The Next Point

Rome Masters, Final

(5) Nadal d. (2) Federer, 6/1 6/3

Rafael Nadal today won his seventh Rome title, in the process claiming his twenty-fourth Masters trophy and establishing a favouritism for Roland Garros so clear that to go on denying it would be to court ridicule. One could be glib, and point out that Roger Federer was there, too. But a more accurate assessment would be that Federer’s presence was fundamental to the final score, if not to the outcome. The widespread assumption coming into the match was that the Swiss would probably perform adequately, and would therefore lose quite thoroughly. Instead he played awfully, which made it awkward to watch.

Such matches present anyone determined to write about them with a problem, especially if that writer is eager to push the word count beyond four hundred yet avoid a verbatim reprisal of previous material. (The truth is that it would be more fun to write up the final of the Bordeaux Challenger, which turned out to be an excellent encounter between Gael Monfils and Michael Llodra, played in fine spirits amid a great atmosphere. Monfils won 7/5 7/6, for the record.) Anything that can be said about Nadal’s clay court prowess has been covered exhaustively, and everything I wrote after last week’s Madrid final remains more than pertinent. Furthermore, one need not tarry overlong in deconstructing a result the players spent so little time putting together.

My alternative, therefore, is to digress. I can discuss broader trends, and examine at how this result continues or bucks them, thus proving my profound wisdom. I can point out flaws in common knowledge, which allows me the warm glow of iconoclasm. There is also an opportunity to loft oneself into rarefied allusion. This is an especially attractive option in the Italian capital, where few can resist the temptation to buttress their point with Roman precedent, or at least an ominous Latin quote or two. Indeed, as I’ve said, the Foro Italico owes its existence to Mussolini’s determination to make precisely such a point. It’s also a nice way to bring something a little different into the reporting of tennis, since too many tennis writers write like people who don’t read. If I’m really short on material I could discuss Federer’s haircut.

I suppose I should talk about the match a bit. The first game was Federer’s best, featuring five points, four of which were winners, and three of which were his. This failed utterly to foreshadow what was to come, except insofar as it revealed that Federer’s approach would entail all out aggression at any cost. The next six games were more indicative. Nadal won them all, looking perfectly superior in most neutral rallies, allowing Federer next to no free points on serve (I think the Spaniard missed one return in that first set) and emphatically answering any query Federer put to him. But it also revealed that the true cost of Federer’s relentless attack was an alarmingly mounting error tally. He finished that first set with fifteen.

A note should be made here. There is a persistent view that the unforced errors produced by Nadal’s opponents aren’t really unforced at all, but are a reflection of the pressure instilled by coping with his game, particularly on clay. Such arguments naturally predate Nadal. Indeed, they’ve been kicking around for a long time, probably since people first began counting unforced errors. As an idea it gained widespread currency during Andre Agassi’s later career (the cloyingly monk-like part after he’d recovered from the allegedly degrading horrors of being very rich and famous). Agassi’s contract stipulated that anyone commentating his matches had to declare that his opponent’s errors were really inspired by the terror of seeing him planted up on the baseline. There’s probably something to this idea, but it’s also easy to make too much of it. A related truism is that great returners provoke more double faults, which seems self-evident, but isn’t actually borne out by the numbers.

The advantage of today’s match being so short is that one could watch it again. Doing so bore out my initial impression that Federer’s heroic error tally mostly reflected a tendency to over-hit, even on fairly simple put-aways from mid-court and at the net. Naturally his awareness of Nadal’s speed, anticipation and great hands inspired him to go for more than he would have otherwise – and Nadal hit some truly brilliant passing shots today, especially from the backhand – but we shouldn’t forget that a resume like Federer’s owes a lot to his ability to execute repeatedly under pressure. Today he didn’t. He produced another seventeen errors in the second set, bringing his total to a rather grand thirty-two. Nadal hit precisely one quarter as many.

Like I said, I can’t imagine a more modest selection of errors would have altered the result, though it probably would have made for a more interesting match. There was momentary interest when Nadal stepped up to serve for the title at 5/1 in the second set, and was promptly broken to love amid a sudden barrage from Federer, who then held. But any fears or hopes that this might spark a radical reversal were ameliorated or dashed when Nadal served it out comfortably.

