February 14, 2011

Don’t Watch This Space

Yet another week with three tournaments running concurrently, meaning that for the general tennis fan – whose interest begins and ends at the majors – there is a vast array of tennis to not get caught up in. Depending on how particular you are about the tennis you ignore, this week featured something for everyone.

ABN AMRO World Tennis Tournament, Rotterdam

If eschewing high quality tennis between big names is your thing, then Rotterdam was, as ever, the one to steer clear of. Judging by the deserted stands, the good burghers of Rotterdam felt the same and stayed away in droves. However, the problem with Rotterdam is that the names are big enough that the event almost intrudes into public awareness. I actually caught a highlight of Robin Soderling beating Viktor Troicki on one of those late-night sports round up shows, presumably as desperate filler when no Premier League footballer disgraced himself that day, as unlikely as that sounds.

Soderling’s first victory over the mercurial Philip Kohlschreiber was the match of the week (closely followed by Tomas Berdych’s pulsating win over Dmitry Tursonov, still inching along that comeback trail). As with all of their encounters it crescendoed to a final set tiebreaker. Other firsts included Soderling defending a title for the first time, Troicki moving into the top 20, and Andy Murray playing when he should have been convalescing, and then losing to Marcos Baghdatis for the third time. He’s never done that before. All told, it was the finest tournament played this week, and the extent to which no one watched it will be matched only by the thoroughness with which no one remembers it, given what was going down elsewhere.

Brasil Open, Costa do Sauipe

I am unsure how much faith to place in the propaganda shots put out by the ATP, in which half of Bahia apparently descended on Costa do Sauipe, then broke into impromptu carnival at the prospect of a 250 event rocking through town. The title sponsor being Gillette, there were plenty of photo-shoots involving the players shaving. In their spare moments they played tennis. Crowd shots suggested this part was almost as well attended as the spontaneous party erupting in the street outside. If this sounds like the kind of malarkey you can do without, then you could do worse than overlook the Brasil Open.

The anticipated rematch between Tommy Robredo and Fabio Fognini came to nothing. There is bad blood there, but none of it spilled onto the court. In winning, Robredo could summon nothing more piercing than a pointed ‘Vamos’. As with Rotterdam, the top seed took the event. In Brazil that honour fell to Nicolas Almagro, who is looking like the best claycourter in the world, apart from the four or five guys who are too important to play events like this one. In the final he saw off the spirited and fascinating Alexandr Dolgopolov. It was Almagro’s eighth career title, and Dolgopolov’s first career final. Of all the young players coming through there are only two more eagerly watched than Dolgopolov. These are Grigor Dimitrov, who went out early in Rotterdam, and Milos Raonic, who won San Jose, which rather eclipsed Dolgopolov’s achievement.

SAP Open, San Jose

The organisers of the SAP Open have proved to my satisfaction that an ice hockey stadium is an excellent place to store unused bleachers. Sadly, no one turned up to appreciate their effort, which was a shame since had they done so, some of them might have noticed there was a tennis tournament on. Of the three events being mostly ignored around the world this week, San Jose is the one that will be remembered longest, which is ironic as it featured the least memorable tennis.

San Jose will be remembered because Juan Martin del Potro’s comeback progressed to the semifinal, beating Lleyton Hewitt en route, who always paradoxically feels like he’s both coming back and never away. James Blake is also coming back. He’ll be coming back again in Memphis next week, where we’ll be treated once more to his theory that the way to stop your shots going out is to hit them harder. It will be remembered by Fernando Verdasco for that first tiebreak in the final, when he blew four straight set points against a youngster in his first tour final, at the precisely the moment when an established top ten player should have slammed shut the door. It won’t be remembered for Verdasco’s refusal to shake the umpire’s hand since, sadly, that seems to be happening all the time of late.

Mostly, though, it will be remembered for Milos Raonic, who claimed his first ATP title in just his eighth main draw appearance. Four weeks ago he was ranked 152nd in the world. He is now No.59, and moving fast. If, like the citizens of San Jose, you don’t want to see more of this guy, don’t watch this space.

