Tennis Frontier

Author: Jesse Pentecost

  • Imagine That

    Imagine That

    US Open, Second Round Recap

    The second round of this year’s US Open is now complete, which, until tonight, was about all that usefully could be said about it. There was plenty being said, of course, but little of it was specifically about tennis. It’s always revealing when the controversy centres around those parts of the tournament that don’t involve players hitting balls at each other. Often it reveals that there’s not enough transpiring on court. What is it they say about devilry and idle hands?

    For some among the idle-handed this has provided further opportunity to wax righteous on Andy Murray’s behalf. It has been another wearying reminder that burning indignation is a bad state for weak writers to find themselves in, made worse by the fact that for too many of them it is also their default state. In any case, justifiable concern at Murray’s very late first round finish has given way to disgruntlement at his second round relegation to Louis Armstrong Stadium. Rightly or wrongly, placement on the second court was held to be a slight on the defending champion’s status. Murray himself has previously made his distaste for the venue plain. That’s fair enough – he doesn’t have to like it.

    More problematic, apparently, was that by playing third today his match wouldn’t see completion before deadlines expired for the attendant British press corps. The USTA was taken to task for this oversight, most notably by Neil Harman of The Times. Some responded that it isn’t the job of the US Open to worry on behalf of the English press. It was pointed out in turn that with newspaper revenues collapsing it was incumbent upon premium events such as this to ensure that newsprint journalists are given every advantage. While I certainly agree that the death of print journalism is deplorable, I’m not convinced it is the task of tennis tournaments to nurse it along more than they already do. Print outlets are already given preference over online interests, including priority seating for late round matches with limited capacity. Print journalists are often the keenest advocates for the suppression of interview transcripts.

    Amidst all this, it’s worth remembering than Murray did actually win today in four sets over a surprisingly gallant Leonardo Mayer. Ivan Lendl is doubtless earning his salary by ensuring his man isn’t distracted by all this subsidiary nonsense, although I don’t doubt he’ll have some stern words about today’s third set letdown.

    Of course, the United States has its own issues on the home front. The enemy is within the gates. Many of them were in the Louis Armstrong Stadium crowd last night, watching John Isner play Gael Monfils. Television viewers were presented with the unusual spectacle of an American crowd showing vociferous support for a guy who wasn’t born in the same country as them, as opposed to the guy who was. Much has been made of this; rather too much, in fact. It was no coincidence that Monfils, who is immensely popular everywhere – except, often, with his own fans –gained favour when he picked up his game while trailing by two sets to love. This change in sympathy was briefly noted on Eurosport, afterwards regretted by Isner himself, and dissected exhaustively on ESPN. Really, the crowd just wanted a few more sets, and appreciated the things Monfils was doing with his body and the tennis ball. He still couldn’t serve, and Isner often did little else, but it nonetheless transformed into a very entertaining match. The crowd got its wish, which I suspect always included eventual victory for Isner. The American was afterwards equally lavish in praising his opponent.

    In other results, both Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal were  imperious and utterly untroubled against Carlos Berlocq and Rogerio Dutra Silva, respectively. There’s a real chance they will actually meet in the quarterfinals, although it’s possible they’re just lulling us into complacency. Stan Wawrinka started slowly against Ivo Karlovic, but was quite excellent once he regained the break in the first set. Novak Djokovic also took an age to get going, and almost dropped the first set to Benjamin Becker. Marcos Baghdatis, on the other hand, began superbly and stayed that way until the end against Kevin Anderson. For all we know Baghdatis’s brilliance didn’t abate once he left the court. His momentum was such that he’s probably doing a first-rate job with his dinner even as I write, delivering bon mots that have the table on a roar.

    Dan Evans’s excellent New York adventure continues. He beat Bernard Tomic quite comfortably to reach the third round, although his understandable elation at this accomplishment was tempered by the sobering discovery that the result came too late for British print deadlines. For his part, Tomic was typically frank in assessing his own shortcomings: “I think I get lazy on the court, my tennis sort of comes a bit slow. I don’t really know how to put guys away.” I imagine a proper coach could help with that. No one is sure where Tomic’s game is, but his capacity to make the right noises after losses has nearly matched Ryan Harrison’s.