His victory speech was typically gracious, and judging by the appreciative reaction of the local crowd, demonstrated a firming command of Italian. I’m hardly fluent, but even I could tell it represented substantial progress on his speech following he and Federer’s last final at the Foro Italico, in 2006. That day they’d collaborated on an all-time classic, with Nadal clawing back match points to triumph deep in a fifth set tiebreaker. Both men were so exhausted that they promptly pulled out of the Hamburg Masters the following week, which was subsequently won by Tommy Robredo, enabling him eventually to qualify for the Masters Cup (to Goran Ivanisevic’s very public disgust). This was held to be a crime against the sport, and gave the ATP an uncounterable argument for cancelling best of five set finals. In the long years since there have been many persuasive arguments that something was thus irreversibly lost. Today’s Rome final was not such an argument. Aside from Nadal’s fans, who understandably could have gone on watching all day, did anyone really want to see more of that?

Nadal has won three of the five Masters events played this year (Indian Wells, Madrid and Rome). Of the remaining two he reached the final of Monte Carlo and didn’t play Miami. He has now returned to the number four ranking, but based on these (and other) results it’s hard to argue he isn’t the best player in the world at the moment. With due acknowledgement for how well he is playing, there’s also substance in the contention that he’s the only one among his peers who is. Federer is now healthy, but his form remains terribly patchy, as we saw today. Murray is injured, and seems to me to have relapsed into bad patterns. Djokovic, aside from a few masterful tournaments, seems uncannily like the old version of himself from before 2011. Indeed, much of the top ten is out of sorts. Tsonga is all over the place, Del Potro has pulled out of the French Open, and Berdych only ever looks imposing until he reaches the semifinals. Tipsarevic seems to have forgotten how to play at all.

Beyond that, there are signs that the top four’s unprecedented stranglehold on the big events, at least at Masters level, is starting to loosen. They’re still winning them, of course, having claimed 28 of the last 30 (with the remaining two being won by the world number five at the time). But they seem to be losing more often before the finals and semifinals, and players as various as Paire, Wawrinka, Janowicz, and Haas are now pushing deeper. I don’t think I’m alone in hoping this signals a broader movement towards more variety at the business end of big events. Whether it’s old or new blood, tennis right now cold use some fresh blood.

Inevitably, the question has been aired of precisely what this result means for Federer’s legacy, both this particular match, and the broader implications of his head-to-head with Nadal. Announcing Federer’s decline has become something of a cottage industry in recent years, and I imagine there are commemorative tea-towels available somewhere. I don’t pretend to know how he feels about any of it, and as a rule I have no time for the practice of summing up a person’s career while that person is still busy building it. It’s a tendency that has grown particularly common in recent times, unsurprisingly in an age when celebrities and sporting luminaries are encouraged to publish their memoirs before they turn twenty-five. For what it’s worth, my view is that Federer is probably the best player ever to have played, and in his prime he was the second-best clay courter of his era. The result was that he often reached clay court finals, and there discovered arguably the most accomplished and ferocious clay courter of all time. Had Federer been a worse clay courter, and reached fewer finals, like Sampras, his head-to-head with Nadal would have ironically looked much better. Mostly, however, it is a fatuous debate, and I find it about as diverting as discussions of Federer’s hairstyle. If the debate must be held at all, it will only make any kind of sense after they’ve both retired, and even then it’s doubtful.

Nonetheless, the debate continues because the pursuit of prestige is eternal, and easily understood. Indeed, it was something the Romans understood in their bones, since it underpinned their entire society. Lives were lived in order to ensure a heightened legacy. The very streets near where Federer and Nadal today fought often burned or stank with corpses as avowedly great men dissolved the city in blood and flames for nothing more than their own ambition. Plutarch has it that when Gaius Marius commenced his seventh consulship by turning Rome into a charnel house, he grew unhinged with fear at the thought of Lucius Sulla returning to exact vengeance, rapidly succumbing to nightmares and dementia:  ‘Dreadful, indeed, is the lions’ lair, even though it be empty.’ This line always reminds me of the Rome Masters, where a player might thrive for a time, but eventually must face Nadal.

