The 2008 Davis Cup final, pitting perennial contender Spain against a strong Argentina squad, was to be the perfect finale to an amazing year—a year that saw two first-time Grand Slam champions hailing from the small nation of Serbia in Novak Djokovic and Ana Ivanovic; the first back-to-back French Open-Wimbledon winner on the men's side since Bjorn Borg and subsequent ascendancy by long-time #2 Rafael Nadal to the world #1 ranking; the resurgence of the Williams sisters, too long from the top of the game, competing for the Wimbledon title; the inevitable but still unexpected fall from the mountaintop of Roger Federer, who had dominated his sport for four years and 237 consecutive weeks; the slow and steady rise to the WTA #1 ranking by Jelena Jankevic, a woman who had yet to challenge for a Slam title; and the emergence of a slew of relative newcomers on both the women's and mens tour, all ready and eager to shake up the established pecking order.
Among these newcomers is Juan Martin Del Potro, a lanky giant of a man not yet of drinking age but full of promise. Del Potro went on a 23-match tear over the summer, garnering four straight titles along the way. So, when the Spanish team found itself after the Paris Masters Series event without its stalwart, world #1 Nadal, out with tendinitis of the knee, the Name Del Potro suddenly loomed ever larger. Alongside David Nalbandan, an already proven warrior known for his late-season heroics and fondness of indoor venues, Del Potro began to look like the guy who would help Team Argentina—four times a finalist without a Cup to show—achieve her destiny.
Friday, the first day of play, saw David Nalbandian take on David Ferrer in the first rubber and Del Potro battle with Feliciano Lopez in the second. Nalbandian secured the early lead for Argentina with a straight-sets win over Ferrer, and it looked as though the loss of Nadal and others to injury and the Argentine home-court advantage might be too much for a Spanish team that is otherwise deep in talent. Then a funny thing happened—Lopez knocked out Del Potro in four sets, two by tiebreak.
Suddenly, what seemed an inevitable 4-1 or 3-2 Argentina victory began to look like an upset was in the making. By evening up the score at 1-apiece, Spain goes into Day 2, the doubles, with the momentum and with confidence that the experienced and skillful doubles team of Lopez and Fernando Verdasco can put Spain out in front going into the third and final day.
In isolation, the Lopez win might not be so significant, but put into the context and flow of the Davis Cup format, it may very well turn out to be the deal-breaker (or sealer, if you've been betting on Spain all along). If he and Verdasco can win the doubles rubber, putting Argentina ahead 2-1 going into the last day's reverse singles matches, Spain will have to be considered the favorite, her odds greatly improved. Winning two straight singles matches on the final day is a daunting task, and one that will certainly cause the Argentine players to feel a great deal of pressure, given the pre-Cup expectations in the midst of Nadal's absence.
The Lopez singles win over Del Potro also has shown once again how crucial the doubles rubber is to a team's bid to win a Davis Cup title. It just cannot be overstated. Funny how Lopez figures in that one, too. We may just have a new Davis Cup hero by Sunday afternoon, and an unlikely one at that. A fitting end to an unpredictable year full of wondrous surprises.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The New World Order
I’ve always been a bit skeptical of putting tennis in the Olympic Games. My reasons mainly pivot on a bias toward maintaining (or should I say returning to) the traditionally amateur nature of Olympic competition, which sadly has given way to professionals like the U.S. basketball squads—the so-called “Dream” and “Redeem” teams.
But something happened this year to give me pause. Spain’s Rafael Nadal, the impending world #1, and world #3 Novak Djokovic of Serbia met in the semifinals.
Djokovic took the year’s first Grand Slam title in January at the Australian Open in Melbourne, where he beat then-world #1 Roger Federer in the semifinals. That win added to previous hard-court wins at Key Biscayne and Montreal, and final showings at Indian Wells and the 2007 U.S. Open, where he lost to Federer. These results, and his successive conquests of then-world #3 Andy Roddick, then-#2 Nadal, and then-#1 Federer in the 2007 Rogers Cup Masters Series event in Montreal, have made Djokovic the new hard-court favorite.
Nadal, who has always struggled more on the hard courts, lost in the year’s first Grand Slam to the fiery Frenchman, Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, in the semifinals. Since then, of course, Nadal has had a career year, winning eight titles already, including the French Open, his fourth straight, and Wimbledon. Both wins came at the expense of Federer, Roland Garros in convincing fashion and Wimbledon in what may be considered the greatest Slam final in history. Nadal’s win in this year’s Rogers Cup Masters Series event in Toronto began to dispel the doubts about his ability to win on hard courts.
As if to make it clear he has earned bragging rights, Nadal defeated Djokovic in three tough sets in Beijing to move on to play Fernando Gonzalez for the gold medal. Nadal won the final in convincing fashion—as he is prone to do with so much at stake—to add Olympic gold to his Roland Garros and Wimbledon crowns.
The day after, August 18, will be remembered as the day the new world order was ushered in. It’s been a long time coming, and finally arrived two full weeks after Rafael Nadal had earned enough tournament points to overtake Roger Federer for the number one spot in the computer rankings.
But the computer isn’t finished, the shuffling of the deck not yet complete. With Djokovic the most likely candidate to give Nadal a run for his money on the sports grandest stages, we may very well see Roger Federer, who held the top rank for 237 consecutive weeks, slip to the third-place spot before next year’s Wimbledon. What’s more, if Federer were to fail in his defense of his U.S. Open title or the Masters Cup Year-End Championships, and Djokovic were to win the U.S. Open, the Masters Cup or the 2009 Australian Open in January, Federer could fall to world #3 by February.
What I especially like about Djokovic is his ability to first withstand the barrage of viciously heavy topspin forehands from Nadal to the backhand. With his uncluttered, technically sound two-handed stroke, Djokovic not only absorbs those blows from Nadal, he can turn them on their head. He does this by taking the ball early, on the rise, and powering through the hitting zone to drive the ball either with precision up the line or cross court flat and deep to Nadal’s forehand corner, where Nadal has shown some vulnerability. This vulnerability, which has been exploited expertly by players such as countryman Juan Carlos Ferrero and Andy Murray of Great Britain, is due mainly to his preference for open-stance forehands and his inability to generate as much pace or rotation when he is forced to hit his forehand from behind the baseline on the dead run with a cross-over step and the ball moving quickly away from him.
And by using his two-handed backhand instead of stepping around that wing to crack an inside-out forehand, Djokovic does not leave open to attack his forehand court. He takes away what would be a vulnerability created by a one-handed player making a risky move.
Federer’s struggles against Nadal boil down to his inability to construct a solid answer to Nadal’s cross-court forehands and wide-slicing serves into the advantage service box, both of which reveal the one chink in Federer’s armor—a one-handed backhand that can be exploited through powerful, high-bouncing balls and serves stretching him wide and opening the court.
Andy Murray can challenge both Nadal and Djokovic when healthy and running on a full tank. Others who will soon be in the mix are Juan Del Potro, recent winner of four straight tour events, and Ernests Gulbis, Gilles Simon and Marin Cilic. Of course, I’d love to see a healthy Tsonga trading shots with the top dogs every week, but his body seems as frail as it is impressive.
Any way you look at it, the game is evolving as the players with big wingspans and two-handed weapons are making the court wider and longer and the service boxes narrower. In the new world order, only the supremely fast and fit can survive.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
But something happened this year to give me pause. Spain’s Rafael Nadal, the impending world #1, and world #3 Novak Djokovic of Serbia met in the semifinals.
Djokovic took the year’s first Grand Slam title in January at the Australian Open in Melbourne, where he beat then-world #1 Roger Federer in the semifinals. That win added to previous hard-court wins at Key Biscayne and Montreal, and final showings at Indian Wells and the 2007 U.S. Open, where he lost to Federer. These results, and his successive conquests of then-world #3 Andy Roddick, then-#2 Nadal, and then-#1 Federer in the 2007 Rogers Cup Masters Series event in Montreal, have made Djokovic the new hard-court favorite.
Nadal, who has always struggled more on the hard courts, lost in the year’s first Grand Slam to the fiery Frenchman, Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, in the semifinals. Since then, of course, Nadal has had a career year, winning eight titles already, including the French Open, his fourth straight, and Wimbledon. Both wins came at the expense of Federer, Roland Garros in convincing fashion and Wimbledon in what may be considered the greatest Slam final in history. Nadal’s win in this year’s Rogers Cup Masters Series event in Toronto began to dispel the doubts about his ability to win on hard courts.
As if to make it clear he has earned bragging rights, Nadal defeated Djokovic in three tough sets in Beijing to move on to play Fernando Gonzalez for the gold medal. Nadal won the final in convincing fashion—as he is prone to do with so much at stake—to add Olympic gold to his Roland Garros and Wimbledon crowns.
The day after, August 18, will be remembered as the day the new world order was ushered in. It’s been a long time coming, and finally arrived two full weeks after Rafael Nadal had earned enough tournament points to overtake Roger Federer for the number one spot in the computer rankings.
But the computer isn’t finished, the shuffling of the deck not yet complete. With Djokovic the most likely candidate to give Nadal a run for his money on the sports grandest stages, we may very well see Roger Federer, who held the top rank for 237 consecutive weeks, slip to the third-place spot before next year’s Wimbledon. What’s more, if Federer were to fail in his defense of his U.S. Open title or the Masters Cup Year-End Championships, and Djokovic were to win the U.S. Open, the Masters Cup or the 2009 Australian Open in January, Federer could fall to world #3 by February.
What I especially like about Djokovic is his ability to first withstand the barrage of viciously heavy topspin forehands from Nadal to the backhand. With his uncluttered, technically sound two-handed stroke, Djokovic not only absorbs those blows from Nadal, he can turn them on their head. He does this by taking the ball early, on the rise, and powering through the hitting zone to drive the ball either with precision up the line or cross court flat and deep to Nadal’s forehand corner, where Nadal has shown some vulnerability. This vulnerability, which has been exploited expertly by players such as countryman Juan Carlos Ferrero and Andy Murray of Great Britain, is due mainly to his preference for open-stance forehands and his inability to generate as much pace or rotation when he is forced to hit his forehand from behind the baseline on the dead run with a cross-over step and the ball moving quickly away from him.
And by using his two-handed backhand instead of stepping around that wing to crack an inside-out forehand, Djokovic does not leave open to attack his forehand court. He takes away what would be a vulnerability created by a one-handed player making a risky move.
Federer’s struggles against Nadal boil down to his inability to construct a solid answer to Nadal’s cross-court forehands and wide-slicing serves into the advantage service box, both of which reveal the one chink in Federer’s armor—a one-handed backhand that can be exploited through powerful, high-bouncing balls and serves stretching him wide and opening the court.
Andy Murray can challenge both Nadal and Djokovic when healthy and running on a full tank. Others who will soon be in the mix are Juan Del Potro, recent winner of four straight tour events, and Ernests Gulbis, Gilles Simon and Marin Cilic. Of course, I’d love to see a healthy Tsonga trading shots with the top dogs every week, but his body seems as frail as it is impressive.
Any way you look at it, the game is evolving as the players with big wingspans and two-handed weapons are making the court wider and longer and the service boxes narrower. In the new world order, only the supremely fast and fit can survive.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
A Non-Golden Moment
Sometimes athletes reveal themselves in ways that they think flatter them but when viewed from a different perspective actually do not. For me, two such moments stand out from the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
The first of these non-golden moments occurred in the semifinals in Men’s Tennis Singles. In a hard-fought contest between American James Blake and Chilean Fernando Gonzalez that featured some amazing shot-making and equally amazing blunders, we got to see into the souls of both athletes—and it wasn’t especially pretty.
Blake had reached the semifinals and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compete for an Olympic medal by finally defeating Roger Federer. Federer had never lost to Blake before their quarterfinal match in Beijing, winning so convincingly in their previous meetings that Blake had only managed to win one set from Federer, back in the 2006 U.S. Open.
Gonzalez, an unlikely semifinalist in many respects, came to Beijing with two Olympic medals from the 2004 Athens Games, where he took the bronze in singles and the gold in doubles with teammate Nicolas Massu. Outside of his one Grand Slam final appearance—the 2007 Australian Open—the man with the huge forehand and great variety had always managed to perform beneath his potential.
Both men certainly had plenty of motivation going into the match, and both were on top of their games on a court that seemed suited to their gun-slinging styles.
Early in the match Gonzalez had an opportunity near the net to pass Blake and chose instead to go at the American’s body. A perfectly legitimate play, it nonetheless stung as Blake glared at Gonzalez.
Fast forward to 8-9 in the third and final set. Gonzalez serving, first point. Gonzalez makes a foray to the net and Blake, with a passing shot on his backhand side, goes directly at his opponent, who in moving to avoid being hit appears to make contact with the ball on the throat of his racquet. The ball sails over the baseline and is a called out.
Blake contests the call, questioning whether Gonzalez inadvertently touched the ball as it sailed past. Viewers in their living rooms see a replay that clearly shows the ball deflected off the throat of Gonzalez’s racquet, but Gonzalez maintains that he does not know what happened and that he “felt nothing.” The call stands. Point to Gonzalez, 15-Love.
Gonzalez goes on to win the match and in the presser Blake makes a big deal out of that single, contested point and Gonzalez’s unwillingness to rule against himself. Blake speaks about the Players Code, his upbringing, and how his father would have yanked him off the court had he ever behaved so unsportingly. Gonzalez, in his presser, maintained that he could not feel the alleged hit and therefore did not feel compelled to overrule the chair umpire.
What we saw in that one moment and in the moments that followed were how far players will allow themselves to go to justify a win—and a loss.
Should Gonzalez have ruled against himself, informing the chair umpire that he had inadvertently touched the ball before it sailed long? Certainly yes, in a perfect world. In a perfect world, we would be able to tell with certainty that he knew he had made contact with the ball. In a perfect world, the Player Challenge and Instant Replay would be used to resolve these types of dispute, not simply to make calls of “in” or “out.” It is not, as most of us know, a perfect world.
Should Blake have brushed it off, put his head down, and gotten down to the business of beating his opponent with renewed vigor and purpose, even righteousness? Of course, but he did not. And in the end, what really made the difference in the match was the 70 unforced errors from Blake’s racquet.
The second non-golden moment was just after the 200 meter (4x50) freestyle team relay. Coming out of the water with a silver medal, the third in these games for 41-year-old American swimmer and relay race captain Dara Torres, the poolside reporter asked the women about their experience. Olympic great Natalie Coughlin spoke of preparing for “this meet” and how much they enjoyed “this meet”—as though she were completely unaware that this was the Olympic Games.
Talk about having too-little appreciation for the moment. Or, maybe it’s just her personal mindset in getting ready for the largest swims of her career—it’s just another meet, no cause for fear or nerves.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
The first of these non-golden moments occurred in the semifinals in Men’s Tennis Singles. In a hard-fought contest between American James Blake and Chilean Fernando Gonzalez that featured some amazing shot-making and equally amazing blunders, we got to see into the souls of both athletes—and it wasn’t especially pretty.
Blake had reached the semifinals and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compete for an Olympic medal by finally defeating Roger Federer. Federer had never lost to Blake before their quarterfinal match in Beijing, winning so convincingly in their previous meetings that Blake had only managed to win one set from Federer, back in the 2006 U.S. Open.
Gonzalez, an unlikely semifinalist in many respects, came to Beijing with two Olympic medals from the 2004 Athens Games, where he took the bronze in singles and the gold in doubles with teammate Nicolas Massu. Outside of his one Grand Slam final appearance—the 2007 Australian Open—the man with the huge forehand and great variety had always managed to perform beneath his potential.
Both men certainly had plenty of motivation going into the match, and both were on top of their games on a court that seemed suited to their gun-slinging styles.
Early in the match Gonzalez had an opportunity near the net to pass Blake and chose instead to go at the American’s body. A perfectly legitimate play, it nonetheless stung as Blake glared at Gonzalez.
Fast forward to 8-9 in the third and final set. Gonzalez serving, first point. Gonzalez makes a foray to the net and Blake, with a passing shot on his backhand side, goes directly at his opponent, who in moving to avoid being hit appears to make contact with the ball on the throat of his racquet. The ball sails over the baseline and is a called out.
Blake contests the call, questioning whether Gonzalez inadvertently touched the ball as it sailed past. Viewers in their living rooms see a replay that clearly shows the ball deflected off the throat of Gonzalez’s racquet, but Gonzalez maintains that he does not know what happened and that he “felt nothing.” The call stands. Point to Gonzalez, 15-Love.
Gonzalez goes on to win the match and in the presser Blake makes a big deal out of that single, contested point and Gonzalez’s unwillingness to rule against himself. Blake speaks about the Players Code, his upbringing, and how his father would have yanked him off the court had he ever behaved so unsportingly. Gonzalez, in his presser, maintained that he could not feel the alleged hit and therefore did not feel compelled to overrule the chair umpire.
What we saw in that one moment and in the moments that followed were how far players will allow themselves to go to justify a win—and a loss.
Should Gonzalez have ruled against himself, informing the chair umpire that he had inadvertently touched the ball before it sailed long? Certainly yes, in a perfect world. In a perfect world, we would be able to tell with certainty that he knew he had made contact with the ball. In a perfect world, the Player Challenge and Instant Replay would be used to resolve these types of dispute, not simply to make calls of “in” or “out.” It is not, as most of us know, a perfect world.
Should Blake have brushed it off, put his head down, and gotten down to the business of beating his opponent with renewed vigor and purpose, even righteousness? Of course, but he did not. And in the end, what really made the difference in the match was the 70 unforced errors from Blake’s racquet.
The second non-golden moment was just after the 200 meter (4x50) freestyle team relay. Coming out of the water with a silver medal, the third in these games for 41-year-old American swimmer and relay race captain Dara Torres, the poolside reporter asked the women about their experience. Olympic great Natalie Coughlin spoke of preparing for “this meet” and how much they enjoyed “this meet”—as though she were completely unaware that this was the Olympic Games.
Talk about having too-little appreciation for the moment. Or, maybe it’s just her personal mindset in getting ready for the largest swims of her career—it’s just another meet, no cause for fear or nerves.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Eight Days in August
This blog post is a rare departure from my singular focus on all things tennis, but then these are rare times we’re experiencing.
08.08.08. Few of us will ever forget that date in history, or these numbers: Eight one-hundredths of a second. Eight golds in eight events. Fewer still will soon forget these names: Michael Phelps. Nastia Liukin. Dara Torres. Just a few of the U.S. hopefuls to achieve greatness at the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.
The Games kicked off with the most magnificent—if also allegedly unreal in places—opening ceremony ever witnessed on the eighth day of August. Eight days later, history had been made, and I had been forever altered.
