primarily, though, she’s a grind, and very patient, both in her shot
selection and the way she stays with each ball rather than rushing her stroke
when she’s going for something big.
The combination eventually left Jankovic bamboozled. Oudin
could have won in straights—she had four set points in the first but lost it
in a tiebreaker—but she never looked even remotely down on herself. Oudin
always seemed to be thinking out there, and in the third set it all came together.
She won going away, belting bigger and bigger down the line backhands even as
she got closer to the most important win of her career.
The young WTA names to watch at the start of the week were
Robson and Larcher de Brito. They’re long gone, while Oudin, an unheralded qualifier,
is in the fourth round. She was a little incredulous about it herself in her
press conference, which she attended wearing hoop earrings and a glittery
headband. She was ready for prime time, and she answered all questions as directly as anyone could hope. Asked if she had blocked out the fact that she was playing
at Wimbledon, Oudin jumped right in, American teen style:
“I mean, I go into every match the exact same, you know, like
no matter who I play. It’s not like, Oh my gosh, I’m playing the No. 1 player
in the world. It all depends on what game I play and what shots I hit and that
stuff.”
Oudin’s goal for the tournament was to qualify, but doing that gave her a further confidence boost. She has a twin sister,
Katherine, who plays junior tennis and who went to high school. Melanie was
home schooled, and like all of us, made it her lifelong goal as a kid to become
No. 1 in the world. Her grandmother was the tennis inspiration in the family.
Oudin (ew-DAN) is a French name, and a couple of the country’s
journalists attended her press
conference. Told that they were trying to claim her as one of their own, she
burst out laughing.
“Yes, my last name is French. But I’m totally American for
sure.” We knew that, but it was still nice for a U.S. tennis writer to hear.
3:00: Court 1
The match of the tournament thus far has been Tommy Haas and
Marin Cilic, which was suspended last night at 6-6 in the fifth. When play resumes,
Haas comes out serving and volleying, which seems to be a smart tactic, a way
of forcing himself to be aggressive in this shortened time period. It works to start, but when he serves for the match, he loses two points at the net. Now serving and volleying looks tactically reckless—what are you thinking, Tommy? Moral: It’s all in the execution. But
Haas gathers himself to serve it out. The man who is on his fourth of fifth tennis
career, and is enjoying a very belated renaissance, faces Igor Andreev next.
After that, he’d have a shot at getting Novak Djokovic, whom he beat last week.
4:00: Court 4
Is there another American dream about to come true? Jesse
Levine has won the first set over Stan Wawrinka and is up a break in the
second, but the Swiss is in the process of finding his range. Everything turns
in a second as Wawrinka asserts his more versatile shot-making. Levine has come down to earth, and he’s not happy about it. As I’m
leaving, he spits at a spot on the grass where he thought he got a bad bounce. From
Oudin’s joy to Levine’s bitter frustration, Wimbledon is nothing if not a living exhibit of emotional extremes.
5:00: Court 1
Sabine Lisicki hits a long and heavy ball, and she’s had
Svetlana Kuznetsova on her heels and spraying balls wide all day. But when it
comes time to serve it out, for a seemingly routine 6-2, 6-3 win, Lisicki double faults to start the game. She’s broken, and over the
next few games she squanders four match points. When Kuznetsova sprays another one
wide on the fifth and it’s finally over, Lisicki is overcome. She pulls
her visor down over her eyes—she can’t believe what they see, a win over the
French Open champion, the biggest of her career. Everywhere you
go, there are people going to extremes around here.
6:00: Centre Court
Like Tim Henman's back in the day, an
Andy Murray match here has started to seem like a world event. Murray, so normal and wiry and unprepossessing as he walks into a jammed Centre Court, looks like
he could be crushed under the weight of the stadium and the invisible
expectations that swirl through it.
Murray doesn’t crumble. Instead, he is quietly braced by the
atmosphere in the building. He says, in his plain and understated monotone, that
the home crowd “helps him focus on the important points.” The stadium doesn’t
veer as wildly between joy and trepidation as it did with Henman, because Murray has been in total control of the situation over the
first week.