In any case, it’s naive to hope one’s legacy will remain intact even after it is completed, in this age or any other. No man in the entire history of the Republic had achieved greater renown than Marius, but when Sulla eventually did make it back to Rome, he ordered Marius’ bones publicly exhumed, and unceremoniously tossed into the river. Nothing lasts forever, or even for very long. Little did Sulla guess that in time the crucial differences between he and his rival would be forgotten, until both were held merely to be representative of their age. Perhaps they were: whereas Sulla and Marius once fought side-by-side desperately to repel the invading Teutons, twenty-one centuries later Mussolini welcomed the Wehrmacht with open arms. I’m not sure what to make of that. Perhaps nothing. In time, Nadal and Federer will seem more alike than not, and the debate over who was better will merit no more than a footnote. In the meantime, you’ll note that the urge to legitimate one’s work with references to eternal Rome is an indulgence not confined to dictators, and extends to tennis writers.

Rome Masters, Semifinals

(5) Nadal d. (6) Berdych, 6/2 6/4

(2) Federer d. Paire, 7/6 6/4

Roger Federer today defeated Benoit Paire in crooked straight sets, simultaneously reaching his first final of the season, and ensuring he achieved the least ideal preparation for facing Rafael Nadal in it. The fascinating problems posed by Paire, an assertive and mercurial French right-hander with a bold first serve and an inclination to abbreviate points, are completely unlike those Federer will encounter tomorrow. It also doesn’t help that Federer has so far played all his matches at night, while the final is scheduled for mid-afternoon. To be fair, it probably doesn’t matter much either way.

Realistically, by which I mean unrealistically, the only useful preparation for facing Nadal on clay is to become Novak Djokovic. Tomas Berdych earlier discovered that merely beating Djokovic does not constitute adequate preparation. It might have helped had he eaten the Serb’s heart, rather than merely breaking it, thereby ingesting a portion of the world number one’s fabled strength. As it was, the Czech was decisively over-matched, and probably would have lost even had he better executed his strategy, which is a term I employ loosely. Not only did he lack answers, he repeatedly failed to ask the right questions.

Berdych wasn’t quite the same player who’d staged that astonishing comeback against Djokovic in the quarterfinals, but nor was Nadal quite the same guy who’d narrowly survived an inspired Ernests Gulbis. Nor was it the same Berdych who last year threw everything at Nadal in Rome, yet still lost. As I say, short of being Djokovic, what can one do? Nadal afterwards conceded under interrogation that today’s performance was indeed excellent, with the first set ranking among the best he’s ever played in Rome. You know it’s good when even he is willing to own up to it. It would have been perverse not to. Nadal landed 77% of first serves, but the more worrying statistic for his opponent was that he missed 23% of them, since this turned out to be a guaranteed prelude to Nadal winning the point: Berdych won just eight points on return, and none of them came on a second serve. Such figures more than bore out the visual evidence, which was that Nadal dominated even those few rallies in which Berdych actually remembered to press the Spaniard’s weaker backhand.

Federer has been broken only twice en route to the final, suggesting that tomorrow’s encounter won’t reprise the unparalleled 2006 Rome final, but might instead echo the notorious 1998 Wimbledon final between Pete Sampras and Goran Ivanisevic. The curious statistic appeared that the only other times Federer managed so smooth a passage in a clay court Masters event – Madrid in 2009 and 2012 – he subsequently won the event. You’d have to be a pretty determined fan in order to nourish your hopes on such numbers, though. More encouraging have been his first serve numbers, at least before the semifinals. Prior to today’s match, Federer was serving at over 75%, with no hint of the back injury that afflicted him several months ago. If he produces numbers like that tomorrow, he might make it close. Then again, Federer never does sustain numbers like that against Nadal, especially on clay. This is not a coincidence. Enhanced pressure means fewer of those first serves land in, while more of those that do come back. Whether Federer will be sufficiently battle-hardened when they do is a nice question.

His draw, in this respect, probably hasn’t helped. It would be wilful to pretend the Swiss hasn’t enjoyed a very generous path to the final, facing no seeds, and with only the lowly Potito Starace counting as a clay court specialist, insofar as the Italian is even less accomplished on every other surface. This is hardly a criticism, since you can only play who you’re presented with, and the men Federer was presented with had proven their mettle by repeatedly dismissing more fancied players. Indeed, this must be considered Paire’s breakout tournament, with the highlight being his fifty-seven minute thrashing of the hollering but hopeless Marcel Granollers in the quarterfinals. There was also a fine attacking effort against (an admittedly ailing) Juan Martin del Potro. Had he put together a better tiebreak in today’s first set he might have really given Federer a scare.