The Michael Phelps story, the biggest of these Games, was certainly compelling, as it played out over the course of eight days. It was very difficult not to look—a bit like trying to avert one’s eyes from a highway disaster that has just occurred. To me, though, the real story was Jason Lezak’s herculean effort to keep Phelps in the hunt for his Olympic-record eight gold medals, edging out boastful Frenchman Bernard in the final, freestyle leg of the 400 meter team medley. Making the turn at 50-meters, Lezak trailed the world-record holder by almost a full body length. But with his teammate’s historic quest in jeopardy, Lezak did the seemingly impossible, pulling even with Bernard with less than a meter to go and touching the wall first—by a mere eight one-hundredths of a second.
And what to make of 41-year-old Dara Torres, swimming in her fifth Olympic Games, having missed the 1996 and 2004 Games? She swam in spectacular form, missing the gold medal in the 50 meter freestyle by one one-hundredth of a second. The clock cannot measure it any closer than that. A real trooper and team player, even in defeat, Torres immediately went back in the water to lead the U.S. to a silver medal in the 400 meter freestyle relay. In all, she swam in three events, earning silver in each. Incredible.
However, when it comes to the Olympic Games, the very fact that it occurs only once every four years lends a larger-than-life element to each event and to each competitor. There is a suspense that pervades the site and hangs in the air before each crack of the starting gun or blow of the whistle. It is this suspense and the grandeur of the moment that can produce a cathartic experience for me. And I am rarely moved to the way I was watching the women’s individual all-around gymnastics event. Only four such moments come to mind in all the years I’ve watched professional tennis.
The 1975 Wimbledon final, when Arthur Ashe defeated the heavily favored Jimmy Connors with a brilliant strategy and near-flawless tactics. The French Open final, 1983. Yannick Noah wins his nation’s title and Grand Slam, beating the heavily favored Mats Wilander, and then weeps openly. The 1995 Davis Cup final in Moscow. Pete Sampras collapses on the red-clay court after defeating Andrei Chesnokov and winning all three matches he played to give the U.S. a 3-2 win over hometown favorite, Russia. The U.S. Open quarterfinals, the following year. Pete Sampras’ overcomes the effects of dehydration, vomiting on court, and a match point against him to win a five-set thriller over Spain’s Alex Corretja in what would be one of his most famous career-defining warrior moments.
Truth is, very few sporting events offer the level of suspense and drama that gymnastics’ all-around does. No other sporting event, save perhaps the decathlon, asks so much of its competitors. No other event demands that the athlete demonstrate such a diverse array of skills in such a short time. The floor exercise couldn’t be more different than the uneven bars, the balance beam than the vault. And the athletes must go from one directly to the other, with very little time to recover, reflect, regroup or retool. The pressure simply accumulates, greater and greater with each successive routine or apparatus.
Watching the U.S.’s Nastia Liukin seize the gold medal from favored compatriot, Shawn Johnson, was a moment to behold and to treasure. Forget for a moment that Miss Johnson was the 2007 world champion and was the U.S.’s best hope for a medal. Forget that the flexible young Yang Lilin, from China, would make all of her routines look easy. Or that the U.S. had never placed more than one female gymnast upon the medal podium. Forget that a poised and matured Mary Lou Retton, the 1984 Olympic gold medalist in the all-around, gazed on from the stands.
What made this moment extraordinary was the way in which Miss Liukin went about her business. Throughout the evening she had a look of calm that yet betrayed her determination and strength of mind. She didn’t look or act like an underdog. After the uneven bars, she trailed Yang. Moments later, she stuck her landing on the vault, showing she was a serious contender. Then Liukin performed a near-perfect balance beam routine, culminating in a picture-perfect dismount that was identical to her vault landing, putting her in the lead. In the final apparatus, the floor exercise, with the pressure on and now leading the reigning world champion in the floor exercise, Shawn Johnson, by a slim margin, she performed with the grace and self-assurance of an Olympic champion. Johnson followed with a brilliant performance of her own, a more muscular acrobatic performance that brought her the silver medal.
Standing on the medal platform together, it was evident that both young women felt overwhelming emotion. Pride in themselves, though visible, was momentarily overshadowed by pride for their country and for each other. What really got to me, though, was observing Liukin passing through a series of competing emotions, each fully capable of bringing her to her knees in a heap of spent energy. I could see in her eyes and on her face the years of exertion, of disciplined training, of dreaming and hoping and waiting for this moment, all washing over her like baptismal water, both cleansing and freeing her. The weight that she had borne for more than four years was now lifted from her shoulders, yet instead of relief there was a kind of sadness that lingered there, as in experiencing a great loss.
It was too much to handle, and as she trembled with the effort to remain poised, to keep from weeping openly, I felt a welling up inside me. I would bare, in the safety and privacy of my living room, what in that moment she could not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
08.08.08. Few of us will ever forget that date in history, or these numbers: Eight one-hundredths of a second. Eight golds in eight events. Fewer still will soon forget these names: Michael Phelps. Nastia Liukin. Dara Torres. Just a few of the U.S. hopefuls to achieve greatness at the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games.
The Games kicked off with the most magnificent—if also allegedly unreal in places—opening ceremony ever witnessed on the eighth day of August. Eight days later, history had been made, and I had been forever altered.
The Michael Phelps story, the biggest of these Games, was certainly compelling, as it played out over the course of eight days. It was very difficult not to look—a bit like trying to avert one’s eyes from a highway disaster that has just occurred. To me, though, the real story was Jason Lezak’s herculean effort to keep Phelps in the hunt for his Olympic-record eight gold medals, edging out boastful Frenchman Bernard in the final, freestyle leg of the 400 meter team medley. Making the turn at 50-meters, Lezak trailed the world-record holder by almost a full body length. But with his teammate’s historic quest in jeopardy, Lezak did the seemingly impossible, pulling even with Bernard with less than a meter to go and touching the wall first—by a mere eight one-hundredths of a second.
And what to make of 41-year-old Dara Torres, swimming in her fifth Olympic Games, having missed the 1996 and 2004 Games? She swam in spectacular form, missing the gold medal in the 50 meter freestyle by one one-hundredth of a second. The clock cannot measure it any closer than that. A real trooper and team player, even in defeat, Torres immediately went back in the water to lead the U.S. to a silver medal in the 400 meter freestyle relay. In all, she swam in three events, earning silver in each. Incredible.
However, when it comes to the Olympic Games, the very fact that it occurs only once every four years lends a larger-than-life element to each event and to each competitor. There is a suspense that pervades the site and hangs in the air before each crack of the starting gun or blow of the whistle. It is this suspense and the grandeur of the moment that can produce a cathartic experience for me. And I am rarely moved to the way I was watching the women’s individual all-around gymnastics event. Only four such moments come to mind in all the years I’ve watched professional tennis.
The 1975 Wimbledon final, when Arthur Ashe defeated the heavily favored Jimmy Connors with a brilliant strategy and near-flawless tactics. The French Open final, 1983. Yannick Noah wins his nation’s title and Grand Slam, beating the heavily favored Mats Wilander, and then weeps openly. The 1995 Davis Cup final in Moscow. Pete Sampras collapses on the red-clay court after defeating Andrei Chesnokov and winning all three matches he played to give the U.S. a 3-2 win over hometown favorite, Russia. The U.S. Open quarterfinals, the following year. Pete Sampras’ overcomes the effects of dehydration, vomiting on court, and a match point against him to win a five-set thriller over Spain’s Alex Corretja in what would be one of his most famous career-defining warrior moments.
Truth is, very few sporting events offer the level of suspense and drama that gymnastics’ all-around does. No other sporting event, save perhaps the decathlon, asks so much of its competitors. No other event demands that the athlete demonstrate such a diverse array of skills in such a short time. The floor exercise couldn’t be more different than the uneven bars, the balance beam than the vault. And the athletes must go from one directly to the other, with very little time to recover, reflect, regroup or retool. The pressure simply accumulates, greater and greater with each successive routine or apparatus.
Watching the U.S.’s Nastia Liukin seize the gold medal from favored compatriot, Shawn Johnson, was a moment to behold and to treasure. Forget for a moment that Miss Johnson was the 2007 world champion and was the U.S.’s best hope for a medal. Forget that the flexible young Yang Lilin, from China, would make all of her routines look easy. Or that the U.S. had never placed more than one female gymnast upon the medal podium. Forget that a poised and matured Mary Lou Retton, the 1984 Olympic gold medalist in the all-around, gazed on from the stands.
What made this moment extraordinary was the way in which Miss Liukin went about her business. Throughout the evening she had a look of calm that yet betrayed her determination and strength of mind. She didn’t look or act like an underdog. After the uneven bars, she trailed Yang. Moments later, she stuck her landing on the vault, showing she was a serious contender. Then Liukin performed a near-perfect balance beam routine, culminating in a picture-perfect dismount that was identical to her vault landing, putting her in the lead. In the final apparatus, the floor exercise, with the pressure on and now leading the reigning world champion in the floor exercise, Shawn Johnson, by a slim margin, she performed with the grace and self-assurance of an Olympic champion. Johnson followed with a brilliant performance of her own, a more muscular acrobatic performance that brought her the silver medal.
Standing on the medal platform together, it was evident that both young women felt overwhelming emotion. Pride in themselves, though visible, was momentarily overshadowed by pride for their country and for each other. What really got to me, though, was observing Liukin passing through a series of competing emotions, each fully capable of bringing her to her knees in a heap of spent energy. I could see in her eyes and on her face the years of exertion, of disciplined training, of dreaming and hoping and waiting for this moment, all washing over her like baptismal water, both cleansing and freeing her. The weight that she had borne for more than four years was now lifted from her shoulders, yet instead of relief there was a kind of sadness that lingered there, as in experiencing a great loss.
It was too much to handle, and as she trembled with the effort to remain poised, to keep from weeping openly, I felt a welling up inside me. I would bare, in the safety and privacy of my living room, what in that moment she could not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Fading Light
As Rafael Nadal readied to serve to Roger Federer for the 2008 Wimbledon title at 8-7 in the fifth set, the light finally faded to the point of no return. Nadal would serve into the void. Roger Federer would stab at a barely visible blur. This is what it came to: the greatest men’s Grand Slam final match since the 1980 Borg v. McEnroe classic, decided on account of darkness.
The man who had been swathed in the warm light of fan and peer adulation for going on five years was no longer stage-center. His rival for the past three years emerged from behind the curtain and was suddenly bathed in the bright white light of flashbulbs bursting like celebratory fireworks. A new world champion had taken his place at center stage.
The fade and flash of light was a fitting portent to this marked milestone in the careers of two of the greatest players ever to step onto the grass at Centre Court—symbolic of each man’s evolution. Exiting the stage was Federer, five-time Wimbledon champion and owner of 12 Grand Slam titles—the undisputed world #1 for more than four consecutive years. In his place a proud new champion who had stood in the wings for three years, biding his time and biting the neck of every trophy he collected in a gesture that underscored his insatiable hunger.
Federer’s rise is an example of organic evolution. A world champion in the juniors, as a young pro he displayed virtuoso talent as well as a diva-like quality, which showed in his frustration over his own less-than-perfect performances. Once he learned to quell the perfectionist within, his talent allowed him to blossom into a rare star—colorful yet traditional, shy yet confident, powerful yet controlled, graceful yet wildly ambitious. Seventeen Grand Slam starts after turning pro, he finally “emerged” one month shy of 22 with his first Wimbledon crown, a rather long draught for such a promising player.
Another 17 Slams later, Federer had amassed 12 titles—three times winning three Slams in one calendar year—a dominance not seen among the men in the Open era, and not seen at all since Steffi Graf won eight of nine Slam titles between the 1988 and 1990 Australian Opens and 10 of 11 Slams between the 1993 French Open and 1996 U.S. Open.
Federer’s descent from the pinnacle of greatness has been like that of a falling star, which catches our gaze and keeps us transfixed. It arguably began with his back-to-back losses in 2007 to Argentine Guillermo Canas, who had just returned to the tour from a two-year doping suspension. Those two losses exposed Federer’s Achilles heel. His next notable loss would come in the semifinal of the 2008 Australian Open to Novak Djokovic, the Serbian player who often comes across as too full of himself. There’s never been any love lost between these two, and that loss took its toll.
Andy Roddick was next up to bat, and he defeated Federer at the Miami masters event in the quarterfinals, Federer’s first meaningful loss to Roddick in 12 matches. The way Federer lost was so uncharacteristic that it made one wonder whether he had lost something else beside his invincibility, his magic. With a chance to hold at 3-4 in the third set, Federer hit four first serves in play and shanked or buried four straight groundstrokes to hand the balls over to Andy to serve it out, which he gladly obliged.
It was discovered that Federer may have been suffering from mononucleosis in Melbourne. He took on Jose Higueras, who coached Jim Courier to two French Open titles, to help him gear-up for a run at Roland Garros, and he spent a good part of the spring season battling the lingering effects of the mono to build his strength for that run—a strategy many questioned.
Nadal’s ascendancy, and despite the computer rankings still showing Federer hanging on at the top he has clearly ascended, has been a long time coming also, but with three straight years as the world #2 it is more of a breakout than a coming out. Just the way in which he has assumed the mantel is impressive.
After defending his titles in Barcelona and Hamburg in the European clay-court run-up to Roland Garros, Nadal put the hammer down on the competition in Paris, not dropping a set on his way to the highly anticipated final against Federer. From the first game with Federer serving, Nadal got his rival in a vise and never let up, beating him for the third straight year, this time convincingly. It was the second most lopsided score in a Slam final in the Open era—6-1, 6-3, 6-0.
That drubbing of the world #1 was the match that propelled Nadal to the top of the tour, in the eyes of his peers and those in the know, if not by the logic of the ATP computer. He went into the Wimbledon tune-ups brimming with confidence, and took the title at Queen’s Club in three tiebreak sets, despite being aced 35 times by big-serving Croatian, Ivo Karlovic.
By mid-June, the storyline heard most was that Federer would prevail on what had virtually become his “home court” for a sixth straight crown, surpassing Bjorn Borg’s record. The story heard almost as often was that Nadal would seize this one from his friend and rival, also putting him in legion with Borg, who is the last man to win the French and Wimbledon back to back. Borg himself was one of those who picked Nadal to win. There couldn’t have been a more highly anticipated event in tennis, if not in all of sport.
So there they were, with the light fading fast, two warriors battling it out for ultimate bragging rights, for the record books, and for personal pride. The match should have been called due to darkness. But there’s no chance it would have been, not with a full house and millions of viewers tuning in late in the evening on the final Sunday to see the best in men’s tennis duel in the dying sun. To suspend play would have been the worst way to end the day and the championships. There would be no escape hatch, no exit.
And at that pivotal juncture in the match, serving at 7-7 after having rebounded from two-sets down by winning the next two sets in tiebreaks, Federer faltered. Perhaps he had a moment of doubt, or as we like to say, the yips. But he lost his nerve and his serve, and Nadal would serve for the match in the dark. Facing a nearly insurmountable task, and knowing that the referee and tournament director were not inclined to suspend play, Federer seemed to merely fade away, as an actor on a stage might back away from the dimming spotlight, ghostlike. His joie de vivre had finally left him, there on the court that had brought him his glory and fulfilled his potential as the most gifted tennis player the sport has seen. It was a sad moment.
So, perhaps it is fitting that on the last day of July in the sweltering heat of Cincinnati, home of the Bengals and Reds, the champion of cool and control went down in defeat to a player he’d never lost to before, the big man who brings the heat on serve after serve, 6’10” Karlovic—the same man whose 35 aces could not pierce the armor of Nadal just a month earlier on grass. Federer’s loss to Karlovic symbolically ushers in the august of this champion’s Hall of Fame career.
A champion’s time is limited in sport, and in tennis that window is becoming increasingly narrow. It is no longer a given, as it was just a few short months ago, that Federer will surpass Pete Sampras’s Grand Slam title count. Federer won his first Slam title just shy of 22; and at 27 he may have won his last.
It is the natural order of things: the guiding light from a star fades as the searing heat of the sun ascends to take its place. Nadal’s sun has risen. The question is: how long will it burn?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
The man who had been swathed in the warm light of fan and peer adulation for going on five years was no longer stage-center. His rival for the past three years emerged from behind the curtain and was suddenly bathed in the bright white light of flashbulbs bursting like celebratory fireworks. A new world champion had taken his place at center stage.
The fade and flash of light was a fitting portent to this marked milestone in the careers of two of the greatest players ever to step onto the grass at Centre Court—symbolic of each man’s evolution. Exiting the stage was Federer, five-time Wimbledon champion and owner of 12 Grand Slam titles—the undisputed world #1 for more than four consecutive years. In his place a proud new champion who had stood in the wings for three years, biding his time and biting the neck of every trophy he collected in a gesture that underscored his insatiable hunger.
Federer’s rise is an example of organic evolution. A world champion in the juniors, as a young pro he displayed virtuoso talent as well as a diva-like quality, which showed in his frustration over his own less-than-perfect performances. Once he learned to quell the perfectionist within, his talent allowed him to blossom into a rare star—colorful yet traditional, shy yet confident, powerful yet controlled, graceful yet wildly ambitious. Seventeen Grand Slam starts after turning pro, he finally “emerged” one month shy of 22 with his first Wimbledon crown, a rather long draught for such a promising player.
Another 17 Slams later, Federer had amassed 12 titles—three times winning three Slams in one calendar year—a dominance not seen among the men in the Open era, and not seen at all since Steffi Graf won eight of nine Slam titles between the 1988 and 1990 Australian Opens and 10 of 11 Slams between the 1993 French Open and 1996 U.S. Open.
Federer’s descent from the pinnacle of greatness has been like that of a falling star, which catches our gaze and keeps us transfixed. It arguably began with his back-to-back losses in 2007 to Argentine Guillermo Canas, who had just returned to the tour from a two-year doping suspension. Those two losses exposed Federer’s Achilles heel. His next notable loss would come in the semifinal of the 2008 Australian Open to Novak Djokovic, the Serbian player who often comes across as too full of himself. There’s never been any love lost between these two, and that loss took its toll.
Andy Roddick was next up to bat, and he defeated Federer at the Miami masters event in the quarterfinals, Federer’s first meaningful loss to Roddick in 12 matches. The way Federer lost was so uncharacteristic that it made one wonder whether he had lost something else beside his invincibility, his magic. With a chance to hold at 3-4 in the third set, Federer hit four first serves in play and shanked or buried four straight groundstrokes to hand the balls over to Andy to serve it out, which he gladly obliged.
It was discovered that Federer may have been suffering from mononucleosis in Melbourne. He took on Jose Higueras, who coached Jim Courier to two French Open titles, to help him gear-up for a run at Roland Garros, and he spent a good part of the spring season battling the lingering effects of the mono to build his strength for that run—a strategy many questioned.