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February 13, 2011

Why Compare?

Following his defeat by Novak Djokovic in this year’s Australian Open, Roger Federer was invited to compare the loss to the ostensibly similar one three years earlier. Baffled, Federer considered the request for a few seconds, then blurted ‘Why compare?’, before admonishing the journalist for posing such a foolish question in the first place.

Foolish or not, we can see where the journalist was coming from. Both losses came to the same guy at the same stage of the same tournament, and even boasted a similar scoreline. When that many similarities accrue, it grows difficult not to discern a pattern revealing itself. Without patterns there is no meaning, and without meaning there is little to write about beyond a wretched summary of events. In the journalist’s mind, there was probably a useful comparison to be made, one worth exploring. For Federer, however, the connection did not exist, and the act of comparing the two events was superficial, irrelevant, meaningless. He has played Djokovic any number of times since early 2008, and must have spent innumerable hours with him off court in a range of activities. A match from three years earlier, no matter how similar, was uselessly remote, and provided no insight into his latest defeat.

There is no good reason why Federer has never won the Paris Indoors, and yet it remains the only Masters tournament at which he has never even reached the final. The conditions are suitable: fast and indoors – not radically unlike the Basel event where he savours near-annual triumph. Yet, prior to 2010, the great Swiss hadn’t progressed to the quarterfinals at Bercy since 2003. The assumption that there is just something about the event that doesn’t sit well with him is an easy one to make. Federer was asked about it during the event last year. As he points out, for several years he was injured and didn’t play (2004-2006), while in 2008 his back seized up, and in 2009 he had a bad day against a surging Julien Benneteau. There was also 2007, when like everyone else he fell to an inspired David Nalbandian. The closest Federer comes to a unifying reason is to suggest that the event’s scheduling means he was often under extra pressure trying to qualify for the Year End Championships, although this hasn’t been the case since at least 2003. The main point, however, was that there was no single good reason, but lots of little good reasons, and none of them were related to each other. His take on it: ‘Next thing you know your career has not been very good here in Paris at the Indoors.’ So it goes.

It is the writer’s lot to tease order from the mess of life, thereby establishing narrative, and creating meaning. That’s all well and good – the tendency is basically impossible to gainsay – but it is not without risk. Firstly, the temptation is strong to uncover connections where there are none. There is such a thing as coincidence, although it’s something good narrative prefers to avoid. Indeed, coincidence is a device shared by reality and bad narrative, the latter because it’s lazy, and the former because it’s real. Federer’s continued failure to win the Paris Indoors is really a result of coincidence. There is no issue for him to address. It is dull copy to say so, which is presumably why fans and journalists go on searching for a grand unifying theory, but it is no less true for that. But if you search hard enough for patterns, you’ll discover them everywhere. It’s a gift that sports fans and journalists share with conspiracy crackpots, which perhaps explains why the language in either case is so alike.

The second issue is that in being seduced by specious connections, one can consequently grow prescriptive. Thus some pundits, aware that Robin Soderling has never performed well at the Australian Open, fell over themselves to write the Swede off even as he claimed the Brisbane title and snatched the No.4 seeding. To them, Soderling’s accumulated results pointed clearly to an underlying issue – which was never articulated very clearly – one which would again impair his progress. His fourth round loss to Alexandr Dolgopolov doubtless only buttressed this belief. But Soderling is so improved a player since 2009 Roland Garros that his results before that are almost meaningless, at least as a form guide. As well as coincidence, there is also such as thing as just having a bad day. Anyone who has played tennis knows that these can happen. Sometimes nothing works even with the best preparation in the world. Top players are better at managing it, but it’s still a reality, and the margins are commensurately smaller. At this level, a day doesn’t have to be very bad before it can’t be worse.

I’ll conclude this discussion – which is not really about Federer or Soderling -  in a forthcoming  entry. I’ll look at some examples of patterns that are useful – many are – and explore how much we can realistically read into Federer losing four times after holding match points. That bit really will be about Federer.