Jerzy Janowicz’s experienced his first taste of notoriety last October at Bercy, but this week’s result in Rome yields little to that earlier one, especially since upsets over top eight players at the Paris Indoors are unfortunately festooned with asterisks, huddled as it is in the lee of the tour finals. This week Janowicz was excellent against several accomplished players – Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and Richard Gasquet – who had every reason to give their best, and he won. He lost against Federer, but he lost well; there was certainly no shame in it.

Paire’s ranking has consequently soared ten places, to number twenty-six, meaning he’ll be pleasantly seeded for Roland Garros. Janowicz rose one place to number twenty-three. Federer will still be number three even if he wins tomorrow. Asked afterwards to assess his chances he was quick to signal his confidence, quite literally. If Nadal wins, he will vault past David Ferrer back into fourth spot. The happy result of this is that he’ll have a deserved top four seeding in Paris, even if Andy Murray does play, and that the rest of us won’t have to hear about it any more.

Indian Wells, Day Five

(Q) Gulbis d. (20) Seppi, 5/7 6/3 6/4

Ernests Gulbis has now won thirteen consecutive matches, an audacious streak that includes the Delray Beach title, as well as qualification for that event and the current one, which is the Indian Wells Masters. For wonderment, this sequence of results is exceeded only by the encouraging shortage of twee headlines indebted to a certain play by Oscar Wilde. There was a time when Gulbis couldn’t take a set without some hack deploying the phrase ‘The Importance of Beating Ernests’. Googling that phrase returns at all least two solid pages of material directly related to Gulbis, but precious little from recent months. It’s a small thing, admittedly, but with so many reasons to despair at the frequently execrable quality of tennis writing, one welcomes any invitation to hope.

Today Gulbis saw off Andreas Seppi in a little over two hours, recovering from a quite disastrous first set – the Latvian served for it twice before losing 5/7 – to take the next two. In between there was no shortage of excellent tennis from both, interspersed with the species of mayhem Gulbis has made characteristic. There was a typically accomplished racquet smash, and a selection of self-directed tirades conducted at varying tempos and intensities, an endlessly inventive series of variations on the theme of self-excoriation. One of these (at a pivotal moment in the second set) skirted the limits of good taste by mentioning his opponent by name, as though Beethoven has prefaced the Diabelli Variations by pointing out that Diabelli’s original waltz was shit. Still, he apparently made a good case. Seppi immediately handed over the crucial break.

It is the first time Gulbis has won at least three matches at consecutive tournaments since mid-2010, which I don’t include as a fine example of the statistician’s art, but as an indicator that his latest declarations of rediscovered commitment may have some merit. Afterwards he was forthright about his chances against Rafael Nadal, who’d earlier progressed via walkover: he fancies them very much. If Gulbis wins that one, let’s see how many can resist the dark allure of the punning headline.

(2) Federer d. Dodig, 6/3 6/1

Any belief that Roger Federer was pleased when Julien Benneteau was forcibly cleared from his path was quickly dispelled once today’s match began. The Swiss looked more distracted than relieved, and far less alert than he had against Denis Istomin in the previous round. His opponent today was Benneteau’s conqueror Ivan Dodig, who as ever looked like an unmade bed. Federer, who maintains a direct telepathic link to Anna Wintour, was no doubt deeply offended by Dodig’s rumpled ensemble, especially the yellow t-shirt which betrayed a fondness for leonine heraldry commensurate with Radek Stepanek’s. Whether this was responsible for the subterranean quality of the first set is a nice question – there were some jagged late-afternoon shadows that can’t have helped – but it’s undeniable that the defending champion began to play better in the second set after Dodig changed his top. I think there was still a lion, but it was now mercifully lost against darker fabric.

It was a match framed and scoured by double faults. Federer commenced with one, the first of three points he discarded casually to open the match (although these would prove to be the only break points he faced). Dodig later threw in a few to be broken at 3-4, and another to close the match about half an hour later. There were others, mostly tossed in with an insouciance made notorious by Fernando Verdasco.

During the pre-match hit-up a debate developed among the assembled Sky Sports luminaries as to which retired player they missed most. The issue was put to viewers. Andre Agassi proved a popular choice, as did Andy Roddick among those with shorter memories. The talk turned to which current players would be missed when the time came. Andrew Castle was in no doubt that Federer’s eventual departure would leave the most gaping hole, a contention he went on repeating freely when it turned out that no one else had the authority to stop him. He sounded like he was rehearsing Federer’s valedictory speech. Peter Fleming’s efforts to redirect the discussion elsewhere were slow to yield results.