Nadal’s ascendancy, and despite the computer rankings still showing Federer hanging on at the top he has clearly ascended, has been a long time coming also, but with three straight years as the world #2 it is more of a breakout than a coming out. Just the way in which he has assumed the mantel is impressive.
After defending his titles in Barcelona and Hamburg in the European clay-court run-up to Roland Garros, Nadal put the hammer down on the competition in Paris, not dropping a set on his way to the highly anticipated final against Federer. From the first game with Federer serving, Nadal got his rival in a vise and never let up, beating him for the third straight year, this time convincingly. It was the second most lopsided score in a Slam final in the Open era—6-1, 6-3, 6-0.
That drubbing of the world #1 was the match that propelled Nadal to the top of the tour, in the eyes of his peers and those in the know, if not by the logic of the ATP computer. He went into the Wimbledon tune-ups brimming with confidence, and took the title at Queen’s Club in three tiebreak sets, despite being aced 35 times by big-serving Croatian, Ivo Karlovic.
By mid-June, the storyline heard most was that Federer would prevail on what had virtually become his “home court” for a sixth straight crown, surpassing Bjorn Borg’s record. The story heard almost as often was that Nadal would seize this one from his friend and rival, also putting him in legion with Borg, who is the last man to win the French and Wimbledon back to back. Borg himself was one of those who picked Nadal to win. There couldn’t have been a more highly anticipated event in tennis, if not in all of sport.
So there they were, with the light fading fast, two warriors battling it out for ultimate bragging rights, for the record books, and for personal pride. The match should have been called due to darkness. But there’s no chance it would have been, not with a full house and millions of viewers tuning in late in the evening on the final Sunday to see the best in men’s tennis duel in the dying sun. To suspend play would have been the worst way to end the day and the championships. There would be no escape hatch, no exit.
And at that pivotal juncture in the match, serving at 7-7 after having rebounded from two-sets down by winning the next two sets in tiebreaks, Federer faltered. Perhaps he had a moment of doubt, or as we like to say, the yips. But he lost his nerve and his serve, and Nadal would serve for the match in the dark. Facing a nearly insurmountable task, and knowing that the referee and tournament director were not inclined to suspend play, Federer seemed to merely fade away, as an actor on a stage might back away from the dimming spotlight, ghostlike. His joie de vivre had finally left him, there on the court that had brought him his glory and fulfilled his potential as the most gifted tennis player the sport has seen. It was a sad moment.
So, perhaps it is fitting that on the last day of July in the sweltering heat of Cincinnati, home of the Bengals and Reds, the champion of cool and control went down in defeat to a player he’d never lost to before, the big man who brings the heat on serve after serve, 6’10” Karlovic—the same man whose 35 aces could not pierce the armor of Nadal just a month earlier on grass. Federer’s loss to Karlovic symbolically ushers in the august of this champion’s Hall of Fame career.
A champion’s time is limited in sport, and in tennis that window is becoming increasingly narrow. It is no longer a given, as it was just a few short months ago, that Federer will surpass Pete Sampras’s Grand Slam title count. Federer won his first Slam title just shy of 22; and at 27 he may have won his last.
It is the natural order of things: the guiding light from a star fades as the searing heat of the sun ascends to take its place. Nadal’s sun has risen. The question is: how long will it burn?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
By the Content of Their Characters
The 2008 Wimbledon men’s final, pitting the world’s top two players in a 4-hour, 48-minute rain-delayed marathon that was completed under the threat of darkness, had all the elements of an instant classic—a pageantry of athleticism on a field of grass colored by incredible shotmaking and momentum swings from two rivals who have played more Grand Slam finals (6) than any of the other notable rivalries in the Open era.
Like the great rivalries of the past 40 years, the Federer-Nadal match-up was as much a demonstration of contrasting personalities as it was a display of opposing playing styles. Looking back at the epic Open-era match-ups, the differences in their styles of play were equaled or surpassed by the contrasts in their character. And these contrasts in character are what make great drama—elevating an athletic contest to the level of operatic theatre, complete with villains and heroes, inborn character flaws and personal redemption.
In Laver v. Rosewall, we had the self-assured risk-taker against the even-keeled rock of patience and precision. In that historic 1975 Wimbledon final between the veteran Arthur Ashe and Jimmy Connors, who was at the height of his powers, we witnessed intelligence and wisdom facing off against youthful overconfidence. In Connors v. Borg the swaggering street fighter went toe-to-toe with the steely Swede of unbending will and unerring defense. Borg and McEnroe opened a lens into the breaking of that will under the constant pressure of the quick-thrusting touches of the temperamental red-head with the acid tongue. McEnroe and Lendl was nitroglycerin meeting oxygen; the off-court animosity between them as great as the on-court pyrotechnics. Sampras v. Agassi demonstrated how power can be blunted but never fully denied when the will exists to overcome those insuppressible moments of self-doubt.
In Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, we have two of the most distinctive personalities ever to play the game.
Federer is metro-man, the worldly Swiss who is fluent in three or four languages and who cuts as dashing a figure in his cardigan or gold-embroidered jacket as in an Armani suit. But behind that polished, poised exterior is a man driven by passion and ambition. He is Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter for The Daily Planet who swiftly transforms into a superhero by donning his tennis sneakers.
Nadal is less refined, a simple man from a small island village in Spain, an earthly savage with a halting gait who speaks, when he is prodded, in clipped sentences. His is the more imposing physique, with thick thighs and bursting biceps. He is the beast that lies beneath the surface of this modern-day Bruce Banner, waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation—like a raging Hulk. Yet his outward appearance belies an innate intelligence and a gentle wit.
Propelling these two warriors is the unspoken truth of Nadal’s ambition to unseat Federer, which is matched only by Federer’s desire to remain there. So it was that this year’s Wimbledon final would answer the question of who reigns supreme as the world’s best player. Nevermind the points race; with his fourth straight French Open trophy already perched on a shelf in his Mallorcan villa, Nadal has momentarily wrested the title of World #1 from the five-time and defending Wimbledon champion.
We watch their Grand Slam rivalry to learn what each man is made of, what is at the core of their characters.
This much we know: Nadal has shown repeatedly that he is incapable of losing. Like Borg before him, he can come from behind to snatch victory out of the hands of a stunned opponent or break his foe’s will in the early going, rendering the outcome a foregone conclusion. Yes, he can be beaten, he can be bested. But he has yet to succumb to the yips, to shrink out of fear or self-doubt. He seems hard-wired for the psychologically charged one-on-one battle, as if the only thought to enter his head is to fight and to keep fighting until the last ball has been struck. This is a most rare and special gift among tennis players.
Federer’s gift is found in his unique skills—his talents. He has grace and speed, agility and balance, out-of-sight hand-eye coordination and other-worldly racquet skills. He can win against nearly all odds. He is rarely if ever beaten. But he can lose. He occasionally gets the yips, and sometimes appears to unravel at the seams.
Despite Nadal’s winning the French Open and Wimbledon back to back, there are questions that remain unanswered.
Are there built-in character flaws that will keep Nadal from seizing hold of this opportunity to finish the year as the number one player in the world? Or will his Wimbledon win boost his confidence and propel him to new heights? What about Federer? Can he rebound from two huge defeats at the hands of the same man—the first a complete and utter knockout and the latter an epic battle of wills, of character, that may or may not have revealed a chink in his armor?
Did the mononucleosis that hampered Federer through the first few months of the year have an affect on his will to compete? Or did he overcome it in time to get his game in tune for the hard court season? Will he bounce back from his Wimbledon loss to take the U.S. Open and put to rest any doubts about who is still the best player on all surfaces, day in and day out? Will Nadal’s knees be able to withstand the hard court grind? And if so, would winning a shootout with his rival in the U.S. Open final settle things for once and for all, or would it merely enhance the already legendary status of this rivalry?
Whatever the outcome of the hard court season, we an be sure of one thing: it will test these men’s characters. Two men now carry targets on their backs, and each will be faced with unprecedented pressures, from themselves, their opposition and the media. We will learn what makes each man tick, and what chinks their characters may contain.
So, we’ll watch wide-eyed as the weeks unfold and the tension builds, in hopes of learning which man can summon the inner beast or superhero when all the chips are on the table and the last hand is dealt. It’s a rivalry for the history books, yet like those others before it is compelling because of the personalities and the characters of the two men entwined.
Characters welcome.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Like the great rivalries of the past 40 years, the Federer-Nadal match-up was as much a demonstration of contrasting personalities as it was a display of opposing playing styles. Looking back at the epic Open-era match-ups, the differences in their styles of play were equaled or surpassed by the contrasts in their character. And these contrasts in character are what make great drama—elevating an athletic contest to the level of operatic theatre, complete with villains and heroes, inborn character flaws and personal redemption.
In Laver v. Rosewall, we had the self-assured risk-taker against the even-keeled rock of patience and precision. In that historic 1975 Wimbledon final between the veteran Arthur Ashe and Jimmy Connors, who was at the height of his powers, we witnessed intelligence and wisdom facing off against youthful overconfidence. In Connors v. Borg the swaggering street fighter went toe-to-toe with the steely Swede of unbending will and unerring defense. Borg and McEnroe opened a lens into the breaking of that will under the constant pressure of the quick-thrusting touches of the temperamental red-head with the acid tongue. McEnroe and Lendl was nitroglycerin meeting oxygen; the off-court animosity between them as great as the on-court pyrotechnics. Sampras v. Agassi demonstrated how power can be blunted but never fully denied when the will exists to overcome those insuppressible moments of self-doubt.
In Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, we have two of the most distinctive personalities ever to play the game.
Federer is metro-man, the worldly Swiss who is fluent in three or four languages and who cuts as dashing a figure in his cardigan or gold-embroidered jacket as in an Armani suit. But behind that polished, poised exterior is a man driven by passion and ambition. He is Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter for The Daily Planet who swiftly transforms into a superhero by donning his tennis sneakers.
Nadal is less refined, a simple man from a small island village in Spain, an earthly savage with a halting gait who speaks, when he is prodded, in clipped sentences. His is the more imposing physique, with thick thighs and bursting biceps. He is the beast that lies beneath the surface of this modern-day Bruce Banner, waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation—like a raging Hulk. Yet his outward appearance belies an innate intelligence and a gentle wit.
Propelling these two warriors is the unspoken truth of Nadal’s ambition to unseat Federer, which is matched only by Federer’s desire to remain there. So it was that this year’s Wimbledon final would answer the question of who reigns supreme as the world’s best player. Nevermind the points race; with his fourth straight French Open trophy already perched on a shelf in his Mallorcan villa, Nadal has momentarily wrested the title of World #1 from the five-time and defending Wimbledon champion.
We watch their Grand Slam rivalry to learn what each man is made of, what is at the core of their characters.
This much we know: Nadal has shown repeatedly that he is incapable of losing. Like Borg before him, he can come from behind to snatch victory out of the hands of a stunned opponent or break his foe’s will in the early going, rendering the outcome a foregone conclusion. Yes, he can be beaten, he can be bested. But he has yet to succumb to the yips, to shrink out of fear or self-doubt. He seems hard-wired for the psychologically charged one-on-one battle, as if the only thought to enter his head is to fight and to keep fighting until the last ball has been struck. This is a most rare and special gift among tennis players.
Federer’s gift is found in his unique skills—his talents. He has grace and speed, agility and balance, out-of-sight hand-eye coordination and other-worldly racquet skills. He can win against nearly all odds. He is rarely if ever beaten. But he can lose. He occasionally gets the yips, and sometimes appears to unravel at the seams.
Despite Nadal’s winning the French Open and Wimbledon back to back, there are questions that remain unanswered.
Are there built-in character flaws that will keep Nadal from seizing hold of this opportunity to finish the year as the number one player in the world? Or will his Wimbledon win boost his confidence and propel him to new heights? What about Federer? Can he rebound from two huge defeats at the hands of the same man—the first a complete and utter knockout and the latter an epic battle of wills, of character, that may or may not have revealed a chink in his armor?
Did the mononucleosis that hampered Federer through the first few months of the year have an affect on his will to compete? Or did he overcome it in time to get his game in tune for the hard court season? Will he bounce back from his Wimbledon loss to take the U.S. Open and put to rest any doubts about who is still the best player on all surfaces, day in and day out? Will Nadal’s knees be able to withstand the hard court grind? And if so, would winning a shootout with his rival in the U.S. Open final settle things for once and for all, or would it merely enhance the already legendary status of this rivalry?
Whatever the outcome of the hard court season, we an be sure of one thing: it will test these men’s characters. Two men now carry targets on their backs, and each will be faced with unprecedented pressures, from themselves, their opposition and the media. We will learn what makes each man tick, and what chinks their characters may contain.
So, we’ll watch wide-eyed as the weeks unfold and the tension builds, in hopes of learning which man can summon the inner beast or superhero when all the chips are on the table and the last hand is dealt. It’s a rivalry for the history books, yet like those others before it is compelling because of the personalities and the characters of the two men entwined.
Characters welcome.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
String Theory
In A Briefer History of Time, Stephen Hawking discusses developments in theoretical physics. In his introduction to string theory, we meet some unusual particles that behave as though “left-handed.” So now, alongside gravity, strong, weak and electromagnetic forces comes left-handedness! Lately, this left-handedness, or “Lefty Spin” for short, has been wreaking havoc on the natural order of things and rendering even the world’s best tennis player hapless.
Surface Tensions
Today’s top players rely on topspin hooks for their offensive shots. The balls dip, dive, kick, explode, curve and carve up court-space like gravity bends light. Things have not always been this way. Just over 30 years ago, three of four Grand Slams were held on grass, Roland Garros the lone dissenter. On grass, the low slice followed by a net rush was the ticket. Jimmy Connors’ and Bjorn Borg’s achievements are remarkable for their unorthodox style of play—Connors blasting flat balls and Borg carving out angles with topspin, both men planted at the baseline. Connors was a throw-back; Borg a revolutionary.
Topspin has become the norm for two reasons. First, it is less risky and rewards the faster, more powerful athletes of today. It can be hit higher and harder yet stay in play. Net clearance and swing speed can be increased. Second, the predominant surfaces of today are harder and produce a higher bounce. Generally, harder surfaces reward topspin shots.
In 2008, hard court tournaments comprise 37 of the 66 ATP events scheduled, while 23 of 66 are on clay. Of the total, 91% are on surfaces that yield a high bounce, which favors topspin.
There are exceptions to today’s standard style. Fabrice Santoro is a top-100 player who uses slice liberally. But he is a rarity on today’s tour. The Santoroes are found mostly on the public courts.
What’s So Unique about Lefty Spin?
Lefty Spin is unique because it’s rare: there are fewer left-handed people in pro tennis. When a lefty like Rafael Nadal is playing a righty like Roger Federer, Nadal has an immediate advantage because he is more likely to have competed against other righties than Federer is to have played against other lefties. Meetings between lefties are rare.
Why Does Lefty Spin Provide an Advantage?
Observe how Lefty Spin matches up against Righty’s backhand. When Lefty Spin goes cross court to Righty’s backhand, Lefty Spin instantly seizes the advantage. Why? Because of the inherent strength differential between a forehand and a backhand, whether one-handed or two. If Righty is using a two-handed backhand, when Lefty Spin hooks the ball away from Righty’s outstretched arms it stretches him wide, and may even force Righty to drop his left hand to slice or block the return. This is what John McEnroe did to Bjorn Borg, using Lefty Spin to extend Borg and force a weak reply.
The strength differential between a two-handed backhand and a one-handed backhand is plain, but it is true that Righty can reach farther to his left with the one-handed backhand. Still, a reach across his body means he cannot reach as far to his left to hit a backhand as he can to his right for a forehand. These built-in imbalances in strength and reach provide the second advantage to Lefty Spin.
There’s a more powerful advantage. Splitting the court into two “sides”—a Deuce court and an Ad court—coupled with convention yields a third benefit to Lefty Spin. A majority of games are decided in the Ad court. There are only four scenarios in which to end a game in the Deuce court. Moreover, all closely contested games are decided in the Ad court. Every one of them. This is a simple by-product of the rules of play and the scoring system.
When Righty plays Lefty Spin, he is likely to have to defend and/or win most of his receiving games from the Ad court, where he has a distinct disadvantage. Lefty Spin can use his powerful hook serve away from Righty’s backhand to force a weak reply. We saw this again and again when McEnroe served his famous “can opener” to Borg’s two-handed backhand in the Ad court. There is little a Righty can do save take the ball early, a risky play leaving him vulnerable to the serve up the middle or to Lefty Spin’s next shot.
Naturally, because the majority of games are decided in the Ad court, Righty’s advantage in the Deuce court eventually gives way to Lefty Spin’s. It’s physics and anatomy coupled with geometry.
Overcoming Lefty Spin
There simply is no one-handed backhand reply from the Ad court receiving position that can fully neutralize Lefty Spin’s advantage. Righty’s two-handed backhand is stronger on the high-bouncing balls, but the reach limitation cancels out any strength advantage two hands give him.
The best way to counter Lefty Spin is to win the receiving games at 15-40. Once the game reaches 30-40, Lefty Spin will likely prevail and bring the game to Deuce. From there the game will be decided in the Ad court, where Lefty Spin has the clear advantage.
Thinking Outside the Box
There are two possible ways to negate the Lefty Spin advantage.
First, require Lefty Spin to begin his service games from the Ad court, so that all closely contested games will be decided in the Deuce court, where his advantage is less profound.
Alternatively, use the Van Allen Simplified Scoring System. In this system, there is no Deuce or Ad; when a game reaches three-points apiece, the seventh point is played to the service box of the receiver’s choice. VASSS is being used in collegiate matches today, and it goes a long way in putting Righties and Lefties on equal footing.
A sport so steeped in tradition is loath to make radical changes, and no one wants to be seen as picking on a minority group. Lefties are certainly in the minority. At least for now. But if Uncle Toni has his way….
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Surface Tensions
Today’s top players rely on topspin hooks for their offensive shots. The balls dip, dive, kick, explode, curve and carve up court-space like gravity bends light. Things have not always been this way. Just over 30 years ago, three of four Grand Slams were held on grass, Roland Garros the lone dissenter. On grass, the low slice followed by a net rush was the ticket. Jimmy Connors’ and Bjorn Borg’s achievements are remarkable for their unorthodox style of play—Connors blasting flat balls and Borg carving out angles with topspin, both men planted at the baseline. Connors was a throw-back; Borg a revolutionary.
Topspin has become the norm for two reasons. First, it is less risky and rewards the faster, more powerful athletes of today. It can be hit higher and harder yet stay in play. Net clearance and swing speed can be increased. Second, the predominant surfaces of today are harder and produce a higher bounce. Generally, harder surfaces reward topspin shots.