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February 11, 2011

Great Matches You’ve Probably Never Heard Of #3

Adidas International 2003, Final

Lee d. Ferrero, 4/6 7/6 7/6

When Hyung-Taik Lee defeated Juan Carlos Ferrero in the final of the 2003 Adidas International, he gained membership to that select club of players who have won an ATP title as a qualifier, and to the exclusive club of men to have done so while Korean. To date, this latter club still boasts only one member. For exclusivity, that’s hard to top.

A few things should be noted. Firstly, the Sydney field in those days was generally strong, and in 2003 it was especially so. The top five seeds had all contested the Masters Cup the year before, and the perennially disappointing Roger Federer was the defending champion. Secondly, Lee did not benefit from a cakewalk draw, notwithstanding a walkover against Marat Safin in the quarterfinal. He overcame Nicolas Lapentti, Andy Roddick and Wayne Ferreira en route to the final, all without dropping a set. Nevertheless, come the final, he was the overwhelming underdog, although even these deserve their day.

Prior to his meteoric decline some year and a bit later, Ferrero was a player I was inclined to cheer against. It was nothing personal. Indeed, the only time I’ve met him he was exceedingly gracious (perhaps more so than he had to be, though that’s another story). Nonetheless, I invariably found the contained smoothness of his game unappealing. (There is no defensible reason for it, but that sensation of irrational antipathy should be familiar to any sports fan.) Consequently, sympathies in our house were very much directed Lee’s way. Lee had first come to my attention at the US Open some years earlier, when, again as a qualifier, he’d fought through to the fourth round, and there discovered Pete Sampras. He had achieved little enough in the interim, and indeed his career year didn’t arrive until 2007, when he reached No.36 in the world. In 2003 he remained a tour lightweight.

The final itself was a strange affair, although now that I’ve reviewed it with better perspective I can see how it fits into a discernible (if odd) category, whereas before it resisted easy taxonomy. It was a shocking upset perpetually at risk of becoming a routine win for the favourite. Ferrero was the better player, in general and even for much of the day. He came out in a rush, immediately broke, held, then moved to 15-40 on Lee’s next service game. Lee held, however, and Ferrero settled into the disproportionately frustrated slouch he would retain until the end. Still, he rode that initial break to the end of the set, and despite Lee’s level picking up and some excellent exchanges, it all seemed routine. Ferrero still looked superior as the second set got going, but somehow found himself at 2/5 30-40. He saved that set point, then three more in the next game, and then another three in the tiebreak. Lee was choking, and it’s worth recalling that he’d blown match points against Ferrero at the Sydney Olympics. Later, the Korean saved a match point serving at 4/5 in the third. Then it got tense. Some random observations:

  • The recording I watched had commentary in Korean. If you’re going to listen to commentary you don’t understand, it might as well be in the language of one of the players, and preferably the underdog. These guys were less than impartial, although I’m confident they stopped short of wishing actual harm on Ferrero.
  • Having said that, it was startling just how much of the commentary I could understand. Often a long stream of Korean would be punctuated with a phrase like ‘backhand up the line’. Does Korean lack words for ‘up’, ‘the’ and ‘line’? Same goes for ‘first serve’, or ‘double fault’, or even ‘nice volley’.
  • Ferrero’s game is not dissimilar to Novak Djokovic’s, in that they are so technically sound that even their errors look smooth. Their losses remain incoherent, in the literal sense. Afterwards my recollection never quite tallies with the scoreline. Memory tells me Ferrero controlled most of the baseline exchanges. The stats show Lee winning 64% of points on his second serve.