Nonetheless, Castle’s profound affinity for the world No.2 bore fruit late in the second set, when he was among the first to note that Federer had tweaked his back. The Tennis Channel commentators were entirely clueless. Unfortunately, so was Federer’s opponent. Had Dodig spotted Federer’s discomfort, one hopes he would have made a better effort to probe and exploit it. Instead he continued playing as he had done before, which is to say poorly, while Federer began to lash his groundstrokes boldly in an effort to get off court. It worked. He’ll have a day to rest and recover, before he faces Stanislas Wawrinka in the fourth round.

(13) Simon d. Paire, 3/6 7/6 6/4

Both Richard Gasquet and Tomas Berdych posted cosy wins, over Jerzy Janowicz and Florian Mayer respectively. Gilles Simon later defeated Benoit Paire in a match that was comfortable for no one, including the players, who seemed hobbled, and the commentators and spectators, who were powerless to make it stop. Wizened media types who’d believed they’d seen everything felt their stomach roil as the match spiralled away in a flutter of breaks and feeble errors. Paire served for it at 6/5 in the second set, but was broken back after he ran around his backhand in order to approach the net as ineffectively as possible. He also held a match point in the ensuing tiebreak, but was again undone by poor decision-making, abetted by Simon’s exhilarating tactic of hitting the ball back in slowly forever. Paire ended with 79 unforced errors.

For spectators, it was the least enjoyable match since Simon’s previous one, when he recovered from 1/5 down in the final set against Paolo Lorenzi. Larry Ellison quickly announced a counselling hotline for the few attendees who’d survived watching both. Simon next faces Kevin Anderson. Anyone who survives that one gets a free t-shirt from Ivan Dodig.

Dubai Semifinal

(3) Berdych d. (2) Federer, 3/6 7/6 6/4

The tendency for broadcasters of the Dubai Duty Free Tennis Championships to liberally sprinkle their coverage with images and footage of local architecture is apparently irresistible. Admittedly, it is a hard urge to fault. It is important to showcase the local culture for a global audience, the local culture in this case being the irrepressible desire to sculpt land and sea into pointless configurations, and to erect monoliths of dubious practicality but undeniable cost. These are structures of a scale and variety almost unique in the world, although they have a spiritual precedent in the Baroque confectioneries of Bavaria, a contemporary equivalent in Las Vegas, and embody an impulse that is now spreading even into Mecca. Really, we’re being invited to gawk.

The rococo tendency to elevate decoration to the status of architecture is anything but new. It would be wrong to say that the Arabians merely got there late, since the truth is they got there early. The deeper truth is that for those with wealth the inclination towards ostentatious bricolage is universal and never truly goes away, and Dubai has more wealth than almost anywhere. With enough money, you may not be able to buy the world, but you can dredge up its semblance from the Persian Gulf, and put resorts on it. Some may prefer to hide their wealth under a bushel, but they don’t reside in this part of the world, unless The Bushel is a 356 star hotel perfectly recreating Peter Bruegel’s Tower of Babel, with three replica Titanics balanced on top.

The Burj Al Arab, the world’s only 357 star hotel, is iconic in this sense, not to say totemic. At a stroke, it wrenched away from the Sydney Opera House the dubious privilege of being the world’s least discreet architectural homage to a ship’s sail. It isn’t the highest hotel in the world – indeed there are several taller in Dubai – but alone on its own island it does prove that monumentality has everything to do with proportion and context rather than simple dimensions. It is a constant reference point for the Sky Sports coverage, one they often return to in between helicopter fly-bys of the city proper and the odd tennis match.

Tonight’s odd tennis match was between Tomas Berdych and Roger Federer, the part-time local who once famously hit up on the Burj Al Arab’s helipad, although he may yet be remembered for more than that. The Dubai court, located nearer sea level, is one of the fastest hardcourts on the tour, and both these players are disinclined to hang back when the opportunity to step in presents itself. It was relentless assault from the outside, and although there were many moments of fine defence, these were moments born of necessity rather than temperament.