In 2008, hard court tournaments comprise 37 of the 66 ATP events scheduled, while 23 of 66 are on clay. Of the total, 91% are on surfaces that yield a high bounce, which favors topspin.
There are exceptions to today’s standard style. Fabrice Santoro is a top-100 player who uses slice liberally. But he is a rarity on today’s tour. The Santoroes are found mostly on the public courts.
What’s So Unique about Lefty Spin?
Lefty Spin is unique because it’s rare: there are fewer left-handed people in pro tennis. When a lefty like Rafael Nadal is playing a righty like Roger Federer, Nadal has an immediate advantage because he is more likely to have competed against other righties than Federer is to have played against other lefties. Meetings between lefties are rare.
Why Does Lefty Spin Provide an Advantage?
Observe how Lefty Spin matches up against Righty’s backhand. When Lefty Spin goes cross court to Righty’s backhand, Lefty Spin instantly seizes the advantage. Why? Because of the inherent strength differential between a forehand and a backhand, whether one-handed or two. If Righty is using a two-handed backhand, when Lefty Spin hooks the ball away from Righty’s outstretched arms it stretches him wide, and may even force Righty to drop his left hand to slice or block the return. This is what John McEnroe did to Bjorn Borg, using Lefty Spin to extend Borg and force a weak reply.
The strength differential between a two-handed backhand and a one-handed backhand is plain, but it is true that Righty can reach farther to his left with the one-handed backhand. Still, a reach across his body means he cannot reach as far to his left to hit a backhand as he can to his right for a forehand. These built-in imbalances in strength and reach provide the second advantage to Lefty Spin.
There’s a more powerful advantage. Splitting the court into two “sides”—a Deuce court and an Ad court—coupled with convention yields a third benefit to Lefty Spin. A majority of games are decided in the Ad court. There are only four scenarios in which to end a game in the Deuce court. Moreover, all closely contested games are decided in the Ad court. Every one of them. This is a simple by-product of the rules of play and the scoring system.
When Righty plays Lefty Spin, he is likely to have to defend and/or win most of his receiving games from the Ad court, where he has a distinct disadvantage. Lefty Spin can use his powerful hook serve away from Righty’s backhand to force a weak reply. We saw this again and again when McEnroe served his famous “can opener” to Borg’s two-handed backhand in the Ad court. There is little a Righty can do save take the ball early, a risky play leaving him vulnerable to the serve up the middle or to Lefty Spin’s next shot.
Naturally, because the majority of games are decided in the Ad court, Righty’s advantage in the Deuce court eventually gives way to Lefty Spin’s. It’s physics and anatomy coupled with geometry.
Overcoming Lefty Spin
There simply is no one-handed backhand reply from the Ad court receiving position that can fully neutralize Lefty Spin’s advantage. Righty’s two-handed backhand is stronger on the high-bouncing balls, but the reach limitation cancels out any strength advantage two hands give him.
The best way to counter Lefty Spin is to win the receiving games at 15-40. Once the game reaches 30-40, Lefty Spin will likely prevail and bring the game to Deuce. From there the game will be decided in the Ad court, where Lefty Spin has the clear advantage.
Thinking Outside the Box
There are two possible ways to negate the Lefty Spin advantage.
First, require Lefty Spin to begin his service games from the Ad court, so that all closely contested games will be decided in the Deuce court, where his advantage is less profound.
Alternatively, use the Van Allen Simplified Scoring System. In this system, there is no Deuce or Ad; when a game reaches three-points apiece, the seventh point is played to the service box of the receiver’s choice. VASSS is being used in collegiate matches today, and it goes a long way in putting Righties and Lefties on equal footing.
A sport so steeped in tradition is loath to make radical changes, and no one wants to be seen as picking on a minority group. Lefties are certainly in the minority. At least for now. But if Uncle Toni has his way….
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The French Have Their Wine... We've Got James Blake!
I anticipated the coming of the Davis Cup tie to North Carolina with great excitement this year, as Team France looked to be a very formidable opponent, at least on paper. With Richard Gasquet currently at No. 10, the much improved Jo-Wilfried Tsonga at No. 13, Paul-Henri Mathieu at No. 12, and a host of accomplished doubles players, including Michael Llodra, Julien Benneteau, Arnaud Clement, and Fabrice Santoro, this was not a team to be taken lightly. In fact, this was a team that we might not even be able to take. Throw the wildly athletic Guy Monfils in there, and you've got all the elements of a high-wire carnival act.
So, I went online at 10:00am Eastern Time on March 17, as did thousands of others, to purchase my tickets for me and my older brother, Tom, who would be flying in to RDU International in Raleigh on Friday at around noon from his business trip in Kansas City. My first attempt to purchase the tickets through TicketMaster came up empty: I used the drop-down menus to select the "Best Available" seats "At Any Price" (big mistake!) and the Web application came back with $500 tickets. Great seats, I'm sure. But 500 bucks?! Try again.... So I tried the $190 option, but couldn't get two tickets together. Finally, fearing I'd never get anything, I tried the $90-per-seat option, and was successful. Unfortunately, I'd be in the Upper Section again, same as last year.
The good news is there really isn't a poor seat in the house—the Lawrence Joel Veterans Memorial Coliseum, also known as the Winston-Salem Entertainment-Sports Arena, home to the Wake Forest men's basketball team, the Demon Deacons. Steely Dan even wrote a song about them in the 70s. Check it out sometime. "They call me Deacon Blue...".
Anyway, I was getting seriously pumped up for some prime-time tennis with Andy Roddick, James Blake, and the twin towers, Bob and Mike Bryan. Then the bad news trickled in. First, Tsonga pulled out. Then a few days later, Gasquet is sidelined. Holy crap! What just happened? Thankfully I didn't put down 1,000 smackeroos or I'd be one angry baboon.
It's a testament to the depth and heart of the French team that they came out and played some awesome tennis without their two top guns. (Even though Mathieu is ranked one spot above Tsonga, most feel that Tsonga would be a stronger pick on the fast surface.)
On Friday, Mathieu nearly upset No. 8 Blake in a riveting, electrifying five-setter that, in the end, showcased Blake's defensive skills and fearless shotmaking. Down 5-4, 40-15 in the fifth set, Blake made a remarkable return off Mathieu's wide slice serve to the deuce court, which completely opened the court for a winner that was nullified when Blake flew across the baseline and knifed a backhand slice as fine as any I've ever seen in my forty years watching tennis. That save sent the crowd roaring with approval and chants of "U-S-A... U-S-A" and Blake seemed to puff up with confidence as he reeled off huge return after huge return to break Mathieu and get himself back in the match. From that point on, he was a monster, although it still did not come easy, as Mathieu clawed and fought as gamely as any competitor ever has on foreign soil in front of a boisterous home crowd. I don't think there's any argument that on that day Gasquet could not have fought any more gamely than his countryman Mathieu did.
Then, on Saturday, the French team of Llodra and Clement played tactically smart, heads-up tennis to take down the No. 1 doubles team in the world in four sets with the tie on the line. The Bryan brothers came into that match 14-1 in Davis Cup competition, and the doubles point was considered about as "automatic" as in the days of McEnroe-Fleming. That would be John McEnroe, of course. But those of you who know and follow tennis recall that Llodra-Clement had taken down the Bryans in the 2007 Wimbledon final. And Llodra-Benneteau had upset the Bryans in the Las Vegas final earlier this year. What's more, Llodra has captured two titles this year already. This would be anything but automatic.
Here's the way it unfolded, in a nutshell. Bob (the lefty) and Mike (the righty) lined up with their forehands in the center of the court when receiving. Llodra (the lefty) and Clement (the righty) lined up in the traditional formation (a la McEnroe-Fleming), with the lefty wing on the outside of the court covering the ad-court sideline and returning the wide serves with that big hook forehand. I turned to my brother and said that I thought the Bryans would try to serve down the middle and blanket the center, while Llodra and Clement would serve more wide slices and kickers to pull the Bryans off the court and force them to return from their relatively weaker wings, their backhands. As it turned out, this was mostly true, at least when Llodra and Clement were serving.
One factor that no one could have predicted is how well Clement served. Putting in 70% of his first deliveries was huge. As Clement told Justin Gimelstob in his post-match on court interview (and I paraphrase here): "I don't serve so big, so it's important for me to get a good percentage." It began with Clement serving at 3-4 in the first set, as the balls were changed and he served up new ones. With new balls in hand, he hit two aces and held at Love. From there on out, he never looked even remotely vulnerable on his serve. (Perhaps all the talk from partner Llodra about drinking expensive wines after the match kept him loose.) If there was another factor, it was that Clement and Llodra stepped up the power and aggression on their returns, starting in the third set. At one set apiece, they clearly and visibly made an adjustment, deciding to go for bigger returns and take more chances around the net, poaching and feigning whenever possible. In essence, they began looking a lot more like the Bryans than the Bryans. And it paid of in a mighty big way, as we all know.
It was extremely disappointing, though understandable, that the Bryan brothers did not stick around to speak with Gimelstob, whose interview style has gotten a lot more polished, despite the fact that he still looks a little goofy in a suit.
I sold my Sunday tickets to a good friend on the cheap, so that brother Tom and I could play tennis and hang out with my seven-year-old before we had to get to the airport, so I cannot comment on the Sunday matches. You can read the blog of TENNIS Magazine's Peter Bodo (TennisWorld) if you want a more complete breakdown of the weekend's matches.
Let me sign off by sharing this last nugget. I've seen three Davis Cup ties now (2001 versus India, 2007 versus Spain, and 2008 versus France, all in Winston-Salem), and one thing remains constant: expect the unexpected. Look for Andy Roddick and James Blake to each win once, and for the Bryans to tie the winning record of McEnroe and Fleming, on the crushed red brick in Spain.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
So, I went online at 10:00am Eastern Time on March 17, as did thousands of others, to purchase my tickets for me and my older brother, Tom, who would be flying in to RDU International in Raleigh on Friday at around noon from his business trip in Kansas City. My first attempt to purchase the tickets through TicketMaster came up empty: I used the drop-down menus to select the "Best Available" seats "At Any Price" (big mistake!) and the Web application came back with $500 tickets. Great seats, I'm sure. But 500 bucks?! Try again.... So I tried the $190 option, but couldn't get two tickets together. Finally, fearing I'd never get anything, I tried the $90-per-seat option, and was successful. Unfortunately, I'd be in the Upper Section again, same as last year.
The good news is there really isn't a poor seat in the house—the Lawrence Joel Veterans Memorial Coliseum, also known as the Winston-Salem Entertainment-Sports Arena, home to the Wake Forest men's basketball team, the Demon Deacons. Steely Dan even wrote a song about them in the 70s. Check it out sometime. "They call me Deacon Blue...".
Anyway, I was getting seriously pumped up for some prime-time tennis with Andy Roddick, James Blake, and the twin towers, Bob and Mike Bryan. Then the bad news trickled in. First, Tsonga pulled out. Then a few days later, Gasquet is sidelined. Holy crap! What just happened? Thankfully I didn't put down 1,000 smackeroos or I'd be one angry baboon.
It's a testament to the depth and heart of the French team that they came out and played some awesome tennis without their two top guns. (Even though Mathieu is ranked one spot above Tsonga, most feel that Tsonga would be a stronger pick on the fast surface.)
On Friday, Mathieu nearly upset No. 8 Blake in a riveting, electrifying five-setter that, in the end, showcased Blake's defensive skills and fearless shotmaking. Down 5-4, 40-15 in the fifth set, Blake made a remarkable return off Mathieu's wide slice serve to the deuce court, which completely opened the court for a winner that was nullified when Blake flew across the baseline and knifed a backhand slice as fine as any I've ever seen in my forty years watching tennis. That save sent the crowd roaring with approval and chants of "U-S-A... U-S-A" and Blake seemed to puff up with confidence as he reeled off huge return after huge return to break Mathieu and get himself back in the match. From that point on, he was a monster, although it still did not come easy, as Mathieu clawed and fought as gamely as any competitor ever has on foreign soil in front of a boisterous home crowd. I don't think there's any argument that on that day Gasquet could not have fought any more gamely than his countryman Mathieu did.
Then, on Saturday, the French team of Llodra and Clement played tactically smart, heads-up tennis to take down the No. 1 doubles team in the world in four sets with the tie on the line. The Bryan brothers came into that match 14-1 in Davis Cup competition, and the doubles point was considered about as "automatic" as in the days of McEnroe-Fleming. That would be John McEnroe, of course. But those of you who know and follow tennis recall that Llodra-Clement had taken down the Bryans in the 2007 Wimbledon final. And Llodra-Benneteau had upset the Bryans in the Las Vegas final earlier this year. What's more, Llodra has captured two titles this year already. This would be anything but automatic.
Here's the way it unfolded, in a nutshell. Bob (the lefty) and Mike (the righty) lined up with their forehands in the center of the court when receiving. Llodra (the lefty) and Clement (the righty) lined up in the traditional formation (a la McEnroe-Fleming), with the lefty wing on the outside of the court covering the ad-court sideline and returning the wide serves with that big hook forehand. I turned to my brother and said that I thought the Bryans would try to serve down the middle and blanket the center, while Llodra and Clement would serve more wide slices and kickers to pull the Bryans off the court and force them to return from their relatively weaker wings, their backhands. As it turned out, this was mostly true, at least when Llodra and Clement were serving.
One factor that no one could have predicted is how well Clement served. Putting in 70% of his first deliveries was huge. As Clement told Justin Gimelstob in his post-match on court interview (and I paraphrase here): "I don't serve so big, so it's important for me to get a good percentage." It began with Clement serving at 3-4 in the first set, as the balls were changed and he served up new ones. With new balls in hand, he hit two aces and held at Love. From there on out, he never looked even remotely vulnerable on his serve. (Perhaps all the talk from partner Llodra about drinking expensive wines after the match kept him loose.) If there was another factor, it was that Clement and Llodra stepped up the power and aggression on their returns, starting in the third set. At one set apiece, they clearly and visibly made an adjustment, deciding to go for bigger returns and take more chances around the net, poaching and feigning whenever possible. In essence, they began looking a lot more like the Bryans than the Bryans. And it paid of in a mighty big way, as we all know.
It was extremely disappointing, though understandable, that the Bryan brothers did not stick around to speak with Gimelstob, whose interview style has gotten a lot more polished, despite the fact that he still looks a little goofy in a suit.
I sold my Sunday tickets to a good friend on the cheap, so that brother Tom and I could play tennis and hang out with my seven-year-old before we had to get to the airport, so I cannot comment on the Sunday matches. You can read the blog of TENNIS Magazine's Peter Bodo (TennisWorld) if you want a more complete breakdown of the weekend's matches.
Let me sign off by sharing this last nugget. I've seen three Davis Cup ties now (2001 versus India, 2007 versus Spain, and 2008 versus France, all in Winston-Salem), and one thing remains constant: expect the unexpected. Look for Andy Roddick and James Blake to each win once, and for the Bryans to tie the winning record of McEnroe and Fleming, on the crushed red brick in Spain.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
From the land Down Under
There's something about the Australian Open tennis championships at Melbourne Park that inspires me to put digit to keypad, as it were, and hunt-n-peck my way to some sort of resolution. Fitting, then, that it is held in January. In spite of my misgivings about the placement of the season's first Grand Slam on the ATP and WTA calendars, the event never fails to quicken my pulse and give clarity to my thinking.
Perhaps the installation of the Plexicushion surface and the rule changes regarding when the retractable roof over Rod Laver Arena would be closed had an impact, but I was pleasantly surprised to note a reduction in withdrawals, injuries, and retirements due to heat exhaustion or fatigue. Still, I believe the tennis community as a whole — including the pros who compete for this first of the year's major titles — would be better served if the tournament committee would move the Aussie Open out four or five weeks the the last week in February. Holding the AO at that time would have a two-fold positive effect: it would delay the event until early fall, when temperatures wouldn't be so oppressive; and it would open a six- to seven-week window of opportunity for a Pacific Rim or Asia-Pacific Series, taking a page from the highly successful U.S. Open Series notebook.
This latter point should not be so easily dismissed. The U.S. Open Series has clearly generated interest in the hard-court run-ups to the U.S. Open at the end of August. ATP events in Los Angeles, Washington, Toronto/Montreal, Cincinnati and elsewhere have seen record attendance, as well as commitments from most of the top players. It's not too much of a stretch to say that the record-breaking attendance numbers at the U.S. Open in 2006 and 2007 were a byproduct of the Series and its marketing. USTA past president Arlen Kantarian and current president Jane Brown Grimes thinks so, anyway.
And the Australian Open was at one time played in December; it was the last Grand Slam of the season, not the first that it is today. If you'll recall, that was one of the main reasons that Bjorn Borg stopped making the trek to the land Down Under, having failed time and again to win the U.S. Open, thereby making a calendar-year Grand Slam impossible. So, this blind allegiance to the January schedule is not a long-standing tradition. There is precedent for it to be otherwise.
All this being true, the tournament committee and Tennis Australia's governing body have a few good arguments to support keeping things the way they are. Attendance for this year's Aussie Open exceeded that of all others previous, reaching more than 600,000 for the fortnight and rivaling the U.S. Open numbers. In addition, holding the Aussie open in the summer months when schools are not in session allows more yong fans and families to attend the matches at Melbourne Park. Australia's version of Labor Day even falls on the last weekend of the tournament.
Still, I cannot help but think that pushing the major to late February has overwhelming merit. It would allow Tennis Australia to truly capitalize on the "Grand Slam of the Asia-Pacific" slogan and maximize the marketing value of this great event. It would provide a meaningful context for other large-venue Tier 1 and Tier 2 events in Japan, China and throughout Southeast Asia and Indonesia, and give the Australian Open the added import of being a culminating event. I'm quite sure that with what the Aussie Open has going for it — its rich history, its importance as the year's first Slam, the beauty of the venue and region, and the intelligence of its marketing and planning committees, fans will continue to flock there for years to come.
Or, at least until its current contract expires or its major sponsor, Kia Motors, redirects its entertainment dollars.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Perhaps the installation of the Plexicushion surface and the rule changes regarding when the retractable roof over Rod Laver Arena would be closed had an impact, but I was pleasantly surprised to note a reduction in withdrawals, injuries, and retirements due to heat exhaustion or fatigue. Still, I believe the tennis community as a whole — including the pros who compete for this first of the year's major titles — would be better served if the tournament committee would move the Aussie Open out four or five weeks the the last week in February. Holding the AO at that time would have a two-fold positive effect: it would delay the event until early fall, when temperatures wouldn't be so oppressive; and it would open a six- to seven-week window of opportunity for a Pacific Rim or Asia-Pacific Series, taking a page from the highly successful U.S. Open Series notebook.