    The delightfully articulate Dmitry Tursunov remains a fine advertisement for the sport, and for my powers of prescience: I suggested he’d be the one to emerge from David Ferrer’s quarter, and he has now reached the third round. Even if he somehow loses to the eighth seeded Richard Gasquet, I still get to be half-right. Meanwhile, Tommy Haas moved another round closer to a return to the Top 10, defeating Yen-Hsun Lu in straight sets. As far as I can tell he’ll need to reach the quarterfinals at least, which means he’ll have to beat Mikhail Youzhny in the next round, unquestionably the pick of the round.

    Lleyton Hewitt tonight recovered from two sets to one down to defeat Juan Martin del Potro in five sets on Arthur Ashe Stadium, entirely justifying the primetime scheduling. Del Potro has notoriously never recovered from a two set deficit, and for a time appeared fortunate that he didn’t have to put that record to the test. The Australian led by a set, and served for the second at 5-4, but didn’t acquit himself well on either of the set points he gained. The Argentine broke back, broke again to take the set, then again to open the third. He took the third, and then emphatically failed to gallop away with the fourth. Instead Hewitt pressed, and broke again. Again he failed to serve out the set. Del Potro, capricious in his way, defied every assumption that he’d again make Hewitt pay once more. The tiebreaker was all Hewitt, except for the errors, which were all del Potro’s. From there Hewitt went on with it, and broke three times in the final set, which ended with a double fault.

    It was a strange match, the type of upset that resists easy categorisation. The quality varied immensely, especially from del Potro, whose left wrist inhibited his backhand, and who sometimes grew oddly fearful when he wasn’t behind. Still, the overall inconsistency of momentum guaranteed consistency of drama, further heightened by the occasion and the venue, and only slightly marred by the heroic sequence of toilet breaks enjoyed by both men. Hewitt is fond of saying that it is for occasions such as these that he still plays, even if he is earning fewer opportunities to say it as the years advance. It is his first victory over a Top 10 opponent in over three years. Whether he’ll go on with it is a nice question, although even wearied he must fancy his chances against Evgeny Donskoy in the next round. After that he might face Haas. In the fourth round of a Major. In 2013. Imagine that.

  • Luck of the Draw: US Open 2013

    Luck of the Draw: US Open 2013

    The draw for the US Open has been released in the traditional fashion, which is to write the names of every eligible player on little slips of paper, place them all in an antique cannon in the middle of Arthur Ashe Stadium, and fire them straight up. From there the strong prevailing winds take over, and a player’s placement is determined by where in the tri-state area his name flutters to rest. It is for this reason, one presumes, that the year’s final Major is always contested during hurricane season. Sadly, the USTA has announced that in 2017 there will be roofs over the main stadiums at the Billy Jean King National Tennis Center. The US Open will have to find a new way of conducting the ceremony (since it is unthinkable that something as momentous as populating a tournament draw could be achieved without due pomp). It’s always a shame when old traditions disappear.

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    Of subsidiary interest, the placement of the very highest seeds is decided by where their names fall in relation to David Ferrer’s. As it happened, Rafael Nadal was the luckiest one. We can safely ignore scurrilous rumours that the slips of paper bearing the two Spaniards’ names had been stuck together with adhesive. Meanwhile, Novak Djokovic’s name turned up in Stamford, Connecticut. It could have been worse, I suppose.

    Once again we’re invited to marvel at the vagaries of the ATP rankings, especially the situation whereby Andy Murray, reigning US Open (and Wimbledon) champion and eternal saviour of British tennis, is ranked number three in the world. This is one place lower than Nadal, who holds only a single Major (Roland Garros), lost in the first round at Wimbledon, and didn’t even play at the others. It is two places lower than Novak Djokovic, who holds only the Australian Open. As a result the Scot is seeded lower than both those men at the upcoming US Open. As far as the population of the small island positioned off the extreme western coast of the Eurasian landmass is concerned, this is nothing short of a cosmic injustice.