As he did against Ernests Gulbis on Thursday, Murray jumps
out to an early lead over Victor Troicki, which gives him the confidence to begin
carving up the court with his various changes of pace. The defensive forehand
slice has become a staple of his arsenal, and while it doesn’t look like
much, it’s tough to hit it past Murray, who can guard the entire baseline from
his position of deep retreat.
The match is over in a hurry, but watching Murray hit a
vicious side spinning backhand and follow it to net for a touch volley, I find time to ask: Is he the first player with
a two-handed backhand to play like he has a one-hander? One thing I do know: The guy has grown up fast.
8:00: Centre Court
The roof has been closed as I’ve been speaking here, though no one is
playing. It’s beautiful at
first sight, and there's a sense of fun among the fans who stay and take photos of each other in what appears to everyone to be a brand new arena. Its historical and seemingly God-given atmosphere has been completely altered with one cosmetic change. “Is this Wimbledon?”
is the question in everyone’s eyes.
The surface is brighter under the lights than it is much of
the time under clouds, and the roof is held by triangular girders that descend
surprisingly low. Knowing Wimbledon’s thoroughness, I can only assume they’re
elevated enough to allow for a toweringly high desperation lob. You can take
the rain out of tennis, but not the desperation.
What else will be lost with the roof? The sky, the clouds,
the sun, a connection with something larger than life, which Centre Court in
its old form, its form before today, seemed to be a part of. The old open
overhang didn’t have the power to blot out the sky, but it did have the
power to frame it. Maybe the best thing about the new roof is that we’ll
appreciate even more the way Centre Court looks when it’s not there.
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W: At the Crossroads
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Posted 06/27/2009 @ 7 :27 AM |
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The static air, the tube lighting, the faint background hum
of a thousand electrical outlets. By Thursday evening, there was no stopping
me, I had to get out of the press room. I walked out and past the
uniformed door monitors in navy-blue police caps that are too big for their
heads—“Can I see your badge, sir? Thank you, sir”—just as the sun was beginning to
disappear behind the media center. Its top half still sent a sharp ray into the
eye. The big events of the afternoon were over, and all that was left were a
few doubles teams fighting the encroaching darkness on the outer courts.
Another day that had started with bright promise had stumbled to a tired end under the weight of too many tennis matches. Wimbledon felt woozy.
I sat down on a bench near what you might call the crossroads
of the All England Club, a triangle bounded by Centre Court, the players’ area,
and the media center. This is where the beautiful people pass you as they bound
upstairs and out of sight, off to do whatever it is they do—sit and talk, as
far as I can tell.
Next to me were three women in their early 20s, with accents
that an American can only describe as “highly British.” They were
working in some capacity at the tournament and were out for a smoke break. All
three gazed up at the top of the TV centers, using their arms to shade their
eyes from the sun. A blonde guy in jeans, somewhere in his 40s, was talking and
gesturing into a camera. “He is hot, you’re right.”
“I told you he was famous.”
“Hm, maybe I can knock into him on his way down.”
“‘Excuse me, sirrr, I’m so sorry I spilled my coffee all
over you.’” They giggled.
I shaded my eyes and looked more closely at the handsome
bleach-blonde TV star. Pat Cash. Figures.
For a reporter who grew up playing and watching the sport,
this crossroads, which begins at your desk and ends at the press benches in the
Center Court, is as close as you get to the core of the tennis universe. I’ve
run this gauntlet many times trying to get to the seats before the end of a
changeover. It involves a lot of bobbing and weaving between players, agents,
officials, cigarette-smoking press types, and the various hangers-on that
constitute the sealed society Peter Bodo once referred to as “tennisworld”
before he created his own.
Who could be found traversing this rarefied location
Thursday evening? There were no more must-see matches left, so this was
rambling time for anyone still able to ramble. Fans, by the dozen, by the
hundred—young, old, male, female, parent, child—passed each other in both
directions in a constantly reforming mass. Every second someone went around a
corner out of sight; every second someone new came into the view:
A bald black man, in an all-white warm-up suit and white
sneakers.