This latter point should not be so easily dismissed. The U.S. Open Series has clearly generated interest in the hard-court run-ups to the U.S. Open at the end of August. ATP events in Los Angeles, Washington, Toronto/Montreal, Cincinnati and elsewhere have seen record attendance, as well as commitments from most of the top players. It's not too much of a stretch to say that the record-breaking attendance numbers at the U.S. Open in 2006 and 2007 were a byproduct of the Series and its marketing. USTA past president Arlen Kantarian and current president Jane Brown Grimes thinks so, anyway.
And the Australian Open was at one time played in December; it was the last Grand Slam of the season, not the first that it is today. If you'll recall, that was one of the main reasons that Bjorn Borg stopped making the trek to the land Down Under, having failed time and again to win the U.S. Open, thereby making a calendar-year Grand Slam impossible. So, this blind allegiance to the January schedule is not a long-standing tradition. There is precedent for it to be otherwise.
All this being true, the tournament committee and Tennis Australia's governing body have a few good arguments to support keeping things the way they are. Attendance for this year's Aussie Open exceeded that of all others previous, reaching more than 600,000 for the fortnight and rivaling the U.S. Open numbers. In addition, holding the Aussie open in the summer months when schools are not in session allows more yong fans and families to attend the matches at Melbourne Park. Australia's version of Labor Day even falls on the last weekend of the tournament.
Still, I cannot help but think that pushing the major to late February has overwhelming merit. It would allow Tennis Australia to truly capitalize on the "Grand Slam of the Asia-Pacific" slogan and maximize the marketing value of this great event. It would provide a meaningful context for other large-venue Tier 1 and Tier 2 events in Japan, China and throughout Southeast Asia and Indonesia, and give the Australian Open the added import of being a culminating event. I'm quite sure that with what the Aussie Open has going for it — its rich history, its importance as the year's first Slam, the beauty of the venue and region, and the intelligence of its marketing and planning committees, fans will continue to flock there for years to come.
Or, at least until its current contract expires or its major sponsor, Kia Motors, redirects its entertainment dollars.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Davis Cup, North Carolina Style (Day 1)
The last time North Carolina hosted the Davis Cup was in 2001, when the U.S. squad defeated India to stay in the World Group. On April 6, 2007, the USTA and Captain Patrick McEnroe brought the American squad back to Winston-Salem to use a home-court advantage against the perennially successful Spaniards.
Winston-Salem, at one time most recognized as the home of R.J. Reynolds Co. and the birthplace of famous cigarette brands such as Winston and Salem, is now a cozy town known for its Wake Forest University basketball and the world-renowned Bowman-Grey Medical Center. It's situated about two hours due west of the state capital, Raleigh, along a stretch of Interstate 40 that is just plain weird. Between Durham and Winston-Salem are towns like Burlington, with its many factory-direct shops, its factory irregulars, and its china replacement megastore; Greensboro, which is best remembered for its clash between some members of the Ku Klux Klan and the Communist Party, which ended in a police intervention and several dead; and High Point, former world center of furniture (it's quickly being eclipsed by the big monied and convention-friendly Las Vegas). Also along the road to Winston-Salem, you'll find such oddities as a Dockside Dolls strip joint sharing a parking lot with a Life Fellowship Baptist church. Actually, in North Carolina, that's not all that odd.
The Davis Cup tie is being held at the Lawrence Joel Veterans Memorial Coliseum, where the Demon Deacons play basketball. It seats about 14,500, and we've got a full house. The event sold out in three days.
The Demon Deacs, as they're called by the locals, used to hail from a small hamlet just north of Raleigh on N.C. Route 1 called Wake Forest. It began as a seminary, and when the school grew into a college, it relocated to Winston-Salem. Wake Forest still has the seminary, now called the Southeastern Baptist Seminary, a quaint campus on a hill of orange brick buildings in the Classical Revival style, I believe. I forgot to mention that this part of North Carolina, known as the Piedmont, is also known for its red clay soil and consequently its brick manufacturing.
I arrive at the coliseum, which is smack dab in the middle of nowhere — actually, it's part of the fairgrounds — a bit early to see what I can take in. Apparently, not early enough to catch Andy Roddick's practice session, but early enough to meet a home-grown celebrity of sorts — Elizabeth "Lizzie" Horton, Miss North Carolina. Lizzie, tiara and all, hails from High Point and is there to sing the National Anthem. She's a cute, pixie-like young woman who claims to have played on her high school tennis team. She's enrolled at Johns Hopkins University, and has a dual major in vocal performance and something or other. Later, after she has belted out the Star Spangled Banner, I find her soaking in the action through my binoculars.
Next I watch Fernando Verdasco practice. He's got good wheels (must be a Spanish thing, because they all do), a huge roundhouse forehand, and a solid, flat two-handed backhand. He can blast a flat first serve, which is dart-like but doesn't look as heavy as Blake's or Roddick's, of course. I'm a bit surprised by his volleys, however. He seems to get a late start with his footwork, and often lets his elbow collapse behind him on his forehand wing. A decent teaching pro would make him drill endlessly until he learned to keep that elbow in front of his belly button.
I'm in the Upper Level, Section 213, Row P, Seat 1. It's only a half-dozen rows below the roof line, but there's not a bad seat in the house, except the first three rows of the Upper Level, which are partially obstructed by a metal rail and a translucent plexiglas.
Before the action starts, I go to get my requisite hot dog, peanuts and tasteless beer, where I spot a couple of young guys juggling plastic bowling pins. They're sending them back and forth in a rapid volley, and have perfected an impressive move in which, while facing each other, one guy flips a pin around his leg while the other flips it between his legs. I show them the Roddick 'Tweener, and will check back today and Sunday to see if they've mastered it. I promise a picture if they do.
I get back to my seat in time to see the next pre-match activity, the Calypso Tumblers. This group of five black performers does amazing things with their bodies, and thoroughly entertains the crowd. I wonder, though, why the USTA doesn't come up with some sort of traveling tennis show, either with kids or with a small troupe of athletes that could showcase some of the exciting things we're about to witness, except in a super-lively, acrobatic manner a la Ringling Brothers or Harlem Globetrotters.
Next, the teams are introduced. The Spanish captain has decided to put Tommy Robredo and Fernando Verdasco in the singles, while Captain McEnroe goes with his two studs, Roddick and James Blake. The twin towers, Bob and Mike Bryan, wil take on Verdasco and Feliciano Lopez, who I must say is not as handsome in person as he is pretty.
The play itself is a bit pedestrian on this day, I think, except for Blake's performance. James comes out fired up and ready to play in the first match, looking a bit like Nadal as he bounces on his toes and then dashes back to the baseline to start the warm-up. You can sense that he's hungry for a win; God only knows he needs one.
Robredo is silky smooth, with his relaxed and easy strokes off both sides. As the match wears on, though, I notice that Disco Tommy is never able to really crank it up when needed. He hurts you mostly with his disguise. He has the classic windshield-wiper forehand, and in his case he never ever breaks his wrist. He cocks it back and up, and it stays rigid throughout the stroke, hence he is not able to get that extra bit of leverage, or pop, from a good wrist snap. Robredo doesn't really extend toward the target on either side; his racquet path is perfectly circular. I think that's his weakness. That, and the fact that, despite his quickness, he doesn't play a very good defensive game on this day. He's far better off when dictating play and his opponent is on the run and guessing which way the ball will come next. At that he is pure genius.
Robredo won the toss and elected to receive. Despite frittering away a 40-love lead on serve at 3 games apiece, Blake fights for his hold and breaks Robredo at 5-4 to take the first set. And that is essentially the match, as Blake overpowered Robredo time and again with his serve and forehand on the slick, rubberized surface. Robredo's first serve is actually quite good, but he made the mistake of going to Blake's forehand a few too many times; his second delivery lacks the power or kick (at least on this seemingly deadening surface) to hurt anyone.
To his credit, James held his errors to a minimum, and he used his head well, rarely playing a numbskulled shot or going for broke too early, as he is prone to do. I was impressed with his performance, as was the packed house who cheered him wildly. One thing about Davis Cup that is unlike any other tennis match, is that it's alright to cheer the opposing team's error and to be unashamedly biased. It's a weird departure for me, but I get into costume quickly. The most effective ploy the home crowd can employ is to remain utterly silent when an opposing player makes a good play. It must be feel terribly lonely out there.
Next up, Roddick and Verdasco. This kid Verdasco, ranked number 35, is a terrific athlete, but his swagger is too evident, even from Section 213, Row P. It's not wise to strut around in Roddick's face; it just makes him angry. Verdasco actually played a brilliant first set; well, almost. He was up 5-3 and blew it, seving an ace, two double faults, another ace, then shanking a forehand into the stands behind Roddick, and finally missing wide with a forehand down the line. That's all Roddick needed to make it clear Verdasco was a lot more swagger than he was confident and capable. Roddick never looked back. And despite having a very nice first serve — he ended up with 14 aces — Verdasco double-faulted often and seemed to wilt when it counted most. For his part, Roddick didn't play brilliantly, and seemed to be content roaming the backcourt some six to eight feet behind the baseline. He needs to step up for his forehand to be the weapon it can be.
Other notable attractions were the brass band that played loudly and often, a Blake contingent in the Upper Level that were all wearing blue and had some makeshift drums, and a large band of Spanish hopefuls in red behind their team. Every time they tried to whoop it up and make some noise with their cow bells and rattles, the PA system would drown them out with some American rock'n'roll.
There's a strong contingent from Raleigh, and I will try to get a few pictures. I did run into a small group from Down East — the Greenville, Wilson, Rocky Mount area, and hope to see them again on Day 2.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Winston-Salem, at one time most recognized as the home of R.J. Reynolds Co. and the birthplace of famous cigarette brands such as Winston and Salem, is now a cozy town known for its Wake Forest University basketball and the world-renowned Bowman-Grey Medical Center. It's situated about two hours due west of the state capital, Raleigh, along a stretch of Interstate 40 that is just plain weird. Between Durham and Winston-Salem are towns like Burlington, with its many factory-direct shops, its factory irregulars, and its china replacement megastore; Greensboro, which is best remembered for its clash between some members of the Ku Klux Klan and the Communist Party, which ended in a police intervention and several dead; and High Point, former world center of furniture (it's quickly being eclipsed by the big monied and convention-friendly Las Vegas). Also along the road to Winston-Salem, you'll find such oddities as a Dockside Dolls strip joint sharing a parking lot with a Life Fellowship Baptist church. Actually, in North Carolina, that's not all that odd.
The Davis Cup tie is being held at the Lawrence Joel Veterans Memorial Coliseum, where the Demon Deacons play basketball. It seats about 14,500, and we've got a full house. The event sold out in three days.
The Demon Deacs, as they're called by the locals, used to hail from a small hamlet just north of Raleigh on N.C. Route 1 called Wake Forest. It began as a seminary, and when the school grew into a college, it relocated to Winston-Salem. Wake Forest still has the seminary, now called the Southeastern Baptist Seminary, a quaint campus on a hill of orange brick buildings in the Classical Revival style, I believe. I forgot to mention that this part of North Carolina, known as the Piedmont, is also known for its red clay soil and consequently its brick manufacturing.
I arrive at the coliseum, which is smack dab in the middle of nowhere — actually, it's part of the fairgrounds — a bit early to see what I can take in. Apparently, not early enough to catch Andy Roddick's practice session, but early enough to meet a home-grown celebrity of sorts — Elizabeth "Lizzie" Horton, Miss North Carolina. Lizzie, tiara and all, hails from High Point and is there to sing the National Anthem. She's a cute, pixie-like young woman who claims to have played on her high school tennis team. She's enrolled at Johns Hopkins University, and has a dual major in vocal performance and something or other. Later, after she has belted out the Star Spangled Banner, I find her soaking in the action through my binoculars.
Next I watch Fernando Verdasco practice. He's got good wheels (must be a Spanish thing, because they all do), a huge roundhouse forehand, and a solid, flat two-handed backhand. He can blast a flat first serve, which is dart-like but doesn't look as heavy as Blake's or Roddick's, of course. I'm a bit surprised by his volleys, however. He seems to get a late start with his footwork, and often lets his elbow collapse behind him on his forehand wing. A decent teaching pro would make him drill endlessly until he learned to keep that elbow in front of his belly button.
I'm in the Upper Level, Section 213, Row P, Seat 1. It's only a half-dozen rows below the roof line, but there's not a bad seat in the house, except the first three rows of the Upper Level, which are partially obstructed by a metal rail and a translucent plexiglas.
Before the action starts, I go to get my requisite hot dog, peanuts and tasteless beer, where I spot a couple of young guys juggling plastic bowling pins. They're sending them back and forth in a rapid volley, and have perfected an impressive move in which, while facing each other, one guy flips a pin around his leg while the other flips it between his legs. I show them the Roddick 'Tweener, and will check back today and Sunday to see if they've mastered it. I promise a picture if they do.
I get back to my seat in time to see the next pre-match activity, the Calypso Tumblers. This group of five black performers does amazing things with their bodies, and thoroughly entertains the crowd. I wonder, though, why the USTA doesn't come up with some sort of traveling tennis show, either with kids or with a small troupe of athletes that could showcase some of the exciting things we're about to witness, except in a super-lively, acrobatic manner a la Ringling Brothers or Harlem Globetrotters.
Next, the teams are introduced. The Spanish captain has decided to put Tommy Robredo and Fernando Verdasco in the singles, while Captain McEnroe goes with his two studs, Roddick and James Blake. The twin towers, Bob and Mike Bryan, wil take on Verdasco and Feliciano Lopez, who I must say is not as handsome in person as he is pretty.
The play itself is a bit pedestrian on this day, I think, except for Blake's performance. James comes out fired up and ready to play in the first match, looking a bit like Nadal as he bounces on his toes and then dashes back to the baseline to start the warm-up. You can sense that he's hungry for a win; God only knows he needs one.
Robredo is silky smooth, with his relaxed and easy strokes off both sides. As the match wears on, though, I notice that Disco Tommy is never able to really crank it up when needed. He hurts you mostly with his disguise. He has the classic windshield-wiper forehand, and in his case he never ever breaks his wrist. He cocks it back and up, and it stays rigid throughout the stroke, hence he is not able to get that extra bit of leverage, or pop, from a good wrist snap. Robredo doesn't really extend toward the target on either side; his racquet path is perfectly circular. I think that's his weakness. That, and the fact that, despite his quickness, he doesn't play a very good defensive game on this day. He's far better off when dictating play and his opponent is on the run and guessing which way the ball will come next. At that he is pure genius.
Robredo won the toss and elected to receive. Despite frittering away a 40-love lead on serve at 3 games apiece, Blake fights for his hold and breaks Robredo at 5-4 to take the first set. And that is essentially the match, as Blake overpowered Robredo time and again with his serve and forehand on the slick, rubberized surface. Robredo's first serve is actually quite good, but he made the mistake of going to Blake's forehand a few too many times; his second delivery lacks the power or kick (at least on this seemingly deadening surface) to hurt anyone.
To his credit, James held his errors to a minimum, and he used his head well, rarely playing a numbskulled shot or going for broke too early, as he is prone to do. I was impressed with his performance, as was the packed house who cheered him wildly. One thing about Davis Cup that is unlike any other tennis match, is that it's alright to cheer the opposing team's error and to be unashamedly biased. It's a weird departure for me, but I get into costume quickly. The most effective ploy the home crowd can employ is to remain utterly silent when an opposing player makes a good play. It must be feel terribly lonely out there.
Next up, Roddick and Verdasco. This kid Verdasco, ranked number 35, is a terrific athlete, but his swagger is too evident, even from Section 213, Row P. It's not wise to strut around in Roddick's face; it just makes him angry. Verdasco actually played a brilliant first set; well, almost. He was up 5-3 and blew it, seving an ace, two double faults, another ace, then shanking a forehand into the stands behind Roddick, and finally missing wide with a forehand down the line. That's all Roddick needed to make it clear Verdasco was a lot more swagger than he was confident and capable. Roddick never looked back. And despite having a very nice first serve — he ended up with 14 aces — Verdasco double-faulted often and seemed to wilt when it counted most. For his part, Roddick didn't play brilliantly, and seemed to be content roaming the backcourt some six to eight feet behind the baseline. He needs to step up for his forehand to be the weapon it can be.
Other notable attractions were the brass band that played loudly and often, a Blake contingent in the Upper Level that were all wearing blue and had some makeshift drums, and a large band of Spanish hopefuls in red behind their team. Every time they tried to whoop it up and make some noise with their cow bells and rattles, the PA system would drown them out with some American rock'n'roll.
There's a strong contingent from Raleigh, and I will try to get a few pictures. I did run into a small group from Down East — the Greenville, Wilson, Rocky Mount area, and hope to see them again on Day 2.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
USTA finally gets it (right)!
I've been away too long, I know; it's good to be back. I experienced a natural post-Australian Open malaise, which sapped me of my will to post. And then, starting a new and demanding job in January, in which I spend my day researching, writing and editing, has left me too drained to write during my evening down-time. But something occurred recently that has roused the rumpel in my stiltskin: the USTA has announced its new ad campaign approach and launch strategy for the 2007 U.S. Open Series. You know, the six-week, 10-tournament lead-up to the U.S. Open Championships in New York, also touted as "The Greatest Road Trip in Sports" by the USTA marketing execs.
What's got me fired up is the fact that the USTA marketing geniuses (a term I used derisively in a post a few months ago) have finally got it right. More to the point, they finally "get" it! If you'll recall, last year, the second year of the U.S. Open Series, the "geniuses" strained their brains to come up with an ad campaign (print and TV) that proudly touted the prize the players were competing for as $2 million and change. That's 200-plus athletes competing in 10 events over six weeks for a mere $2 million, according to the geniuses. If you heard or saw it, you probably thought, like me, that you're a lot better off keeping your lousy day job. I mean, doing the math yielded on average about $10,000 to each athlete. Some high stakes, huh?
Didn't the geniuses realize that athletes with names like Kobe Bryant and Alex Rodriguez earn that much per minute on the court and field? It was nothing short of an insult to the players and an affront to fans. What's worse, it was wrong! Yes, it was inaccurate. The geniuses had chosen, for some reason no marketeer worth his salt could ever fathom, to advertise the prize potential of only the Series point leader, should that same individual hoist the singles trophy in New York. But the actual total prize value on the line was something like $31 million. Now that figure might have turned a few heads, and earned the sport a little respect!
So it is with great pleasure (and some pride) that I can tell you that the USTA marketing geniuses have seen the error of their past ways and have redeemed themselves in 2007. Here is a snippet from the 2007 U.S. Open Series Ad Campaign article currently appearing on the USTA website:
"The campaign’s tagline - - 'The Greatest Road Trip in Sports…. 6 Weeks, 10 Tournaments, $30 Million On The Line.' - - communicates the essence of the US Open Series...".