    Although Sky Sports have never attained the febrile derangement of their compatriots at the Daily Mail, they have nonetheless elevated cheerleading on Murray’s behalf into something of an art form, and will reliably ascend to heights of outrage when they feel he’s been hard-done-by. While raucous advocacy presumably doesn’t reflect management’s official position, it certainly isn’t discouraged, and any failure to address Britain’s top player in sufficiently rapturous terms presumably results in disciplinary action. (This policy, incidentally, isn’t limited to Sky: word is that John McEnroe received a stern talking-to from ESPN after he repeatedly excoriated American players on air during last year’s US Open. He and his brother really did go to town on Donald Young one evening. Here in Australia, failure to sing the praises of either Lleyton Hewitt or Bernard Tomic will earn the offender a baleful visit from John Newcombe.) Anyway, Peter Fleming pronounced the latest rankings to be “crazy”. Marcus Buckland suggested it “seemed unfair”. Others were less circumspect, in each case betraying a deliberate ignorance of how the rankings actually work. It is understandable that the average punter’s knowledge of the sport ends with the Majors – we shouldn’t necessarily be thrilled at this, and American coverage in particular can grow pathetically grateful at any public interest at all – but for those paid good money to follow professional tennis from week to week, the Majors should merely be the start. There is no mystery why Nadal is ranked higher than Murray: there’s more to tennis than Grand Slam events.

    Anyway, the reason why the second and third seedings matter so much at this US Open is that David Ferrer is seeded fourth. There are probably kinder ways to say it, but the reality is that even when Ferrer was in decent form he represented a more benign semifinal opponent than whomever the alternative happened to be. Right now, however, he is in execrable form, and still troubled by a lingering injury. Not only that, but these are the potential quarterfinal match-ups based on seedings:

    • Djokovic – del Potro
    • Murray – Berdych
    • Nadal – Federer
    • Ferrer – Gasquet

    Which of these is not like the others? Any one of Berdych, del Potro, or Federer could have fallen in Ferrer’s quarter, and in each case would have been favoured to reach the last weekend. Alas, it wasn’t to be. So it goes. Let’s just call Ferrer’s quarter a grand opportunity for someone. There are nine qualifiers in this quarter, and four of them are facing each other. I’m going to venture out on an especially shaky limb, and suggest that Dmitry Tursunov’s time has arrived. Seeded thirty-two, the Russian won’t encounter anyone ranked higher until the third round at the earliest. By wisely choosing to be drawn in Ferrer’s quarter, he has ensured that he won’t face anyone truly terrifying until the semifinals. So pencil him in for that. Gasquet is in there, too, of course, seeded eighth. I could pencil him in for a quarterfinal, but history suggests that would be a waste of graphite. On the small chance that Tursunov doesn’t push all the way through to Super Saturday, I suspect either Milos Raonic or Jerzy Janowicz will. Or Ernests Gulbis, who is now seeded and can thus stop thinking of himself as the world’s most dangerous floater, since it was frankly getting him nowhere. But really it’s anyone’s guess.

    Ryan Harrison’s appalling luck at Grand Slam level continues. He has once again drawn a lofty seed early on, in this case Nadal in the opening round. Last year in New York he faced Juan Martin del Potro in the second round. The upshot is that even last year’s modest points will almost certainly go undefended. It’s rotten luck, undoubtedly, though one shouldn’t pretend there aren’t other reasons why Harrison isn’t ranked high enough to elude this kind of misfortune. It’s bound to be a featured night match, and thus a test of McEnroe’s generosity. It’s hard to imagine either Nadal or Federer will suffer upsets before they meet in the quarterfinals, unlike at Wimbledon, where I totally foresaw those early losses to Steve Darcis and Sergiy Stakhovsky, but didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

    Only one first round match really stands out – setting to one side the possibility that those qualifiers will entertainingly pulverise each other in fifth set tiebreaks – which is the one between Lleyton Hewitt and Brian Baker. Joints creaking and metal pins clanking, they’ll contest the chance to play del Potro. Whoever comes out of all that, it’ll be a triumph for medical science.