Ferrero was doubtless entitled to feel as entitled as he looked. As the French Open and Masters Cup finalist, he already numbered among the sport’s elite. Consequently, this loss meant little, just a rare stumble in his otherwise inexorable ascent to the top. Conversely, it was a pretty big deal in Korea, inspiring national celebrations and a phone call from the President, although Lee was in the shower and missed it. Paradorn Srichaphan had won Chennai a week earlier, and there was a widespread hope that Asian tennis had truly arrived, a floodgate opening. It wasn’t to be. Lee was reintroduced to reality by Andre Agassi the following week in Melbourne. Having fallen to Srichaphan at Wimbledon, and fallen injured at the Shanghai Masters Cup, Agassi had no time for the Asian tennis boom, and won 6/0 6/0 6/1.

Ultimately, the 2003 Sydney final signified little, except of course to Lee, for whom it meant everything. In the history of men’s tennis, it merits no more than a footnote, although that footnote would be remiss it if failed to mention how dramatic, anxious and often brilliant the experience was.

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February 9, 2011

Risking Censure

ABN AMRO World Tennis Tournament, Rotterdam

Tsonga d. Dimitrov, 6/4 6/4

Did you know that Grigor Dimitrov has modelled his groundstrokes on Roger Federer’s? Yes? I mention this purely for legal reasons since, judging by the commentary for every one of his matches, the censure attracted by not doing so is severe. No one can quite say what will happen if this fascinating fact goes unmentioned, since that has never happened. We are told that such close emulation of another player’s game can be ‘dangerous’, which I suspect is a definition of ‘dangerous’ somewhat removed from, say, the CIA’s, or Michael Jackson’s. I can’t really see the harm in it, and don’t subscribe to the view that it somehow curtails Dimitrov’s essential tennis personality, whatever that is. His technique is excellent, clearly, and he’s young. More troubling is that in addition to Federer’s strokes, Dimitrov seems determined to doggedly trace his idol’s career arc. We’re now at the point where initial promise is constantly frustrated, and he is overtaken by whomever the current iteration of Lleyton Hewitt is. Some lean years ahead, but he’s very soon to meet his future wife.

SAP Open, San Jose

Berankis d. Becker, 6/3 7/6

Raonic d. Malisse, 6/3 6/4

Realistically, Dimitrov would probably be better served by playing San Jose, where the field is considerably weaker, and a hungry Bulgarian in search of confidence and steak could notch some meaningful results. This was clearly the reasoning for his fellow-upstarts Ricardas Berankis and Milos Raonic, both of whom today posted very solid wins over much older and more experienced opponents. Last night Raonic also had a steak, according to the crushingly dull blog he’s maintaining in San Jose. Perhaps he’s more like Sampras than we realised.

Monfils d. Sampras, 7/6 6/4

The stream of last night’s exhibition match between Pete Sampras and Gael Monfils in San Jose was broadcast in high definition and commentated without distinction. It was all too much for my internet connection and my brain, respectively, especially when the stream would stutter to a stop whenever someone did something outstanding. This invariably involved Monfils running very fast or Sampras rushing the net. I know this because the commentator – from the ‘bro’ school of sports calling – would be saying things like ‘Woah! Serve and volleying! That’s some serve-volleying right there. Good old serve-volleying. Old-school California serve-volley!’ These were not separate comments, by the way, just the one.

It was the old-school Roman philosopher Seneca who first argued that frustrated expectations lie at the root of all rage. He lived before internet streaming, yet he somehow foresaw my urge to hurl my monitor into the wall. Matching his stoicism (which was legendary), I refrained, and saved myself the cost of a decent LCD panel. But I’m being churlish. A couple of years ago I couldn’t have watched tennis from San Jose at all. Last year year I couldn’t watch it as a high definition slideshow. Who knows what the future might bring? Perhaps in a few years I’ll be able to reach through my screen and throttle the commentator personally.

As for the match, it was the usual exhibition fare, which Monfils failed to enliven much with some usual exhibition antics, such as grabbing a camera from a photographer, or pocketing a ball that Sampras had ostentatiously mopped his brow with. It wasn’t hilarious, at least not in the league of Nicolas Mahut in drag. Still, Monfils appeared genuinely honoured to be there, and said as much several times in the interview afterwards. Actually, that was basically all he said. For his part, Sampras admitted he was pleased he’d held his own, before allowing himself to be goaded into trash-talking Andre Agassi, against whom he is due to perform an exhibition in a few weeks. It was all in good fun, or would be if anything between those two could be.