And there you have it ... $30 million ... all is well with the world again. I'd like to think I had a hand in bringing the geniuses around, as I had written them directly in 2006 to admonish them, as well as having posted here under the title, 2006 US Open Series miscalculation. Who knows what forces move the geniuses. Whatever or whoever they are, let's hope the geniuses continue to be moved in a positive direction. Our sport needs a little boost from time to time, and the U.S. Open Series is undoubtedly the most visible (and marketable) "event" in tennis today, eclipsing even the fabled Wimbledon. That makes "The Greatest Road Trip in Sports" the perfect place for tennis to put her best foot forward. No more excuses!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
What's got me fired up is the fact that the USTA marketing geniuses (a term I used derisively in a post a few months ago) have finally got it right. More to the point, they finally "get" it! If you'll recall, last year, the second year of the U.S. Open Series, the "geniuses" strained their brains to come up with an ad campaign (print and TV) that proudly touted the prize the players were competing for as $2 million and change. That's 200-plus athletes competing in 10 events over six weeks for a mere $2 million, according to the geniuses. If you heard or saw it, you probably thought, like me, that you're a lot better off keeping your lousy day job. I mean, doing the math yielded on average about $10,000 to each athlete. Some high stakes, huh?
Didn't the geniuses realize that athletes with names like Kobe Bryant and Alex Rodriguez earn that much per minute on the court and field? It was nothing short of an insult to the players and an affront to fans. What's worse, it was wrong! Yes, it was inaccurate. The geniuses had chosen, for some reason no marketeer worth his salt could ever fathom, to advertise the prize potential of only the Series point leader, should that same individual hoist the singles trophy in New York. But the actual total prize value on the line was something like $31 million. Now that figure might have turned a few heads, and earned the sport a little respect!
So it is with great pleasure (and some pride) that I can tell you that the USTA marketing geniuses have seen the error of their past ways and have redeemed themselves in 2007. Here is a snippet from the 2007 U.S. Open Series Ad Campaign article currently appearing on the USTA website:
"The campaign’s tagline - - 'The Greatest Road Trip in Sports…. 6 Weeks, 10 Tournaments, $30 Million On The Line.' - - communicates the essence of the US Open Series...".
And there you have it ... $30 million ... all is well with the world again. I'd like to think I had a hand in bringing the geniuses around, as I had written them directly in 2006 to admonish them, as well as having posted here under the title, 2006 US Open Series miscalculation. Who knows what forces move the geniuses. Whatever or whoever they are, let's hope the geniuses continue to be moved in a positive direction. Our sport needs a little boost from time to time, and the U.S. Open Series is undoubtedly the most visible (and marketable) "event" in tennis today, eclipsing even the fabled Wimbledon. That makes "The Greatest Road Trip in Sports" the perfect place for tennis to put her best foot forward. No more excuses!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Aussie Open 2007: what a ride!
The 2007 Australian Open was, for me, a story about the game's two best athletes showing the world what they're made of — Roger Federer and Serena Williams, two Grand Slam veterans at ripe old age of 25. The way they each dominated in their final is a testament to their skills and fierce desire to win. But the differences between the manner in which they go about making their living and their mark is striking.
Roger Federer, the clear favorite among the men, came into the Aussie Open (Oz) poised to surpass Jimmy Connors on the consecutive-weeks at-number 1 list, leaving only Ivan Lendl and Pete Sampras standing on a higher rung. Holder of 45 ATP tour titles, including nine Grand Slam titles, three Year-End Championships (Masters Cups) and 12 Masters Series events, his story was about whether he would continue to demonstrate the greatness we've come to expect and perhaps, take for granted. Inevitably, the talk at Oz, as everywhere he now plays, was whether Roger Federer would move one step closer to claiming the title of Greatest Of All Time (aka GOAT), or whether the pressure would overwhelm him as he succumbed to one of the hungry young lions, such as Rafael Nadal or Andy Murray, both of whom had beaten him in 2006. Or would Andy Roddick, working with Jimmy Connors to "close the gap" between himself and Roger, be able to build on his near-upset of Federer at the 2006 Masters Cup in Shanghai and his straight-sets exhibition win over the world's number 1 in Kooyong. To put it more succinctly, the story was whether Federer could live up to his own, and our, expectations.
When the curtain was pulled back at Oz, it revealed a real champion and man on a mission, an athlete as large in life as the image the tennis world projects of him. A man who has coe to appreciate his moment with a grace and humility that harkens back to the champions of old. He deigned to predict his title run, giving much air time in his run to the final to how well each of his opponents had been playing and how nervous he would be entering their match. Federer spoke o Roddick's improvements since his run at Cincinnati, and the fear his huge serve instilled. He spoke of Gonzalez's new-found judiciousness, and the effectiveness of his ballistic forehand. All this made for high drama going into each match; the expectations were set for some real throw-downs. But in the end, Federer threw down the hype and dispensed with his opponents, all seven of them, in straight sets. His only real scare came from Gonzalez, who held a double-set point serving 5-4, 40-15 in the first set of the final.
In the past, Gonzalez might be counted on to go for broke on both points, hoping to pull something special from his bag of tricks. Instead, he played within himself on the first point, staying back and looking forthe right opportunity to unleash the monster forehand. I was Federer who took the risk and came in behind an approach to the Gonzalez backhand. Gonzo hit a very respectable dipping pass at the left hip of Federer, who blocked it into the deuce-court corner. On the dead run, Gonzo had a split second to make the right play. He chose to go for the cross-court dipping pass, but his attempt didn't go quite far enough cross court and it sat up a bit for Federer to block into the open court — one set point gone, 40-30 Gonzalez. Had Gonzo curled his forehand down the line, which would have been more in keeping with his high-risk mentality of old, he might well have passed Federer outright or gotten a volley that he could have punched past Roger for the set.
On the 40-30 point, the two men exchanged backhands until Federer took the initiative and found the sharp angle to the ad court. Gonzo elected to run around that shot and, with one foot in and one foot outside the doubles alley, send a forehand bullet down the line for the set. But he missed into the net, and the game as sent to deuce. What was telling in these pivotal moments was that Federer took the initiative and played pre-emptive strike tennis, aproaching the net on the first of the two set points, and opening up the court with the angled backhand in the second. Gonzalex was left playing reactive tennis, which is not the game he wanted to play against Federer.
It was like this throughout the tounrament, although Federer clearly stepped up his attacks in the final in order to stymie Gonzalez's devastating striking power. By taking the initiative and playing pre-emptive strike tennis, Federer took away Gonzalez' one hope of winning, which was to wait for a ball he could drill and seize that moment, taking Roger out of the play quickly and decisively. But Roger turned the tables, showing again why he is the best player in the game and how he finds ways to widen the gap between himself and the rest of the field.
On the women's side, the story took some time to develop. First there was the talk of Justine Henin-Hardenne's withdrawal due to family matters, opening the door for Grand Slam champions Amelie Mauresmo and Maria Sharapova. Then there was Kim Clijsters and her farewell tour — would she, could she, finally hoist the trophy in her adoptive home? With Davenport effectively retired, Venus Williams out with a wrist injury, and Serena out of shape and out of practice, the road to glory seemed set for one of the young warriors -- the hard-hitting 17-year-old Nicole Vaidisova from the Czech Republic, the athletic Ana Ivanovic of Serbia, or the fearlessly confident Jelena Jankovic of Croatia. Or perhaps the talented Nadia Petrova, the best player in the women's field to have never won a Slam, would finally have her day in the sun.
Serena defeated seeded Mara Santangelo in the first round, Mauresmo was ousted in the fourth, and Ivanovic self-destructed. Serena then roared back from the brink of defeat to dismantle the heavily favored Petrova in three sets. And that's when the tournament was decided — right then and there. But of course, no one knew it yet but Serena. She had found her desire, her insatiable hunger to win, to prove wrong all the doubters and naysayers who had said she was not fit enough to play the tournament in the Aussie summer sun, let alone be a serious threat to win. She then took down Jankovic quickly in two in the fourth round and staved off an emboldened Shahar Peer in the quarterfinals. The teenager from Israel played fearless tennis against the mighty lioness for three sets, more fight than anyone lse had been able to muster. If that win caused some to double their bets against Serena, it onlycaused Serena to redouble her efforts in the semifinal against Vaidisova, whose power Serena in turns absorbed and reflected to walk away a two-sets victor.
Set to face the hard-hitting Sharapova in the final, the lioness could sense the moment was ripe for a quick kill. Serena came out ready to do battle. She maintained a focus and intensity from the first point onward that the world has rarely seen from her. Normally a towering, if slender, figure on the court, Sharapova looked like a shrinking violet next to the super-pumped Serena. Dozens of points ended with one swing of Serena's racquet. One strangely telling statistic from the match was the relative few unforced errors from Sharapova. She simply never got a chance to touch the ball, as Serena pounced on shot after shot after shot, and served ace after ace. Serving for the match, Serena hit two 122 mph aces to earn her first and only match point at 40-love, at which time she went for an ace to the wide sideline in the ad court, barely missing. On her secind delivery, Serena went for the ace up the T, clocking it at over 100 mh and forcing Sharapova to hit a weak return that Serena made good on.
Serena's Oz story was that of the lioness who showed she had the courage and the heart to overcome all challenges in displaying some of her finest tennis against the greatest odds, despite not being anywhere near her physical peak. She showed us all that there's much more to tennis than hitting a ball. She showed us that when there's a deep hunger and a strong will to win, there are no boundaries to what the great athletes can achieve. Serena Williams confirmed that she is still the best athlete in the women's game, and she made a convincing argument for being the most skilled tennis player in the women's game. She made it clear why her presence is so desperately needed on the WTA tour. She roared, and we stood and took notice.
In her press conferences, both during and after the event, Serena made it clear she feels she can beat any woman on the tour if she's playing at even 50- to 60-percent of her ful potential. She also made it clear she had come to Melbourne to win, and that it wouldn't be a surprise were she to make a run to the final. On can only infer that she clearly thinks of herself as the best in the game; that, barring injuries and other distractions, hen she wants to win she wins. Period. Serena Williams possesses a little bit of Muhammad Ali in her pronouncements of greatness, yet she exhibits none of the verbal flair or eye-winking self-mockery that Ali was famous for and which took the edge off of his grand pronouncements.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Roger Federer, the clear favorite among the men, came into the Aussie Open (Oz) poised to surpass Jimmy Connors on the consecutive-weeks at-number 1 list, leaving only Ivan Lendl and Pete Sampras standing on a higher rung. Holder of 45 ATP tour titles, including nine Grand Slam titles, three Year-End Championships (Masters Cups) and 12 Masters Series events, his story was about whether he would continue to demonstrate the greatness we've come to expect and perhaps, take for granted. Inevitably, the talk at Oz, as everywhere he now plays, was whether Roger Federer would move one step closer to claiming the title of Greatest Of All Time (aka GOAT), or whether the pressure would overwhelm him as he succumbed to one of the hungry young lions, such as Rafael Nadal or Andy Murray, both of whom had beaten him in 2006. Or would Andy Roddick, working with Jimmy Connors to "close the gap" between himself and Roger, be able to build on his near-upset of Federer at the 2006 Masters Cup in Shanghai and his straight-sets exhibition win over the world's number 1 in Kooyong. To put it more succinctly, the story was whether Federer could live up to his own, and our, expectations.
When the curtain was pulled back at Oz, it revealed a real champion and man on a mission, an athlete as large in life as the image the tennis world projects of him. A man who has coe to appreciate his moment with a grace and humility that harkens back to the champions of old. He deigned to predict his title run, giving much air time in his run to the final to how well each of his opponents had been playing and how nervous he would be entering their match. Federer spoke o Roddick's improvements since his run at Cincinnati, and the fear his huge serve instilled. He spoke of Gonzalez's new-found judiciousness, and the effectiveness of his ballistic forehand. All this made for high drama going into each match; the expectations were set for some real throw-downs. But in the end, Federer threw down the hype and dispensed with his opponents, all seven of them, in straight sets. His only real scare came from Gonzalez, who held a double-set point serving 5-4, 40-15 in the first set of the final.
In the past, Gonzalez might be counted on to go for broke on both points, hoping to pull something special from his bag of tricks. Instead, he played within himself on the first point, staying back and looking forthe right opportunity to unleash the monster forehand. I was Federer who took the risk and came in behind an approach to the Gonzalez backhand. Gonzo hit a very respectable dipping pass at the left hip of Federer, who blocked it into the deuce-court corner. On the dead run, Gonzo had a split second to make the right play. He chose to go for the cross-court dipping pass, but his attempt didn't go quite far enough cross court and it sat up a bit for Federer to block into the open court — one set point gone, 40-30 Gonzalez. Had Gonzo curled his forehand down the line, which would have been more in keeping with his high-risk mentality of old, he might well have passed Federer outright or gotten a volley that he could have punched past Roger for the set.
On the 40-30 point, the two men exchanged backhands until Federer took the initiative and found the sharp angle to the ad court. Gonzo elected to run around that shot and, with one foot in and one foot outside the doubles alley, send a forehand bullet down the line for the set. But he missed into the net, and the game as sent to deuce. What was telling in these pivotal moments was that Federer took the initiative and played pre-emptive strike tennis, aproaching the net on the first of the two set points, and opening up the court with the angled backhand in the second. Gonzalex was left playing reactive tennis, which is not the game he wanted to play against Federer.
It was like this throughout the tounrament, although Federer clearly stepped up his attacks in the final in order to stymie Gonzalez's devastating striking power. By taking the initiative and playing pre-emptive strike tennis, Federer took away Gonzalez' one hope of winning, which was to wait for a ball he could drill and seize that moment, taking Roger out of the play quickly and decisively. But Roger turned the tables, showing again why he is the best player in the game and how he finds ways to widen the gap between himself and the rest of the field.
On the women's side, the story took some time to develop. First there was the talk of Justine Henin-Hardenne's withdrawal due to family matters, opening the door for Grand Slam champions Amelie Mauresmo and Maria Sharapova. Then there was Kim Clijsters and her farewell tour — would she, could she, finally hoist the trophy in her adoptive home? With Davenport effectively retired, Venus Williams out with a wrist injury, and Serena out of shape and out of practice, the road to glory seemed set for one of the young warriors -- the hard-hitting 17-year-old Nicole Vaidisova from the Czech Republic, the athletic Ana Ivanovic of Serbia, or the fearlessly confident Jelena Jankovic of Croatia. Or perhaps the talented Nadia Petrova, the best player in the women's field to have never won a Slam, would finally have her day in the sun.
Serena defeated seeded Mara Santangelo in the first round, Mauresmo was ousted in the fourth, and Ivanovic self-destructed. Serena then roared back from the brink of defeat to dismantle the heavily favored Petrova in three sets. And that's when the tournament was decided — right then and there. But of course, no one knew it yet but Serena. She had found her desire, her insatiable hunger to win, to prove wrong all the doubters and naysayers who had said she was not fit enough to play the tournament in the Aussie summer sun, let alone be a serious threat to win. She then took down Jankovic quickly in two in the fourth round and staved off an emboldened Shahar Peer in the quarterfinals. The teenager from Israel played fearless tennis against the mighty lioness for three sets, more fight than anyone lse had been able to muster. If that win caused some to double their bets against Serena, it onlycaused Serena to redouble her efforts in the semifinal against Vaidisova, whose power Serena in turns absorbed and reflected to walk away a two-sets victor.
Set to face the hard-hitting Sharapova in the final, the lioness could sense the moment was ripe for a quick kill. Serena came out ready to do battle. She maintained a focus and intensity from the first point onward that the world has rarely seen from her. Normally a towering, if slender, figure on the court, Sharapova looked like a shrinking violet next to the super-pumped Serena. Dozens of points ended with one swing of Serena's racquet. One strangely telling statistic from the match was the relative few unforced errors from Sharapova. She simply never got a chance to touch the ball, as Serena pounced on shot after shot after shot, and served ace after ace. Serving for the match, Serena hit two 122 mph aces to earn her first and only match point at 40-love, at which time she went for an ace to the wide sideline in the ad court, barely missing. On her secind delivery, Serena went for the ace up the T, clocking it at over 100 mh and forcing Sharapova to hit a weak return that Serena made good on.
Serena's Oz story was that of the lioness who showed she had the courage and the heart to overcome all challenges in displaying some of her finest tennis against the greatest odds, despite not being anywhere near her physical peak. She showed us all that there's much more to tennis than hitting a ball. She showed us that when there's a deep hunger and a strong will to win, there are no boundaries to what the great athletes can achieve. Serena Williams confirmed that she is still the best athlete in the women's game, and she made a convincing argument for being the most skilled tennis player in the women's game. She made it clear why her presence is so desperately needed on the WTA tour. She roared, and we stood and took notice.
In her press conferences, both during and after the event, Serena made it clear she feels she can beat any woman on the tour if she's playing at even 50- to 60-percent of her ful potential. She also made it clear she had come to Melbourne to win, and that it wouldn't be a surprise were she to make a run to the final. On can only infer that she clearly thinks of herself as the best in the game; that, barring injuries and other distractions, hen she wants to win she wins. Period. Serena Williams possesses a little bit of Muhammad Ali in her pronouncements of greatness, yet she exhibits none of the verbal flair or eye-winking self-mockery that Ali was famous for and which took the edge off of his grand pronouncements.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Aussie Open 2007: Federer will raise the bar again
In just over 30 minutes, Roger Federer will attempt to defend his Australian Open title against one of the most enigmatic players in the men's game today — Fernando Gonzalez. Along with Serena Williams' long-awaited return to tennis and her masterful title match against top-ranked Maria Sharapova, Gonzalez has been the story at this year's championships in Melbourne.
He has cruised through his half of the draw in blazing style, beating in succession James Blake, Rafael Nadal, and Tomy Haas, all in straight sets. His winners-to-unforced errors differential is over +190, more than 100 points better than Federer's, and in his semifinal match against Haas he made only three unforced errors in the entire three-set match, none at all in sets one and three. To say Gonzalez is on fire would be a huge understatement. And yet, it is Roger Federer he will be facing across the net this morning, a fact which changes the entire equation.
Ordinarily not one to predict outcomes, I've got a sneaking suspicion that Federer will show the world just how much wider the gap is between himself and the rest of the men's field. Because Gonzalez is playing so brilliantly, serving smartly and using the entire court and varying the spins, depth and pace of his groundstrokes to make opportunities to end points with one swing of his racquet, Federer will need to employ a different strategy to keep Gonzalez from gaining confidence as the match wears on. I believe that Federer will take a page from the Sampras playbook, and take away Gonzalez's time by approaching the net earlier and much more frequently than he has thus far in his career.