    Credits: Cover Photo: Wallyg, (Creative Commons License)

  • We Might Run Out Of Words

    We Might Run Out Of Words

    Cincinnati Masters, Final

    (4) Nadal d. Isner, 7-6(8), 7-6(3)

    Rafael Nadal has won the Cincinnati Masters, defeating John Isner to claim his second Masters event in two weeks, and his third hardcourt Masters of the year. Prolonged domination by a single player presents a writer with peculiar difficulties, assuming the writer is at all disinclined to repeat themself. This was a real problem in 2011, when Novak Djokovic refused to stop winning. I was not writing about tennis at the time, but I assume it must have been an issue in 2005 and 2006, when Roger Federer was nearly unbeatable, and very nearly unbeaten. Wimbledon aside, so it is proving this season with Nadal. I’d suggest there’s no higher compliment than to concede that if he keeps going on like this, we might run out of words.

    For example, there was little that could usefully be said after Nadal’s Rome triumph that hadn’t been said following the Madrid final a week earlier. His new Swiss opponent had greater pedigree, but won even fewer games. Similarly, today’s victory over a towering North American with a frightening serve and maneuverability on par with the Exxon Valdez more or less reprised last week’s. Last week it was local favourite Milos Raonic, whose trip to the Montreal final propelled him into the top ten. This week it was local favourite John Isner, whose passage to the final was if anything more impressive, and had the laudable effect of ensuring the United States has a man inside the top twenty for their home Grand Slam. Both giants progressed to the final after defeating Juan Martin del Potro in memorable fashion. Raonic, you will recall, generating fleeting controversy by delivering a series of roundhouse kicks to the net while cackling that he was “above the law.” Meanwhile Isner, more conventionally, saved a match point in a marathon. Isner also beat Raonic this week. The similarities mount, but ultimately amount to little. What really matters is that Nadal beat everyone. Again.

    Today’s final wasn’t the most memorable example we’ve witnessed this year, or even today, given that it was entirely upstaged by the women’s final that followed. Had it been a quarterfinal it would have already faded into the sepia backdrop of general forgetting: yet another example of a monstrous serve guaranteeing tiebreakers, which were then decided by the better player’s superior fortitude and technique. But it was a final, and so gains some luster by default, and thus bears recounting.

    If for no other reason, it was an interesting study in how two sets can be numerically similar yet end up feeling totally different. The first set was quite exciting, featuring multiple set points for both men, mostly in the fraught tiebreaker. Isner saved those he faced with typically muscular points on serve, but failed utterly to impose himself on return. Mark Petchey was correct in commentary when he remarked on the strange contrast that Isner presents us with. On serve he has an “all-American attacking game,” yet on return is “negative and pushy.” He did get an impressive number of Nadal’s serves back, yet they never had much on them, and thereafter he won very few points. It didn’t help that he facing one of the most punishing baseliners ever to heft a racquet. Nadal finally got a set point on his own serve, and duly took it.

    The second set, on the other hand, was frankly dull. If the first set demonstrated that tiebreakers are considerably more interesting when their arrival isn’t necessarily inevitable, the second set proved the corollary. Both men continued to serve magnificently, and return ineffectively. Nadal was more or less guaranteed a point whenever he switched up his serve wide to the deuce court, since the undeniable lethality of the American’s forehand requires that his feet are set. Nadal lifted and played a smart tiebreaker, and never looked in trouble. After victory he collapsed onto his back, and generally made it apparent just what winning Cincinnati means to him. It seems this tournament had featured on more bucket-lists than Serena Williams’s. The strange vase that Cincinnati passes off as a trophy proved every bit as awkward to bite as Montreal’s silverware had been.

    This was, of course, Nadal’s first strange vase. One can essay complicated reasons why he has never won this title before, including surface speed and bounce, opponents, balls, proximity to the US Open, and the misfortune a couple of years ago to combine with Fernando Verdasco to thrash out one of the worst tennis matches in living memory. All of these factors have merit, and combined meant that no one was surprised at his lack of success here (as opposed to Federer’s oddly dismal record at Bercy until 2011). Nadal characteristically offered the simpler explanation that he’d simply never played well in Cincinnati, and that this week he did. It was a salutary reminder that complicated rationales aren’t necessarily wrong so much as unnecessary, and that elite athletes generally operate with a savant-like eschewal of nuance. This is how Roger Rasheed can function effectively as a coach while employing the discursive range of an inspirational fridge magnet. The manner of Nadal’s progress this week certainly bore his contention out. There was no match in which he wasn’t the clear favourite – including the quarterfinal against the defending champion Federer – in which playing to his strengths would more than likely ensure victory. He just had to play well.