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February 7, 2011

That Almost Never Happens

Anderson d. Devvarman, 4/6 6/3 6/2

Dodig d. Berrer, 6/3 6/4

Kevin Anderson won his maiden ATP title in his home country this week, which is something that almost never happens. Indeed, in the entire history of this week, it has only happened twice, the other time being Ivan Dodig in Zagreb. You could say they were unprepared for the achievement, but both have clearly leafed through the relevant chapter in the ATP Media Relations Handbook (7th Edition): ‘This is the best thing that can happen to a player – to play at home in front of your own crowd and win your first title. I’m really happy and enjoying the moment. It’s been amazing all week; it’s an unbelievable experience. I didn’t have any pressure, I just tried to concentrate on my tennis and play point by point until the last point.’ Blandness of this calibre cuts through cultural differences, to the extent that I challenge anyone to guess which player actually said it. If you need a clue, it wasn’t the one promising to donate part of his winnings to the Save The Rhino campaign.

Dodig is the third Croatian to claim the Zagreb event in as many years, the others being Marin Cilic and Marin Cilic. Anderson is the first South African to win Johannesburg, and will probably remain the last person to win it ever. The SA Tennis Open’s contract is unlikely to be renewed next year, owing to its low profile, poor field, and the ATP’s determination to slim down the calendar.

Robredo d. Giraldo, 6/2 2/6 7/6

Meanwhile, over in Santiago, Tommy Robredo has taken his title haul to double figures, awakening from 3/5 down in final set to deflower final-virgin Santiago Giraldo. Had Girlado studied his Handbook a little closer, particularly the bit about playing ‘point by point until the last point’, we might have had three first time titlists this week. Really, it’s what weeks like this are for. Arguably the most interesting thing to happen in Santiago this week was Robredo’s openly antagonistic semifinal against Fabio Fognini, which ended with the Spaniard repeatedly refusing to shake hands, and Fognini loudly declaring him to be a ‘Pedazo de Mierda’. It was the kind of scene usually reserved for a Daniel Koellerer match, and the best part is that they’re drawn to meet in the first round of the Costa do Sauipe tournament next week.

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February 5, 2011

Luck of the Draw: Rotterdam

Novak Djokovic has pulled out of next week’s ABN AMRO World Tennis Tournament in Rotterdam. The cited reason is a shoulder strain, although given the absence of both Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer, is it unreasonable to suggest that his withdrawal signals a broader strategic alignment, one akin to embroidering your nickname on your clothes, and winning the odd Slam? Is Djokovic too good for events like these? To answer my own question: yes, it is an unreasonable suggestion. Facetious, even, but I couldn’t help myself.

For any other ATP event in fallow February – with the possible exception of Dubai – Djokovic’s withdrawal would be crippling. But Rotterdam almost invariably attracts a very solid roster, and this year’s is excellent, just about worthy of a Masters 1000. Furthermore, without the expansive seeding of a major to bog down the early rounds, there are marquee match-ups from the get-go.

Robin Soderling is the defending champion, and the top seed thanks to Djokovic’s withdrawal. Until Bercy rolls round, this will be the most prestigious title he has ever had to defend. First up he faces Robin Haase. Balls will be struck, tremendously. For his sins – which are now considerable – Andy Murray has drawn Marcos Baghdatis in the opening round. Had the burly Cypriot played this week, he would have been top seed at any event he deigned to grace. Not in Rotterdam. It will be a stern test of Murray’s assertion that he won’t be reprising last year’s prolonged slump, although eight days is still a taxing turn-around from Melbourne.