The wise strategy for Federer is to keep Gonzalez on his heels, searching for a quick answer to Federer's strong forays to net, and to do so early and often so as to put maximum pressure on Gonzalez's groundstrokes. By coming to the net early and often, Federer can prohibit Gonzalez from finding his form on his groundstrokes and dictating the pace and tempo of the match. And if Gonzalez cannot find the spot with his passing shots and lobs early on, he will be forced to play a much more aggressive strategy, perhaps even choosing to try to beat Federer to the net to stem the bleeding.
We may very well witness, in this 2007 Australian Open men's final, the raising of the bar by the world's best player. And he'll do it, not so much because he'll need to do so to win, but because it will bring him victory much sooner than if he were to stay on the baseline and trade strokes with his opponent. And if he can successfully demonstrate his prowess as a serving-and-volleying, net-aproaching pre-emptive striker, he'll have sent another strong message to those trying to "close the gap" between them. And that message is that Roger Federer has no intention of resting on his laurels; he plans to continue improving and adding to his arsenal of weapons, strategies and tactics.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
He has cruised through his half of the draw in blazing style, beating in succession James Blake, Rafael Nadal, and Tomy Haas, all in straight sets. His winners-to-unforced errors differential is over +190, more than 100 points better than Federer's, and in his semifinal match against Haas he made only three unforced errors in the entire three-set match, none at all in sets one and three. To say Gonzalez is on fire would be a huge understatement. And yet, it is Roger Federer he will be facing across the net this morning, a fact which changes the entire equation.
Ordinarily not one to predict outcomes, I've got a sneaking suspicion that Federer will show the world just how much wider the gap is between himself and the rest of the men's field. Because Gonzalez is playing so brilliantly, serving smartly and using the entire court and varying the spins, depth and pace of his groundstrokes to make opportunities to end points with one swing of his racquet, Federer will need to employ a different strategy to keep Gonzalez from gaining confidence as the match wears on. I believe that Federer will take a page from the Sampras playbook, and take away Gonzalez's time by approaching the net earlier and much more frequently than he has thus far in his career.
The wise strategy for Federer is to keep Gonzalez on his heels, searching for a quick answer to Federer's strong forays to net, and to do so early and often so as to put maximum pressure on Gonzalez's groundstrokes. By coming to the net early and often, Federer can prohibit Gonzalez from finding his form on his groundstrokes and dictating the pace and tempo of the match. And if Gonzalez cannot find the spot with his passing shots and lobs early on, he will be forced to play a much more aggressive strategy, perhaps even choosing to try to beat Federer to the net to stem the bleeding.
We may very well witness, in this 2007 Australian Open men's final, the raising of the bar by the world's best player. And he'll do it, not so much because he'll need to do so to win, but because it will bring him victory much sooner than if he were to stay on the baseline and trade strokes with his opponent. And if he can successfully demonstrate his prowess as a serving-and-volleying, net-aproaching pre-emptive striker, he'll have sent another strong message to those trying to "close the gap" between them. And that message is that Roger Federer has no intention of resting on his laurels; he plans to continue improving and adding to his arsenal of weapons, strategies and tactics.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Aussie Open 2007: The lioness roars back!
It wasn't a particularly good match. It had few decent exchanges, and zero suspense. Calling it "one-sided" would be like saying the lion had a bit of an advantage over the young zebra colt. But as Grand Slam finals go, this one stood out for its ferociousness, for the efficiency of the kill.
No, it wasn't a competitive match, but every so often a player of Serena Williams' caliber steps onto one of the grandest stages in the game and delivers. And how did she deliver! Knock-out blow after knock-out blow to a stunned and helpless Maria Sharapova, the same Maria who came into the Australian Open championships as the world's second-ranked player and who will leave Melbourne ranked number one.
Serena Williams came into the Slam of Asia-Pacific ranked number 81 in the world and out of shape with too little match play under her belt. But the seven-time Grand Slam titleist would not be denied. After surviving near-tournament-ending challenges from Nadia Petrova and Shahar Peer, as well as the power and fearlessness of the young 17-year-old, Nicole Vaidisova, Serena roared back onto tennis' center stage. There was one moment in her victory over Peer when Serena, after having won a tough and important point, let out a throaty, full-toothed yell. In the slo-mo replay, she resembled more closely a panther announcing a fresh kill than a pretty, young woman from LA.
Throughout her final under the closed roof of Rod Laver Arena, Serena showed her opponent and the world the hungry heart of a lioness. And what a way to win. She made nearly three times as many winners as unforced errors, and beat Sharapova again and again with just a single stroke, leaving the usually fierce Sharapova flat-footed and demoralized. Finally serving for the match right at the hour mark, Serena hit back-to-back aces to earn a championship point at 6-1, 5-2 (40-love). She missed her first serve, a flat blast, wide of the ad court sideline, and at that point I had a notion that she might try to go for a second service ace up the middle. Sure enough, she went for the ace up the T, but had to settle for a weak return and easy winner to seal the victory.
This wasn't a match to be remembered for its swings in momentum, its pressure-filled break points denied, or its long, suspenseful exchanges from doubles alley to doubles alley. This was a match that will be remembered as the return of the game's most ferociuos competitor. We can only hope that her hunger is great enough to keep her in the game for a few more years. Tennis has its lion in Roger Federer. It needs its lioness, too.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
No, it wasn't a competitive match, but every so often a player of Serena Williams' caliber steps onto one of the grandest stages in the game and delivers. And how did she deliver! Knock-out blow after knock-out blow to a stunned and helpless Maria Sharapova, the same Maria who came into the Australian Open championships as the world's second-ranked player and who will leave Melbourne ranked number one.
Serena Williams came into the Slam of Asia-Pacific ranked number 81 in the world and out of shape with too little match play under her belt. But the seven-time Grand Slam titleist would not be denied. After surviving near-tournament-ending challenges from Nadia Petrova and Shahar Peer, as well as the power and fearlessness of the young 17-year-old, Nicole Vaidisova, Serena roared back onto tennis' center stage. There was one moment in her victory over Peer when Serena, after having won a tough and important point, let out a throaty, full-toothed yell. In the slo-mo replay, she resembled more closely a panther announcing a fresh kill than a pretty, young woman from LA.
Throughout her final under the closed roof of Rod Laver Arena, Serena showed her opponent and the world the hungry heart of a lioness. And what a way to win. She made nearly three times as many winners as unforced errors, and beat Sharapova again and again with just a single stroke, leaving the usually fierce Sharapova flat-footed and demoralized. Finally serving for the match right at the hour mark, Serena hit back-to-back aces to earn a championship point at 6-1, 5-2 (40-love). She missed her first serve, a flat blast, wide of the ad court sideline, and at that point I had a notion that she might try to go for a second service ace up the middle. Sure enough, she went for the ace up the T, but had to settle for a weak return and easy winner to seal the victory.
This wasn't a match to be remembered for its swings in momentum, its pressure-filled break points denied, or its long, suspenseful exchanges from doubles alley to doubles alley. This was a match that will be remembered as the return of the game's most ferociuos competitor. We can only hope that her hunger is great enough to keep her in the game for a few more years. Tennis has its lion in Roger Federer. It needs its lioness, too.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Service lets and sudden death: a few simple changes to give the pro game a shot in the arm
Like America’s national pastime, tennis is steeped in tradition. Tinkering with the game is invariably met with derision by the traditionalists who represent the game’s perennial support base. Propose eliminating the second serve, for example, and the legions respond with a gasp: “Good God, man, have you lost your mind!” Suggest that the best three-of-five sets in the Grand Slam championships should give way to the best two-of-three, and risk being railroaded out of town. Do not pass Go! Do not collect 200 dollars.
Little does it matter that racquet and ball manufacturers, as well as court surface technicians, have been tinkering with the game for years. That’s the way the ball bounces, one hears. Can’t stop progress, you know. And for once they’re right. The pro game has benefited enormously from changes engineered by entrepreneurs like Howard Head, whose oversized metal and graphite racquet frames virtually created the baseline power game. Even John McEnroe, that purist and critic of baseline bashing who once vociferously proposed that pros compete only with wooden racquets, has been quiet of late.
The introduction of the instant replay is cause for optimism. A purist and optimist myself, I believe a few small changes are in order. (A realist, too, I have my bags packed and a ticket on the Silver Streak just in case.)
First, let’s get rid of the service let, as has been done at the collegiate level. This would bring several positive results, not the least of which is that matches would be shortened by several minutes. Since a let is called whenever a player’s first or second serve touches the net cord before landing in, it stands to reason that eliminating it would also reduce the number of double-faults. I don’t know precisely how often a player miscues after one or more serves is played over due to a let, but I’m certain it’s commonplace. The service let is an anomaly; all other lets occurring once the ball is in play are disregarded — play continues. Eliminate the let rule and kill three birds with one stroke!
Second, make stalling nonexistent by strictly enforcing the 20-second rule between points. Let’s go a step further, make it 18 seconds, and insist that play not begin until 10 seconds have passed, thereby eliminating quick-serve gamesmanship, too. According to tennis’ code of conduct, the receiver is expected to “play at the reasonable pace of the server,” which is practically meaningless and entirely unenforcible. After all, what is a reasonable pace? Andre Agassi played extremely quickly, and while no one ever leveled the charge of gamesmanship on Agassi, his was an unreasonable pace by many standards. Simply allow the receiver a full 10 seconds to prepare for the serve, with 18 seconds as the maximum allowed the server to put the ball in play or receive a warning. The receiver should be allowed four seconds before the second serve, with the ball put in play within eight.
One other area that could use a quick fix is the first-round scheduling of the week-long 32- and 64-player tournaments that are sprinkled between the slams and that occupy the greater part of the calendar year. At present, the singles player who wins five or six matches to claim the title on Sunday afternoon must hop on a flight to the next city to face a first-round challenger the very next morning. Let’s give byes to those singles players who competed in semifinal and final matches the week before. This small change will eliminate a fistful of first-round upsets and withdrawals by marquis players. Tournament directors will have their main attractions live up to their commitments and fans will get what they came for.
While we’re at it, keep the best three-of-five set matches for the second week of a Slam. This will not only ease scheduling during the early rounds in rainy London and New York, but it will ensure that players have something left to give in the final rounds of play. We’ll miss the occasional first- or second-round barnburner, but those matches rarely make the history books. Save the best for last and give the people paying top dollar for seats on Centre Court and in Arthur Ashe stadium their money’s worth.
Am I the only one over the 12-point tiebreak? Let’s face facts: it’s not sudden death, as players must win by two points. The pro game should adopt the 9-point tiebreaker that the late James Van Alen left to the game. Fast, furious, full of suspense, the first to five points wins and at four points apiece the receiver chooses where to take the serve — deuce court or ad. Just five to nine points of gutsy tennis in under three minutes. That’s sudden death.
As for coaching during matches… good God, never!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This article first appeared in the December 2006 issue of TENNIS WEEK Magazine. The author has requested and been granted permission by the editors of TENNIS WEEK Magazine to reproduce the article in its entirety on this blog. This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Little does it matter that racquet and ball manufacturers, as well as court surface technicians, have been tinkering with the game for years. That’s the way the ball bounces, one hears. Can’t stop progress, you know. And for once they’re right. The pro game has benefited enormously from changes engineered by entrepreneurs like Howard Head, whose oversized metal and graphite racquet frames virtually created the baseline power game. Even John McEnroe, that purist and critic of baseline bashing who once vociferously proposed that pros compete only with wooden racquets, has been quiet of late.
The introduction of the instant replay is cause for optimism. A purist and optimist myself, I believe a few small changes are in order. (A realist, too, I have my bags packed and a ticket on the Silver Streak just in case.)
First, let’s get rid of the service let, as has been done at the collegiate level. This would bring several positive results, not the least of which is that matches would be shortened by several minutes. Since a let is called whenever a player’s first or second serve touches the net cord before landing in, it stands to reason that eliminating it would also reduce the number of double-faults. I don’t know precisely how often a player miscues after one or more serves is played over due to a let, but I’m certain it’s commonplace. The service let is an anomaly; all other lets occurring once the ball is in play are disregarded — play continues. Eliminate the let rule and kill three birds with one stroke!
Second, make stalling nonexistent by strictly enforcing the 20-second rule between points. Let’s go a step further, make it 18 seconds, and insist that play not begin until 10 seconds have passed, thereby eliminating quick-serve gamesmanship, too. According to tennis’ code of conduct, the receiver is expected to “play at the reasonable pace of the server,” which is practically meaningless and entirely unenforcible. After all, what is a reasonable pace? Andre Agassi played extremely quickly, and while no one ever leveled the charge of gamesmanship on Agassi, his was an unreasonable pace by many standards. Simply allow the receiver a full 10 seconds to prepare for the serve, with 18 seconds as the maximum allowed the server to put the ball in play or receive a warning. The receiver should be allowed four seconds before the second serve, with the ball put in play within eight.
One other area that could use a quick fix is the first-round scheduling of the week-long 32- and 64-player tournaments that are sprinkled between the slams and that occupy the greater part of the calendar year. At present, the singles player who wins five or six matches to claim the title on Sunday afternoon must hop on a flight to the next city to face a first-round challenger the very next morning. Let’s give byes to those singles players who competed in semifinal and final matches the week before. This small change will eliminate a fistful of first-round upsets and withdrawals by marquis players. Tournament directors will have their main attractions live up to their commitments and fans will get what they came for.
While we’re at it, keep the best three-of-five set matches for the second week of a Slam. This will not only ease scheduling during the early rounds in rainy London and New York, but it will ensure that players have something left to give in the final rounds of play. We’ll miss the occasional first- or second-round barnburner, but those matches rarely make the history books. Save the best for last and give the people paying top dollar for seats on Centre Court and in Arthur Ashe stadium their money’s worth.
Am I the only one over the 12-point tiebreak? Let’s face facts: it’s not sudden death, as players must win by two points. The pro game should adopt the 9-point tiebreaker that the late James Van Alen left to the game. Fast, furious, full of suspense, the first to five points wins and at four points apiece the receiver chooses where to take the serve — deuce court or ad. Just five to nine points of gutsy tennis in under three minutes. That’s sudden death.
As for coaching during matches… good God, never!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This article first appeared in the December 2006 issue of TENNIS WEEK Magazine. The author has requested and been granted permission by the editors of TENNIS WEEK Magazine to reproduce the article in its entirety on this blog. This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Sideshows and circus acts: why pro tennis should say no to on-court coaching
Now that the Hawk-Eye instant reply has been deemed a rousing success by promoters, players and fans alike, tennis has turned its attention to the prospect of on-court coaching. In the January/February 2007 issue of TENNIS Magazine, Brad Gilbert, former coach of Andre Agassi and current mentor to rising British star Andy Murray, gives three reasons why coaching should become a regular part of the pro game. Gilbert argues that coaching will (1) put an end to cheating, (2) give players their money’s worth, and (3) enhance the “show” by letting fans listen-in on what coaches are saying to their charges.
I believe that coach Gilbert’s and others’ arguments put forth in favor of on-court coaching are misguided and, should they be adopted, may lead the pro game down a slippery slope toward traveling theater.
Let me address Gilbert’s first point, that on-court coaching will put an end to cheating. Should coaching be limited to a once-per-set conference, as he proposes, that will merely allow the coach to transmit verbally what he or she might otherwise share via gestures and other non-verbal signals. Why would the covert tactics disappear, simply because the coach is given an opportunity to talk with his player face to face once a set? The monitoring of coaches would still be necessary, as the temptation to “cheat” would still exist. To truly eliminate the cheating Gilbert suggests is rampant and that goes unpunished today, coaches would need to be relegated to viewing matches on a monitor from a room outside the court.
Gilbert’s second point, that allowing coaching will finally let players get their money’s worth, is interesting. Presumably, this follows logically because players will receive their coach’s help when it is most needed and most valuable — during the match. While this argument seems logical on the surface, it completely overlooks a simple economic reality. The most successful players also have the largest bank accounts, and would therefore be able to afford the most astute coaches, while those struggling to make it on the tour or to climb up the ranks would be facing not only a higher-ranked opponent but also one who has the best help money can buy. Talk about stacking the deck! This basic inequity all but guarantees that the highest ranked players will receive the best coaching. It is easy to see how the advent of on-court coaching might have the effect of promoting the status quo and widening the gap between the haves and have-nots.
The last of Gilbert’s arguments, that on-court coaching will make the game more compelling and entertaining, is certainly partly true. One cannot deny the entertainment value of hearing a coach tell a player to stop going wide to the forehand and start using his head for something other than a hat rack. Who wouldn’t want to hear the advice Jimmy Connors is giving to Andy Roddick as Roger Federer is taking him apart? It would certainly be entertaining. It would be even more entertaining if we were privy to the on-court “coachings” of John McEnroe, as his charge went head to head against Roddick and old rival, Connors. But would it be compelling or a mere novelty? Personally, I would rather the players figure out on their own how to turn their fortunes around.
Hasn’t it occurred to anyone that — Gilbert’s once-per-set conference notwithstanding — pro tennis might soon give in to the market forces that would demand the co-branding of big-name former pros? We could easily see the rise of “personalities” assuming the on-court duties to maximize tennis’ entertainment value while the day-to-day coaching is handled by someone of lesser or more modest celebrity, but greater substance. Think of the possibilities: Guillermo Vilas “coaching” Rafael Nadal. McEnroe and Roger Federer. And what could be better than an Ilie Nastase–Marat Safin on-court partnership? Except perhaps Goran Ivanisevic–Safin! Could professionally choreographed matches be too far off? Are we ready to let tennis devolve into a sideshow, a circus act?
Unless on-court conferences are severely restricted, as Gilbert proposes, the bulk of the “coaching” would be missed by television viewers due to those ubiquitous and vital sponsor ads at every change-over. Only folks sitting in the stadium seats would benefit from this new form of entertainment. The real reason for the interest in on-court coaching is to bolster the entertainment value of the pro game for paying fans. It’s simply another opportunity to brand one more product.
Yes, play would likely improve, and some matches might become more competitive, swinging on a pendulum as each player’s coach devises a counter-plan or tweaks tactics. But let’s not fool ourselves into believing that blowouts will become a thing of the past. No amount of coaching will keep the Federer Express from flattening 90 percent of the men’s field. And no amount of on-court coaching will fix Elena Dementieva’s service woes during her match. That’s something that can only be accomplished on the practice court.