    This isn’t to suggest he didn’t have his difficulties. Federer came within a couple of games of winning, and Grigor Dimitrov boldly grabbed a set when Nadal allowed his focus to waver. However, this meant that in addition to savouring their hero’s triumph, the more martially-inclined portions of Nadal’s fan base could indulge themselves in their most cherished conceit, which is that of the Spaniard as el guerrero imparable. After what amounted to a fairly unremarkable defeat of Dimitrov there was no shortage of chest-beating proclamations that Nadal had not been at his best, yet had “found a way to win.” Insofar as the “way” consisted of “being better than his opponent at nearly every aspect of tennis,” I suppose it’s not inaccurate. What’s false is the emphasis. He didn’t win because of his warrior spirit, but because he’s a very good tennis player.

    Indeed, anyone still insisting Nadal isn’t the very best tennis player in the world right now sounds increasingly deluded. He will arrive in New York determined to become the first man to sweep the US summer since Andy Roddick ten years ago, and only the third man to do so ever (Pat Rafter also managed it in 1998, to Pete Sampras’s unstinting disgust). He will return to the number two ranking tomorrow, and could well return to number one if he sustains his current form for a few weeks in New York. Although the bookmakers in their wisdom have retained Djokovic and Andy Murray as US Open favourites ahead of the Spaniard, it will take a reckless punter to bet against him.

    But that’s all in the future. For now, Nadal has won twenty-six Masters 1000 titles, including a record-equalling five this season. It’s an accomplishment that is only enhanced by recalling that none of the five were Monte Carlo, which otherwise exists only that he might augment his tally by one each year. Aside from that, the only other Masters event Nadal hasn’t won this year was Miami, which he didn’t play. In order to break the record, which was only set two years ago by Djokovic, Nadal will have to win either Shanghai or Paris. History suggests that he is unlikely to do so. Then again, the Spaniard has already spent the season showing history just where it can shove its suggestions.

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  • Reliably Inspirational

    Reliably Inspirational

    A fine third day at the Cincinnati Masters yielded the best selection of professional men’s tennis matches in months. As ever in North America this wondrous congregation of talent was witnessed by a formidable array of half-empty stands. Even by the night-match, which featured Roger Federer, the stadium appeared barely two-thirds full. For some reason, Americans collectively find it hard to get excited by a tennis tournament until the later rounds, an apathy shared by their main television networks. CBS doesn’t even show up to the US Open until the last weekend, which it then more or less ruins for everyone. It won’t grace Cincinnati until the last Sunday, while even ESPN won’t trouble itself until Thursday. In the meantime there’s the redoubtable Tennis Channel, as ever a mixed blessing. On the one hand live coverage is hard to fault. On the other hand there’s Justin Gimelstob.

    It could be that the long decades of dominance have taught the American sporting public to assume that their countrymen will always feature in the later stages. Why trouble yourself earlier? We Australians long ago learned to cease making such assumptions. If we want to see our compatriots, we tune in early, preferably for qualifying. Now that there are no American men inside the top twenty, it might be wise for them to do the same. Of course, it could be that from my current vantage, precisely one Pacific Ocean and half a continent away, I’m totally misreading it and Cincinnati’s stands are actually jam-packed. Perhaps it’s merely a trick of the telecast: as well as adding twenty pounds, the camera subtracts a thousand spectators.

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    Dimitrov d. Baker, 6-3, 6-2

    CBS and ESPN viewers certainly won’t catch any sight of the reliably inspirational Brian Baker, who today went down easily to Grigor Dimitrov. This is a shame, since he’s worth watching and hasn’t been spotted in months. Having cruelly fallen in the second round of this year’s Australian Open – on a day of sustained carnage his injury was at once the worst and the least surprising – Baker was away from professional tennis for almost seven months. Numerically-gifted readers will note that this is the same amount of time that Rafael Nadal missed. Baker’s absence generated considerably less interest. Of course, Baker being absent from the men’s tour is hardly remarkable; it has been one of the constants of professional tennis for the last decade, like top four domination, or the microwave radiation that saturates the cosmos. The anomaly wasn’t that Baker was away, but that he had – and has – returned.