A tan teenage girl with shoulder-length straight brown hair,
braces, orange shorts, and a blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. She had
the vicious ankle tan lines of a tennis player. She and a friend were throwing
their heads forward and back as they laughed at some unheard joke.
A black collar, up.
Brown sandals with rolled navy trousers
A pink and white rugby shirt
Two ball girls, in their dark blue uniforms, the brims of
their caps pulled over their eyes, leaning sleepily against a wall.
Andy Murray’s coach, Miles McLagan, his arms over the railing
on the second floor of beautiful people land, keeping an eye on a match
involving Andy Murray’s next opponent, Victor Troicki.
There were couple holding hands and parents being led by
their kids. There was an Asian reporter on another bench in gray slacks with her head down and
her legs curled around each other. There were linesmen
in their yachting outfits. There was a woman in a bright red dress and an older
couple in matching striped polo shirts studying the draw sheet together.
I looked for someone I could identify as a representative Wimbledon spectator. Hip young British types floated in and out—red-cheeked girls in sweaters, their straight
brown hair pinned to the side; young guys in shorts past their knees, white
shoes and no socks, with short spiky dyed hair—but they constituted maybe
one in every 100 people. The sheer volume and variety of humans
destroyed all attempts at categorization.
There was a dull buzz of talk all around, but only a stray
sentence or two made it over to where I was sitting. “Oh, please.”
“There’s more courts down there, should we try some of
those?”
“She texted me to say she was here."
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
“We couldn’t get into that court.”
“I think there’s some doubles left over here, ooh let’s go.”
Two women in their 50s took the place of the girls on the
next bench. Robert Kendrick walked by. “Oh, he played Murray,” one of the women said. They
stared. “Wow, he’s really nice.”
A blonde preppy character in a blue suit, red tie, and aviator
shades appeared to the left. The two women saw him coming. “Who’s this with the
big teeth,” one of them said in a voice of bottomless scorn. His teeth were big, and he was flashing them as much as possible.
On the whole, the fans at Wimbledon are a little scruffier
than those at the U.S. Open, and, reputation to the contrary, more varied—there
are suits, there are ties, there are jeans, there are baseball hats, there are even
bandannas. On the other hand, the employees are infinitely spiffier. The press
section is guarded zealously, not, as it is in Louis Armstrong Stadium, by retirees
from the Bronx in sweat-stained, oversized, untucked T-shirts, but by a female
usher in brown-and-red military regalia, complete with cap, tights, and shiny
black dress shoes. She stands with arms folded behind her back in front of the entrance.
“Did you make that your uniform yourself?” she was asked by
a tipsy-sounding American fan the other day.
“Excuse me?”
“Is that a Wimble-ton uniform, or do you just wear that?” He and his friend chuckled.
“It’s military, sir.” She told them to go to the back of the
line. She said please. They couldn’t think of anything to say and walked
away.
A few minutes later a short, pudgy, prosperous-looking and
overly tan British man in a bright striped shirt and an expensively cool
haircut walked up and leaned against the railing where the usher was standing.
“Sir, the line starts over here, can you please move over
here?” She gestured to the opposite railing from where he was loitering.
“I know where
it starts,” he belched back sarcastically, without moving an inch. The usher
sighed and shook her head.
Why do people come to tennis tournaments? Judging from the lost-looking,
ever-shifting mass in front of me, you can spend a lot of time not knowing
where the hell you’re going at one of these things. But you do see tennis balls
hit eventually, and you don’t have to be a technical expert to be blown away by
the perfection of the strokes that are on display a few feet in front of you.
In that way, the tour really is a traveling circus, an exotic troupe of
foreign freaks with science-fiction names who roll into town once a year and do
stunning tricks for your benefit. It would also be silly to ignore that there’s
a genteel sexiness to the display—athletic young people in white leap around on
picturesque green grass as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. There
are worse scenes to take in than that.
But I would say the tennis itself is mostly incidental.