Cult fan-bases will collide when Nikolay Davydenko takes on Michael Llodra, while Ernests Gulbis and Thiemo de Bakker will wage separate wars against their own wills, meanwhile battling each other for control of the self-destruct button. Any hope that Jo-Wilfried Tsonga or Marin Cilic could rest slightly easier, having drawn qualifiers, was rapidly quashed by a glance at the qualifying event, which is already underway. The 16-man qualifying draw is a further testament to the strength of the Rotterdam field. Philipp Petzschner, raffishly bearded of late, is the top seed. Other notables include Dimitry Tursonov still ambling up the comeback trail, Julien Benneteau, and Grigor Dimitrov. These guys are not early round gimmes at the best of times, and now they’ll be hardened from a couple of tune-up matches. Any of them could wreck Cilic’s week in no time flat. I don’t much care for making bold predictions based on draws, but I’m going to lock that one in.

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February 4, 2011

An Ever Expanding Category

Babolat and Roland Garros, the ‘Ultimate Tennis Experience’.

As exercises in synergy go, a partnership between a tennis tournament and a manufacturer of tennis equipment is not a bad fit, especially if they’re both ‘driven by a unifying, common value: passion for tennis’. Nevertheless, to the ever-expanding category named Stuff That Only Makes Sense When Viewed Cynically, we can now add the decision by the French Tennis Federation to replace the venerably worthy Dunlop balls at the French Open with Babolats. If nothing else, it ensures that the inevitable winner – Rafael Nadal – won’t have to soil his strings with a rival company’s equipment. Indeed, if Nike persists in kitting him out in oiled vinyl, we may see him sporting Babolat duds, too – a clean sweep.

The old Dunlop ball was by all accounts heavier than the ‘new’ Babolat. It is also used in every substantial clay event preceding the French Open. Players take this kind of differential pretty seriously – some claim ball dynamics are as essential as surface variation – and they will now be arriving in Paris to strikingly different conditions. This is something they have complained about before, and was the primary reason why so much money and effort was devoted to switching the Rome and Madrid Masters events. Madrid was considered an inadequate warm-up, since its altitude means it plays much faster. Unlike Paris, which on a cool damp day plays like treacle, shots in Madrid tend to fly on the players, which is an interesting effect, one that can be partially simulated by using lighter balls. Like Babolats.

As I say, the decision makes ample sense if viewed cynically. Money talks, a fact that was sufficiently clear already, but is rendered in searing clarity when viewed within the context of Babolat’s rather shyly titled ‘Ultimate Tennis Experience’, which sounds like bad news for those us hoping to experience tennis again at a later date. In practical terms, it means that, in addition to the balls, Babolat will be providing stringing services and a range of Roland Garros badged clothing. Advertising featuring Nadal will be even more prominent than before, if only that were possible.

The full press release – apparently translated from French by a not very bright robot – is available here. It showcases the usual eagerness to cram as many broadly synonymous terms into as short a space as possible. Thus we discover that Babolat will deliver ‘know-how and expertise’, presumably gained through its passionate commitment to ‘inventing, innovating and designing’. Brilliant.

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February 4, 2011

So Far From Anywhere

The most rewarding thing about the disparate little events huddled in the shadows of the Grand Slams is how, lacking the cachet to pull big names, they tend to attract sizable contingents of locals, provided there is a contingent available. This can prove interesting for any number of reasons, mostly due to prevailing conditions, culture and the attractiveness of those involved. Half the field in Zagreb are mercurial Slavs, by turns zany and lugubrious. Meanwhile, at the Movistar Open half the players, aptly, look like movie-stars. Think Tomas Bellucci, Rui Machado, Potito Starace.* Don’t think David Nalbandian or Juan Ignacio Chela.

What about Johannesburg? Well, to echo Porfirio Diaz’ famous lament for Mexico: ‘Poor SA Tennis Open! So close to the Australian Open, so far from anywhere.’** It’s just not working out, is it? Notwithstanding its relative youth, when an event is being overshadowed by Zagreb and Santiago, hardly titans of the ATP circuit, there’s an issue somewhere. In order for a tournament like this one to prevail, it really needs an angle, something to offer beyond meagre ranking points, a small prize-pool and a couple of long-haul flights. Zagreb is close to home for a host of second-tier Europeans, while the South American swing allows the dirtballers to sink their teeth into some tasty clay for the first time in months.