It is strange how a densely-woven and intricately-textured set of tennis can suddenly unravel. Through the first seven games, neither Berdych nor Federer enjoyed a comfortable service hold, and both were obliged to save break points. The standard, however, was excellent, and a tight finish seemed inevitable, and fitting. Then, serving in the eighth game, with a 40-30 lead, Berdych’s attention wavered, momentarily distracted by a Sky Sports helicopter on another strafing run. Several double faults and some loose errors cost him the game, permitting the defending champion to serve for the set. Federer did so to love, sealing the game with a second serve ace. The statistic that he has never lost in six previous Dubai semifinal was duly paraded.

The intricate pattern continued through the opening stages of the second set, with both men holding on grimly to 2/2. Then Berdych wrenched momentum his way with a hold to love in 82 seconds, before breaking Federer to 15. Federer returned the treatment a few games later, breaking back to 15 as Berdych served for the set. He then held at love in 82 seconds. If the first set had been an unravelling tapestry, the second was shaping up as a weirdly contrapuntal palindrome, like one of Bach’s clever-dick numbers from The Musical Offering.

Then the pattern fragmented, and the oscillations of momentum grew more rapid. Federer narrowly failed to break at 5/5. Berdych nearly succeeded in breaking in the following game when a shanked shot from Federer on set point landed just long. The correct call would have given the Czech the set, but he bafflingly failed to challenge, instead remonstrating with the umpire about crowd noise. Federer went on to hold, and force the tiebreak.

From a dramatic perspective, it is well that he did. Momentum began to dart around coquettishly in the breaker, first with Federer, then with Berdych, then again with Federer, who moved to 6-4, and a pair of match points. The first of these came on his own serve. He didn’t take it – eventually slicing a backhand long – and it would transpire that this was his best chance. Berdych saved two more match points on his own serve, before taking the set with a monstrous forehand return winner at 9-8. Federer’s concentration lapsed crucially at 2/2 in the third set, and Berdych pounced. The Czech eventually closed out the set 6/4.

Berdych has now defeated Federer five times in this decade, and joins Novak Djokovic as the only men to have done it twice while saving match points. We should also bear in mind that Berdych lost the Marseilles final last week after holding match point. There seems to be a lot of it around this season. Tomorrow he’ll have a chance to make amends, of sorts. Unfortunately, it’s not much of a chance. He’ll face Djokovic, the 2011 champion (of everything), and reigning world number one. The Serb, notwithstanding a brief and non-fatal let down as he served out his earlier semifinal against Juan Martin del Potro, has been in magnificent form this week. He has also won his last ten matches against Berdych, nine of which occurred on hardcourts, and one on this very court, meaning that each is entirely pertinent. Consequently, Djokovic’s only chance of winning tomorrow is if Berdych doesn’t hit every ball as hard as he can onto the line. It is a good chance to have. That’s why he’s world number one.

Federer’s return to number one after last year’s Wimbledon was achieved on the back of a tremendous eight-title haul that had commenced after the US Open in 2011. It was always going to be difficult to reproduce that level, let alone to sustain it. The cruel beauty of the twelve month rankings system is that success only ever buys a player a year’s grace, before that success must be reprised. Of the five titles Federer has had to defend since the 2012 US Open – Basel, Bercy, the World Tour Finals, Rotterdam and Dubai – he has successfully defended none. (Indeed, he hasn’t won a title since the Cincinnati Masters.) After Bercy he relinquished the top ranking to Djokovic. If he fails to defend Indian Wells next week he could well cede the number two ranking to Andy Murray.

Rotterdam, Quarterfinals

Momentous events are unfolding, at least as the term ‘momentous’ is understood within the constricting parameters of men’s professional tennis in February. Of the three events being conducted this week, two managed to lose their defending champions within a couple of hours. Fortunately each man was located quickly; Roger Federer had wandered distractedly into a broom closet, curious to know what it was, while Nicolas Almagro had fallen into a yawning crevasse in the Brasil Open playing surface. Having been rescued, both men were immediately ushered onto their respective tennis court, whereupon both lost.

Meanwhile, at a secret US government facility in San Jose, there are reports that Milos Raonic remains on course to claim his third and final SAP Open title. These reports are unconfirmed, since, based on all available footage, this Gitmo-style facility is far too restricted to allow public access, and so far Amnesty International’s demands for entry have been rebuffed. I have requested my contact in the Bay Area to look into it. Expect her report within days. We demand the truth, whether or not we can handle it. At least President Obama is making good on his earlier promise to close the place down.