Walking to the All England Club each morning this week, I was passed by dozens
of packed buses taking people to work. I kept thinking, “You’re going to work?”
Of course this is the normal run of people’s lives, and my life, but that’s
exactly what made it seem so dull. They were involved in their own
lives, while the people walking down the hill with me were going to
Wimbledon—an event.
In New York, the U.S. Open is an event. A ticket is a
Manhattan status symbol. Wimbledon is bigger, at least from my vantage point,
because it is an event for the nation. Snob appeal is undeniably a part of the
excitement, but attending also means taking your own small and personal path and
joining it to the world’s for an afternoon. You don’t have to know a forehand from a lob or Roger Federer from Roger Staubach to get
a buzz out of that. Many of the people walking in front of my bench weren’t sure where they
were going—“I think there are more courts over this way, come on”—but they were moving fast. They were enjoying the chase. This was their day away from the office and inside the gates, and they had to make the most of it. No matter how small the universe, it’s a fizzing, energizing pleasure to find yourself at the
center of one for a day. *** It's Saturday, the sun is back, and I feel like I haven't seen enough tennis this week. I'm hitting the grounds. Talk to you about it later.
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W: Sunny Afternoon with Roger
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Posted 06/26/2009 @ 2 :41 PM |
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It was a given that the story of the day would be the roof. Thunderstorms were in the forecast, and in the morning the All England Club slid its celebrated multimillion-dollar steel contraption across Centre Court. It may have been wishful thinking on their part. By the time a few of us walked over to check it out, the roof had been removed again. But the clouds continued to threaten, so I headed into the big stadium anyway. I'd never wished for a storm to hit at Wimbledon before.
That wasn't the only reason to hang around Centre Court today. Rain or shine, this was going to be my last chance to see Roger Federer play at this year’s Wimbledon. He hadn’t dropped a set in his first two matches, which had registered only in my peripheral vision on various TVs as I hustled from the courts to the interview room to my desk. Talking to a reporter in front of a flat-screen at the reception desk, I’d caught a glimpse of Federer flicking a backhand around the net for a winner. He seemed to have things under control, an observation that was confirmed when I ran into Federer’s agent, Tony Godsick, in Starbucks the other morning. Godsick said his man was “feeling good, no more pressure.” But then he would say that.
The sky stayed gray for much of the first two sets, something that always robs this arena of its highest level of intensity, no matter who's playing. There’s something a little ominous about Centre Court under clouds; grass needs sunlight, after all, and the vast green playing surface glows under it. Still, there was a new version of Federer to see. As 15-year-old Laura Robson, of all people, said in her Monday presser with a bewildered shrug of awe, the guy elevated himself still higher on the game's historical totem pole at the French Open.
Watching the first few games today made me wonder how, from his seat in the stands, Godsick could tell that Federer was more relaxed. His mannerisms—the ball-bounce between the legs; the racquet spin as he gets set to receive serve; the tap-without-looking of an unwanted ball to the ball kid before serving—have always been those of the nonchalant athlete.
In fact, I’d say Federer looked a little edgier than normal, especially for a match he was winning so routinely through the first two sets. That shouldn’t be surprising; agitation is a prerequisite for serious competition. The linesmen provided plenty of it for Federer today. After his second successful challenge, he stared at chair umpire Lars Graff and threw his hands up—“who are these people,” he seemed to be asking. He may have had reason to ask; Federer won his first three challenges. That may have made him cocky, or paranoid, or both, because he then challenged unsuccessfully four times and played most of the third-set tiebreaker without any left.
Centre Court has long been Federer’s house. He loves it here and is loved back. But this crowd felt different. It seemed to be at attention. There was history in the air. It’s become unofficially official—fans now come to see the Greatest of All Time. I was outside Centre Court when the match finished and was caught in a sea of people making their exit. There was no end to them. To find refuge, I walked back in to watch a little of Victoria Azarenka and Sorana Cirstea. Centre Court looked like a salad bowl that had been turned over, with a few isolated scraps of people remaining. The air really had gone out of the place.