This biggest name the SA Tennis Open has so far attracted is Jo-Wilfried Tsonga a few years ago, but even winning it was insufficient incentive to return. He looks pretty chuffed in the photos, clutching that absurd trophy, but he doubtless looks the same after a really good one-night-stand, with a similar disinclination to stick around. This year the top seed and defending champion is Feliciano Lopez, who won zero matches and might have his work cut out negotiating an appearance fee come 2012. Some have labelled the event a glorified Challenger, but that’s not terribly fair on Challengers, a few of which are pretty classy. Last year the Lugarno Challenger final saw Stan Wawrinka beat Starace in three sets, which from a dollar-for-entertainment perspective delivered superior value to the Australian Open final, tickets for which cost roughly three cows and your firstborn son.

Nonetheless, if you’re South African and you care, you’re hopefully delighted at the efforts of Kevin Anderson, Fritz Wolmarans, Rik de Voest and Izak Van der Merwe, all but the first of whom are new to me. I’m not certain their names will ever eclipse, say, Jacques Kallis in their home country, even after this week, but they’re making the most of their opportunities. The issue is that the opportunities have arisen due to the big names not being very big and going out early. What the event is crying out for is some bigger names, turning up and doing well. If that were to happen, and a local was to go deep, then that would be something to stay home about.
* In the vein of my ‘organic gruel’ Google experience from the other day, I tried searching for ‘Potito Starace’ but sadly all the results featured the Italian tennis player, and nothing about potato starch, proving that you can’t preempt these things.
** ‘Poor Mexico! So far from God, so close to the United States.’

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February 3, 2011

Thrill Machine

SA Tennis Open, South Africa

Greul d. Raonic, 7/6 6/4

The supercharged Milos ‘Pistol’ Raonic bandwagon roars on. His excellent Melbourne adventure saw him advance some 58 spots, departing Australia at No.94. His momentum has carried him into the SA Tennis Open, where he has once again burst through qualifying, and then upended the No.2 seed Yen-Hsun Lu in the first round. The bandwagon is picking up a lot of new passengers – friends accrue when the weather is fair – and there was even spirited talk of him taking the event. After all, this is the kind of shindig made for breakthrough titlists. The top seed was Feliciano Lopez, which says it all. Regrettably, predictions of a maiden ATP title came to naught. It is frequently the way for the youngster on the make. A scintillating upset win is immediately contrasted by a disappointing effort when they should well have fancied their chances, especially if the opponent is a no-nonsense veteran like Simon Greul. Did I say no-nonsense? Actually, Greul seemed determined to blow it, double-faulting away a couple of match points before stumbling home, sheepishly.

Raonic should not be too downcast, and nor should his myriad new friends (although some have decamped at the first hint of clouds). This kind of thing happens to all the greats on their way up: Pete Sampras followed up his first US Open title by folding to the arch-Gallic and 134th ranked Guillaume Raoux. Sorry, that’s precisely the comparison I swore I would eschew. Another important lesson for Milos!

A surpassingly strange and unrelated aside: did you know that googling ‘Raonic Greul’ yields a great deal of information about ‘organic gruel’, almost none of it interesting?

PBZ Zagreb Indoors, Croatia

Brands d. Karlovic, 7/5 6/7 7/6

But for that single break at the death of the first set, this is the scoreline that will be chiselled into Ivo Karlovic’s tombstone. It tells you almost everything you need to know, about his tennis in any case. Watching this match slowly congeal – predictably, tediously, with the returner numbly trudging across the baseline – I was reminded that Karlovic doesn’t play matches, he inflicts them; on opponents, on the crowd, on the sport. He seems like a gentle, sensitive kind of guy, somewhat doleful. I wonder, in all earnestness, does he have a single fan outside of Croatia? It is not a generous question, granted. But even John Isner can boast support across the globe, although compared to Karlovic – and Daniel Brands – he’s a bona fide thrill-machine.