    Naturally, I’m pleased he has, since I enjoy the way he plays: at his best slightly reminiscent of Nikolay Davydenko in a way that Davydenko himself rarely is anymore. Beyond that, though, I enjoy the way Baker encourages me in my fantasy that he’s a club player on history’s greatest roll. The truth of the matter is decidedly different, if not completely opposite – he is a talented pro who has had to do everything the hardest way, and whose body boasts only slightly less metal than Wolverine’s. But I still experience a slight thrill every time he puts away a simple volley. Good for him, I think, knowing I might well have duffed it into the back fence.

    Sadly today he missed too many simple volleys against Grigor Dimitrov, along with just about everything else. It was probably to be expected. Given his modest earnings over the years, it’s not as though he could afford authentic adamantium for his metal joints. He was compelled to go with cheaper base metals. Rust was thus inevitable. As is often the case it doesn’t cause a consistent loss of quality so much as wildly oscillating inconsistency. Baker comfortably saw off Denis Istomin yesterday, but might not have today given the chance. Instead he faced Dimitrov, for whom the phrase “wildly oscillating inconsistency” might well have been coined. Still, he was on his game today, and looked a clear class above his opponent. Baker will get better. For now it’s just a pleasure to see him back, and a pleasant surprise to see he still boasts a full complement of limbs. His matches are only ever one mishap away from recreating the Omaha Beach scene from Saving Private Ryan.

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    (3) Ferrer d. Harrison, 7-6(5), 3-6, 6-4

    Speaking of Private Ryan, or at any rate Senior Cadet Ryan, Harrison managed to lose his nineteenth straight match to a top ten opponent a short while later, against a curiously vulnerable David Ferrer. The Spaniard’s lofty ranking was only apparent from the number next to his name, and not from the quality of his play. The Spaniard has been injured for some time, and has barely looked himself since Roland Garros. If ever Harrison was going to beat him, it was today. Still, the American might take some solace from getting so close: he led by a break in the third set, and was briefly magnificent in breaking back late in the match. One doubts whether he will be consoled by that, however, since he continues to give a strong impression that he hates losing far too much to find it merely instructive. The game in which Harrison was broken back in the final set featured an ace clocked at 152 mph, as they measure such things in the Cayman Islands, or 244 kph as measured elsewhere. If this was an accurate reading, then it would be the seventh fastest serve of all time. But I doubt whether it was an accurate reading. The serve even had topspin on it.

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    (5) Federer d. Kohlschreiber, 6-3, 7-6(7)

    Roger Federer rounded out the schedule by defeating Philipp Kohlschreiber for the seventh time, so far without a loss. Neither man appeared to be brimming with confidence, and based on their combined unforced error of sixty-five they had every reason not to be. Federer thoughtfully commemorated each of his previous six victories over Kohlschreiber with a squandered break point early in the first set: performance art of the very highest order, as Robbie Koenig might say. But he mostly served well himself, and broke in Kohlschreiber’s next game. Even if Federer somehow defends his Cincinnati title, he won’t be reprising last year’s heroic effort, in which he took the event without ever dropping serve. He gifted a non-crucial break away in the second set, a favour the ever-courteous German repaid immediately. They went back to scrappy holds. Mercifully this couldn’t continue indefinitely, and the tiebreak came around. A match that had been defined mostly by forehand errors thus found its apotheosis. Federer led by 5-2, then saved a set point at 7-8 with an out serve. He finally took the match on his second match point, ironically with a forehand that landed in, a development so miraculous in the circumstances than Kohlschreiber could merely stare at it, dumbfounded.

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    In other news, Feliciano Lopez won his first Masters level match this year, over Kei Nishikori. Milos Raonic, the first Canadian player ever to enter the top ten, nearly became the first top ten player to lose to Jack Sock. Mikhail Youzhny and Ernest Gulbis turned up dressed identically, a deplorable faux pas that left the crowd aghast. All twenty-five of them.