In addition, whatever happens on the pro level would likely make its way onto the junior circuit, where more harm than good can be done. Coaches already sit on the court during college matches; high school and junior matches will likely be next. As it stands, we've got far too many coaches lined up on the edges of city parks watching like hawks over their charges, with far too few linesmen, umpires and roving judges to stop the numerous rule and code violations. Cheating in the juniors is rampant; it’s the elephant in the corner that no one dares acknowledge. When coaches and parent-coaches are tasked with producing winners, abuses regularly occur. Overzealous coaching leads to cheating as well as verbal, physical and emotional abuse. Instead of acting as guides in a young player's development, too often parents and coaches step over the line. Allowing on-court coaching would simply feed this pathology.
Tennis should be in the business of promoting self-reliance, the development of problem-solving skills, and taking responsibility for on-court behaviors. Coaches need to stay on the sidelines, not become a sideshow.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
I believe that coach Gilbert’s and others’ arguments put forth in favor of on-court coaching are misguided and, should they be adopted, may lead the pro game down a slippery slope toward traveling theater.
Let me address Gilbert’s first point, that on-court coaching will put an end to cheating. Should coaching be limited to a once-per-set conference, as he proposes, that will merely allow the coach to transmit verbally what he or she might otherwise share via gestures and other non-verbal signals. Why would the covert tactics disappear, simply because the coach is given an opportunity to talk with his player face to face once a set? The monitoring of coaches would still be necessary, as the temptation to “cheat” would still exist. To truly eliminate the cheating Gilbert suggests is rampant and that goes unpunished today, coaches would need to be relegated to viewing matches on a monitor from a room outside the court.
Gilbert’s second point, that allowing coaching will finally let players get their money’s worth, is interesting. Presumably, this follows logically because players will receive their coach’s help when it is most needed and most valuable — during the match. While this argument seems logical on the surface, it completely overlooks a simple economic reality. The most successful players also have the largest bank accounts, and would therefore be able to afford the most astute coaches, while those struggling to make it on the tour or to climb up the ranks would be facing not only a higher-ranked opponent but also one who has the best help money can buy. Talk about stacking the deck! This basic inequity all but guarantees that the highest ranked players will receive the best coaching. It is easy to see how the advent of on-court coaching might have the effect of promoting the status quo and widening the gap between the haves and have-nots.
The last of Gilbert’s arguments, that on-court coaching will make the game more compelling and entertaining, is certainly partly true. One cannot deny the entertainment value of hearing a coach tell a player to stop going wide to the forehand and start using his head for something other than a hat rack. Who wouldn’t want to hear the advice Jimmy Connors is giving to Andy Roddick as Roger Federer is taking him apart? It would certainly be entertaining. It would be even more entertaining if we were privy to the on-court “coachings” of John McEnroe, as his charge went head to head against Roddick and old rival, Connors. But would it be compelling or a mere novelty? Personally, I would rather the players figure out on their own how to turn their fortunes around.
Hasn’t it occurred to anyone that — Gilbert’s once-per-set conference notwithstanding — pro tennis might soon give in to the market forces that would demand the co-branding of big-name former pros? We could easily see the rise of “personalities” assuming the on-court duties to maximize tennis’ entertainment value while the day-to-day coaching is handled by someone of lesser or more modest celebrity, but greater substance. Think of the possibilities: Guillermo Vilas “coaching” Rafael Nadal. McEnroe and Roger Federer. And what could be better than an Ilie Nastase–Marat Safin on-court partnership? Except perhaps Goran Ivanisevic–Safin! Could professionally choreographed matches be too far off? Are we ready to let tennis devolve into a sideshow, a circus act?
Unless on-court conferences are severely restricted, as Gilbert proposes, the bulk of the “coaching” would be missed by television viewers due to those ubiquitous and vital sponsor ads at every change-over. Only folks sitting in the stadium seats would benefit from this new form of entertainment. The real reason for the interest in on-court coaching is to bolster the entertainment value of the pro game for paying fans. It’s simply another opportunity to brand one more product.
Yes, play would likely improve, and some matches might become more competitive, swinging on a pendulum as each player’s coach devises a counter-plan or tweaks tactics. But let’s not fool ourselves into believing that blowouts will become a thing of the past. No amount of coaching will keep the Federer Express from flattening 90 percent of the men’s field. And no amount of on-court coaching will fix Elena Dementieva’s service woes during her match. That’s something that can only be accomplished on the practice court.
In addition, whatever happens on the pro level would likely make its way onto the junior circuit, where more harm than good can be done. Coaches already sit on the court during college matches; high school and junior matches will likely be next. As it stands, we've got far too many coaches lined up on the edges of city parks watching like hawks over their charges, with far too few linesmen, umpires and roving judges to stop the numerous rule and code violations. Cheating in the juniors is rampant; it’s the elephant in the corner that no one dares acknowledge. When coaches and parent-coaches are tasked with producing winners, abuses regularly occur. Overzealous coaching leads to cheating as well as verbal, physical and emotional abuse. Instead of acting as guides in a young player's development, too often parents and coaches step over the line. Allowing on-court coaching would simply feed this pathology.
Tennis should be in the business of promoting self-reliance, the development of problem-solving skills, and taking responsibility for on-court behaviors. Coaches need to stay on the sidelines, not become a sideshow.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Who's the greatest of all time? Wrong question!
On the eve of the Australian Open, the first leg of tennis' holy grail, the Grand Slam, it's difficult not to contemplate the possibility and importance of a 10th Grand Slam singles title for world no. 1, Roger Federer. One can already hear the sports writers clicking out their pronouncements of "greatest of all time." The GOAT list, seemingly the most treasured commodity among sports writers today, would suddenly show a shift in the hierarchy, or at the very least the insertion of an asterisk next to Pete Sampras' name: "*Most Grand Slam singles titles, for the moment."
Yes, a 10th Grand Slam title would bring Federer another step closer to surpassing Sampras' record of 14 Grand Slam victories and — it will be written as surely as the sun will rise another day — will set Federer apart from the rest by leaps and bounds. He's already amassed the single best three-year run in modern ("Open") tennis history, having lost merely 15 matches to date in that span and having amassed nine Grand Slam titles along the way. In three short years! No doubt, most now say, he's well within reach of Sampras' record, and a 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne would simply close the book on that debate.
All this may be true, although I'm one to remain uncommitted until it happens, because all players are one torn ACL, one broken foot or fractured wrist, or one hip replacement away from leaving their careers too soon and too young. Remember Magnus Norman and Gustavo Kuerten. So I'll reserve final judgment on whether Federer is the greatest of all time. I will, however, say that in my estimation, he is one of the most well-rounded players, with as diverse and deadly an arsenal of offensive weapons and as solid a defensive game as anyone I've seen play the game. Furthermore, his transition game is right up there with the best, and his movement is second to none, though he is not the fastest player even of his own generation. What is certain, is that he has dominated his contemporaries as soundly and as surely as Sampras, Borg, Lendl and others had dominated theirs. But as for predicting the outcome of head-to-head battles, while it's an interesting exercise in what-if's and why-for's, I'm not certain it really amounts to much.
The question that I think really is worth asking, is "Which players have had the greatest impact on the game?" And here, I think, one might try to rank them and to present reasons for one's choices. I've given this question some serious thought, and I'd like to pose it to you. So, I won't give you my list (let's call it the GIOG list) quite yet, although I can tell you that the great Roger Federer is not at the top of this heap.
I'll post my list by the end of next week.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Yes, a 10th Grand Slam title would bring Federer another step closer to surpassing Sampras' record of 14 Grand Slam victories and — it will be written as surely as the sun will rise another day — will set Federer apart from the rest by leaps and bounds. He's already amassed the single best three-year run in modern ("Open") tennis history, having lost merely 15 matches to date in that span and having amassed nine Grand Slam titles along the way. In three short years! No doubt, most now say, he's well within reach of Sampras' record, and a 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne would simply close the book on that debate.
All this may be true, although I'm one to remain uncommitted until it happens, because all players are one torn ACL, one broken foot or fractured wrist, or one hip replacement away from leaving their careers too soon and too young. Remember Magnus Norman and Gustavo Kuerten. So I'll reserve final judgment on whether Federer is the greatest of all time. I will, however, say that in my estimation, he is one of the most well-rounded players, with as diverse and deadly an arsenal of offensive weapons and as solid a defensive game as anyone I've seen play the game. Furthermore, his transition game is right up there with the best, and his movement is second to none, though he is not the fastest player even of his own generation. What is certain, is that he has dominated his contemporaries as soundly and as surely as Sampras, Borg, Lendl and others had dominated theirs. But as for predicting the outcome of head-to-head battles, while it's an interesting exercise in what-if's and why-for's, I'm not certain it really amounts to much.
The question that I think really is worth asking, is "Which players have had the greatest impact on the game?" And here, I think, one might try to rank them and to present reasons for one's choices. I've given this question some serious thought, and I'd like to pose it to you. So, I won't give you my list (let's call it the GIOG list) quite yet, although I can tell you that the great Roger Federer is not at the top of this heap.
I'll post my list by the end of next week.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Groin pulls, pullouts and other tennis' ailments
Less than five days from the start of the first leg of tennis' Grand Slam, the Australian Open, we're already down two marquee players with the likelihood of others announcing early withdrawal. For starters, last year's finalist, Justine Henin-Hardenne, has withdrawn from this year's contest for personal reasons. Then there's Venus Williams, out due to a recurring wrist injury. And Rafael Nadal looks either hopeful or doubtful, depending on whether you're a glass half-full or half-empty sort. Also, Nikolay Davydenko might yet withdraw with a foot injury, as might Anastasia Myskina.
Rafa pulled up lame in his lead-up event, citing a groin pull, which started the tennis community talking. Was he really injured? Or is he saving himself for the Slam? No matter how you slice it, it doesn't bode well for tennis, in general. Too many name players injured or claiming injury, withdrawing from Slams or retiring in the middle of lead-up events to save themselves for the Slams. The latter is preferable, of course, because it at least demonstrates a desire on the part of players to be in top form for the Slams.
But there's an underlying problem that is not being sufficiently dealt with, and it's complicated. First, you have the schedule of events and the length of the season. Holding a Grand Slam tournament in the third and fourth week of the new season is ludicrous. It's akin to Major League Baseball scheduling the American and National League Championship Series games in April, at the conclusion of the preseason exhibitions. No one in their right mind would ever consider proposing that. Add in the sheer length of the season, some 42-46 weeks for the world's best players — longer for those in the "minor leagues" — and you've got a recipe for disaster. All elite athletes need time to rest and repair their broken-down bodies, regroup their efforts and get back into their training routine, and retool their arsenal and add to their games. Rest. Repair. Regroup. Retool.
Were some miracle to occur, were the stars to align and a Commissioner of Tennis be appointed who had the power to makeover the schedule, much of tennis' troubles would persist. Why? Two words: appearance money. Call it promotional fees, if you will. Tournament directors around the globe and throughout the schedule vie for the best players, and many offer appearance money, what is often referred to as "guarantee" money. These appearance fees are often larger than the winner's purse, which creates one obvious problem right off; namely, incentive kill. If a top player can use his or her market value to obtain an appearance fee of $100,000 to commit to an event that will only pay out $25,000 to the victor, where is the incentive to give 100 percent effort? It is left to the ranking points to carry the burden.
So, if Nadal pulls out due to a suspicious groin pull, because he wants to save himself for the Slam the next week, can anyone blame him? Particularly if he has copped a cool hundred grand or more in appearance money to show up and sell tickets? After all, that's what the appearance fee is all about — selling tickets to the show. That's why I think we should call it what it really is: a promotional fee. What the tournament directors are really paying is a fee for the use of the player's name and image in advertising and on programs, billboards and other signage promoting the event. If the player never shows, the marketing has still worked to sell a certain number of seats, so he or she has done their part. It's how promotional marketing works, and today's top players are commodities for the tennis industry in the same way that Tyra Banks or Kate Moss is a commodity for the fashion industry. That they should command top dollar for their "services" should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with how using celebrity star power in advertising creates demand for a product.
The answer, of course, is to first adjust the schedule so that there are four Grand Slam Series — one leading up to the Australian Open, one leading up to Roland Garros, one to Wimbledon, and one to the U.S. Open. Then, each of the Series "owners" or stakeholders would sign players to contracts. For example, Federer might sign a commitment to play no fewer than three events in the Series leading up to the Australian Open, three events leading up to Roland Garros, three events leading up to Wimbledon, and three events leading to the U.S. Open. He'd sign four different contracts. That would account for 12 of his 18 or so events on the year. The contract would stipulate the right of the Series "owners" to use his name and image in all marketing for any or all events within the Series. So, in signing onto the U.S. Open Series, Roger would in effect be committing to play three of the events leading up to the U.S. Open in New York, and in doing so would be granting the Series "owners" the right to use his name and image in all promotional materials for any and/or all the events in the U.S. Open Series. Should Roger choose not to play the Washington event, for example, his name and image might well grace the materials (except for the final drawsheet and on-site player promos) used by the tournament director to sell seats for that event. Roger could enter the event at his discretion, provided a spot in the draw was available. If, however, he chose not to enter the event, he would need to find three other events within the U.S. Open Series to enter, or run the risk of breaking his contract. A breach of contract would carry a stiff monetary penalty, perhaps equal to the appearance or promotional fee he'd been guaranteed for signing on and granting permission to the Series "owners" to use his name and image.
In this way, the Series "owners" could better control the use of appearance/promotional fees, and assure their constituents (i.e., fans) of the actual appearance of their marquee players in some, if not all, of the events within their product. The only other way to go would be to eliminate appearance fees completely, which would merely bring back the "black market" fees that once got Guillermo Vilas in trouble in the 1970s. The fees wouldn't disappear, they'd just go underground, and we'd lose all visibility and accountability.
Retiring with injury may be the only card a player can play legally if he needs to save himself for the big event with the big prize. Tanking, for most pros, is out of the question, as it may scar one's reputation and hurt one's chances of obtaining an appearance fee next time around. The verdict is still out on Nadal; we'll have to wait and see how he holds up in Melbourne. As for Henin-Hardenne's retirement to Amelie Mauresmo in last year's Aussie Open final, either her physical pain must have been real, or she couldn't bear the psychological and emotional pain of a convincing defeat. The truth we may never know.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
Rafa pulled up lame in his lead-up event, citing a groin pull, which started the tennis community talking. Was he really injured? Or is he saving himself for the Slam? No matter how you slice it, it doesn't bode well for tennis, in general. Too many name players injured or claiming injury, withdrawing from Slams or retiring in the middle of lead-up events to save themselves for the Slams. The latter is preferable, of course, because it at least demonstrates a desire on the part of players to be in top form for the Slams.
But there's an underlying problem that is not being sufficiently dealt with, and it's complicated. First, you have the schedule of events and the length of the season. Holding a Grand Slam tournament in the third and fourth week of the new season is ludicrous. It's akin to Major League Baseball scheduling the American and National League Championship Series games in April, at the conclusion of the preseason exhibitions. No one in their right mind would ever consider proposing that. Add in the sheer length of the season, some 42-46 weeks for the world's best players — longer for those in the "minor leagues" — and you've got a recipe for disaster. All elite athletes need time to rest and repair their broken-down bodies, regroup their efforts and get back into their training routine, and retool their arsenal and add to their games. Rest. Repair. Regroup. Retool.
Were some miracle to occur, were the stars to align and a Commissioner of Tennis be appointed who had the power to makeover the schedule, much of tennis' troubles would persist. Why? Two words: appearance money. Call it promotional fees, if you will. Tournament directors around the globe and throughout the schedule vie for the best players, and many offer appearance money, what is often referred to as "guarantee" money. These appearance fees are often larger than the winner's purse, which creates one obvious problem right off; namely, incentive kill. If a top player can use his or her market value to obtain an appearance fee of $100,000 to commit to an event that will only pay out $25,000 to the victor, where is the incentive to give 100 percent effort? It is left to the ranking points to carry the burden.
So, if Nadal pulls out due to a suspicious groin pull, because he wants to save himself for the Slam the next week, can anyone blame him? Particularly if he has copped a cool hundred grand or more in appearance money to show up and sell tickets? After all, that's what the appearance fee is all about — selling tickets to the show. That's why I think we should call it what it really is: a promotional fee. What the tournament directors are really paying is a fee for the use of the player's name and image in advertising and on programs, billboards and other signage promoting the event. If the player never shows, the marketing has still worked to sell a certain number of seats, so he or she has done their part. It's how promotional marketing works, and today's top players are commodities for the tennis industry in the same way that Tyra Banks or Kate Moss is a commodity for the fashion industry. That they should command top dollar for their "services" should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with how using celebrity star power in advertising creates demand for a product.
The answer, of course, is to first adjust the schedule so that there are four Grand Slam Series — one leading up to the Australian Open, one leading up to Roland Garros, one to Wimbledon, and one to the U.S. Open. Then, each of the Series "owners" or stakeholders would sign players to contracts. For example, Federer might sign a commitment to play no fewer than three events in the Series leading up to the Australian Open, three events leading up to Roland Garros, three events leading up to Wimbledon, and three events leading to the U.S. Open. He'd sign four different contracts. That would account for 12 of his 18 or so events on the year. The contract would stipulate the right of the Series "owners" to use his name and image in all marketing for any or all events within the Series. So, in signing onto the U.S. Open Series, Roger would in effect be committing to play three of the events leading up to the U.S. Open in New York, and in doing so would be granting the Series "owners" the right to use his name and image in all promotional materials for any and/or all the events in the U.S. Open Series. Should Roger choose not to play the Washington event, for example, his name and image might well grace the materials (except for the final drawsheet and on-site player promos) used by the tournament director to sell seats for that event. Roger could enter the event at his discretion, provided a spot in the draw was available. If, however, he chose not to enter the event, he would need to find three other events within the U.S. Open Series to enter, or run the risk of breaking his contract. A breach of contract would carry a stiff monetary penalty, perhaps equal to the appearance or promotional fee he'd been guaranteed for signing on and granting permission to the Series "owners" to use his name and image.
In this way, the Series "owners" could better control the use of appearance/promotional fees, and assure their constituents (i.e., fans) of the actual appearance of their marquee players in some, if not all, of the events within their product. The only other way to go would be to eliminate appearance fees completely, which would merely bring back the "black market" fees that once got Guillermo Vilas in trouble in the 1970s. The fees wouldn't disappear, they'd just go underground, and we'd lose all visibility and accountability.
Retiring with injury may be the only card a player can play legally if he needs to save himself for the big event with the big prize. Tanking, for most pros, is out of the question, as it may scar one's reputation and hurt one's chances of obtaining an appearance fee next time around. The verdict is still out on Nadal; we'll have to wait and see how he holds up in Melbourne. As for Henin-Hardenne's retirement to Amelie Mauresmo in last year's Aussie Open final, either her physical pain must have been real, or she couldn't bear the psychological and emotional pain of a convincing defeat. The truth we may never know.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This material is copyrighted and may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express written or verbal consent of the author. Thank you for your cooperation.
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