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February 1, 2011

Valuable Lessons

With the year’s first major concluded, the annual diaspora has commenced, with the haves retiring to their palaces, and the hoi-polloi spreading to South America, South Africa, and West Croatia. As an Australian, this signals the end of tennis being played at a reasonable hour, until the Asian swing in late September. As ever, the general Sehnsucht is profound, pretentious even. So many questions, mostly unanswered. What did it signify? What did we learn?

1. We learned that Roger Federer is done for. Actually, did we? The great man looked reasonable en route to the semifinal, whereupon he was out-manoeuvred and out-hit by a rampant Novak Djokovic. Federer played decently, but he was hardly in the mode commonly and lovingly dubbed ‘full flight’. Still, he has accrued Grand Slam titles playing no better – the 2006 Australian Open leaps to mind – but at no point in those tournaments did he encounter anything as fearsome as Djokovic in this form. Coming to Melbourne, Federer was clearly the man to beat, and his fans shouldn’t be too dismayed that someone did. The man himself didn’t look especially beaten afterwards; he knew he’d played a reasonable match, but that Djokovic was a class above. As the first set grew furious, Janko Tipsarevic was heard on Twitter: ‘Federer vs Djokovic tennis level is just insane….’ I was immediately put in mind of that scene in The Matrix when the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar gathers round breathlessly to watch Neo and Morpheus spar. If Federer can elicit this kind of response from a fellow pro when not playing his best, I would hazard that he has some game in him yet.

2. We learned that Juan Martin del Potro’s comeback is going to take some time. Anyone with a brain not composed of lime jelly already knew that, but now those with cerebral damage know it, too. There had undoubtedly been a cherished hope among his fan-base that the giant Argentine would miraculously storm his way to the title. But when he followed up a tough win over Feliciano Lopez with a meek loss to Florian Mayer, then contrived the same combination with Dudi Sela and Marcos Baghdatis respectively, the message was clear. The message had been clear for some time, since he’d already told us: the return will take months, not weeks. Even this is sounding optimistic.

3. We’ve learned that Channel 7’s tennis coverage still languishes somewhere shy of perfect, even with John Alexander otherwise occupied (an answered prayer, that one). That said, Eurosport was worse, since it featured the endlessly painful Mats Wilander, and the painfully ebullient Barbara Schett. Understandably, English is not Schett’s first language, but this can often work in one’s favour. Played right, it can lend a certain exotic allure. Schett, who routinely conducted some of the worst post-match interviews ever witnessed by humankind, just sounded like a half-wit. ESPN was, as ever, best avoided, since you knew what to expect: a celebration of commercial patriotism that was only outdone by the locals through home-court advantage. In terms of coverage, the stand-out was once again AO Radio, streamed through the Australian Open website. It was ideal when synchronised with the images on television, although this rarely worked because Channel 7 kept delaying the broadcast in order to reliably miss the first point of each game, and the first game of each set.

4. We learned that the first reward awaiting young players breaking through is being saddled with a tired comparison to a former (or even current) great. Thus Milos Raonic is the new Pete Sampras. Alexandr Dolgopolov is the second coming of Marcello Rios, and Bernard Tomic is the fifth coming of Miloslav Mecir, an egregious comparison given that the ‘Big Cat’ was so nicknamed for his nimbleness. Grigor Dimitrov, who is currently suffering under a near-meaningless two-week suspension for striking an official last year, is the latest ‘Baby Federer’. (Richard Gasquet, the first ‘Baby Federer’, has his sights set on becoming the next James Blake.) Really, what we’ve learned is that too many fans and journalists are united by their inability to come up with an original way to describe new players. Furthermore, their paucity of expression results in pointless pressure. When you suggest someone plays like Pete Sampras, you aren’t just saying their style is vaguely reminiscent. You’re forming an association, creating an expectation, and ensuring that the poor kid will have to field absurd questions about it sooner rather than never. Mark my words.

Perhaps we’ve only learned that most sports journalism is complacent and self-serving, but we already knew that.

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