Federer said in his press conference that he had played well. It felt like a spirited performance to me. On most courts his shots don’t make much of a sound, but here the echo gave them a pistol-like crack. From a tactical perspective, on many occasions, I'm not sure what Federer is doing to win points, and then I look up and he’s got two sets in hand. Today, from up close, I immediately noticed the reserved violence in his style. Federer begins a point in a deliberately relaxed state. He wants as little interference with his instincts as possible—the big toe on his back foot just grazes the grass as he sets up to serve. But to hit a forehand, he springs forward and snaps over the ball with viciously contained power. To hit a slice backhand, he makes his entire body, from the head down, a part of the shot even when he’s sending it delicately short.
Competitive violence channeled by classic technique. It's the tennis ideal, and what makes Federer so representative of the sport as a whole for so many people.
As I said during the French Open, that’s a tough thing to fight. Federer was on top of Kohlschreiber from the start today. He worked the points for forehands, returned accurately—he had 20 or so break points—and kept the shanks to a minimum. Kohlschreiber, disgusted with his second set, gave everything he had to win the third. He’s a strong enough shotmaker to get it done—they played some spectacular points late in the third—but he had nothing left for the fourth and was down a break in minutes.
Afterward, Federer said that he was happy with the match because the “rhythm was high.” The points were fast-paced, and he was sharp. He’ll need to be again for his next round, when he'll face Robin Soderling. Sir Sod has been up and down in all of his wins so far, and he says he’s had stomach problems all week. He’ll have a couple days to recover, which Federer slyly insinuated he may need. “It’s going to be interesting to see,” Federer said of Soderling, “how he’s going to enter that match after coping with such a long tournament in Paris.” In other words, welcome to my world, Robin.
As for Soderling, he was unsure himself.
“Do you have any reason to think that you could get closer to Roger on the grass here than on clay?” he was asked.
"No," was Sod's immediate answer. This was a joke, of course. Of course it was a joke.
There was also a brief moment of humor in Federer’s presser, at least to my ears. He was asked to comment on playing Fabrice Santoro, who just went out of his final Wimbledon. Federer said, “He’s a great test for youngsters coming up, because it doesn’t matter how great you are, he’ll find a weakness in your game. Even though maybe there’s not many there, he’ll still make it really difficult for you…”
Federer was, indirectly, referring to himself when he said “not many [weaknesses] there.” I had thought for a second that he was going to say “even if you don’t have any.”
I laughed at that line, but there was a moment that left me shaking my head in Centre Court today and realizing again how few exploitable weaknesses Federer really does have. Serving to stay in the third set at 5-6, Federer made an incorrect challenge to go down 0-15. He was annoyed. Kohlschreiber was on fire. The set was in the balance. On the next point, the German bullied Federer out of position and seemed to have the point wrapped up with a perfect drop volley. But Federer, with that violent stride, reached the ball at the last second and guided it past a shocked Kohlschreiber and into the corner for a winner. He hit two aces and held. Where can a man like Philipp Kohlschreiber go after that? He ended up winning the set, but in his presser he said that even doing that didn't make him think he could win the match.
Like I said, I won’t see Federer again at this Wimbledon, the one that may be his crowning achievement. Most of the people who were in Centre Court today won’t see him again either. But we knew we'd gotten his best. As Federer hinted in his comments about Soderling today, a champion has to bring all of it—the cool head and the raw speed, the God-given instincts and the proud determination—to each match, to each point. There was a word that came to my mind to describe the way Federer played the point I just mentioned. It wasn’t calm. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t superhuman. It was a hard-edged, single-minded effort with a sheen of graceful athleticism. It was a steely shot. (Who needs a steel roof?) It's the same word I would use to describe Federer's ultimate achievement, the one he most likely doubts that Robin Soderling can put an end to on Monday: 20 consecutive Grand Slam semifinals. That unprecedented mark of consistency will be pretty much impossible to surpass—to break. It may become Federer's signature legacy, because, more than anything else, it's a testament to the steeliness of its holder.
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