Benneteau d. (1) Federer, 6/3 7/5

Federer lost to Julien Benneteau. It isn’t the first time this has happened, even within the Western European theatre of operations, and even if we confine our terms of reference to fast indoor hardcourts. Benneteau also beat him at Bercy in 2008. He is now at serious risk of becoming the only man to defeat Federer twice without ever claiming a tour title. His place in later versions of Trivial Pursuit (Obscure Edition) would therefore be assured.

Which isn’t to say that Federer’s loss is a trivial matter, for either man. Benneteau played beautifully throughout the match. This proved a simple enough matter in the first set, given Federer, by Mark Petchey’s scathing assessment, had played the worst set of his career, or words to that effect. This is probably unfair, since he used to put together some pretty woeful sets before 2003, but the broad point can be conceded. He was unusually sluggish, both in his reactions and his footwork, while his serve lacked penetration and his forehand lacked endeavour. Perhaps he’d inhaled some ammonia in that broom closet.

The true wonder was that Benneteau continued to play well even into the second set, after his opponent had finally relocated his game, notwithstanding a weak effort to be broken back to love. The tightest moments came at the end, at 5/5, when the Frenchman fended off three break points with positive play, and by landing first serves. The Sky commentators essayed the confident prediction that if Federer stole the set – he later admitted he wouldn’t have deserved it – he’d go on to take the match. The more superstitiously inclined among Federer’s fan-base, who subscribe to the idea of ‘jinxing’, undoubtedly wished the commentators would just shut-up, especially when the defending champion’s subsequent service game was disastrous. After struggling to 30-30 he double-faulted. Benneteau took the match on first match point, again by playing assertively, and charging to the net behind some strong groundstrokes. Federer missed the backhand pass, challenged the clearly out-ball, and that was that. Benneteau afterwards revealed that he’d immediately apologised to Richard Krajicek for beating his star attraction. ‘That’s okay,’ Krajicek (apparently) replied. ‘It’s sport’.

Speaking of obscure trivia (and the pursuit thereof), this is the first time Federer has lost to a player outside the top twenty who isn’t an ex-No.1 since May 2010, when he fell to Albert Montañés in Estoril. He has now gone without winning a title since the Cincinnati Masters last August, in contrast to a year ago, when we was in the midst of his most lucrative title-spree in years. In this period he has failed to defend four events (Basel, Paris, London and now Rotterdam). Having ceded the No.1 ranking to Novak Djokovic in the last week of last season, he is now over 3,000 points adrift of the Serb at No.2 (and about 1,300 points clear of Andy Murray). Federer’s next event is Dubai, starting in ten days, and after that the Indian Wells Masters. He is the reigning champion at both. But that’s okay. It is just sport, and some fans would do well to remember it.

Benneteau will face Gilles Simon in the semifinals. Simon’s opponent Martin Klizan retired with cramps in the third set. It is hard to see that that these reflected any excess of physical toil, since it was an indoor hardcourt match played at night, although it is, as ever, easy to say that they were instead the corporeal manifestation of the soul-crushing ennui experienced by most of Simon’s opponents at one time or another. I confess I’m surprised Simon is playing in Rotterdam at all. I imagine the US military could have put his abilities to good use in San Jose.

Dimitrov d. Baghdatis, 6/7 7/6 6/3

The other semifinal will see Juan Martin del Potro take on Grigor Dimitrov, who earlier defeated Marcos Baghdatis in the finest match of the day, and arguably the best match so far this week. It was a bruising, exciting, high-quality, all-court encounter between two gifted shotmakers making shots, conducted in an excellent spirit. Dimitrov vaulted the net upon claiming the final point, and delivered a heartfelt embrace to his opponent.

This is the third time Dimitrov has defeated Baghdatis in four attempts (with the latter’s only win coming when Dimitrov retired early in their match at Wimbledon last year). One hesitates to call it a match-up issue. In all three losses the Cypriot came very close to winning. Today the moment came late in the second set. The first time they met, in Munich a couple of years ago, Baghdatis held two match points in the second set tiebreaker, and after blowing them gave up almost entirely. Earlier this year in the Brisbane semifinal their match was mainly notable for the putatively crucial moment in the final set tiebreak in which the older player had suffered a time violation, although this had less bearing on the outcome than many vehemently declared. They play tight, thrilling matches, and somehow the Bulgarian seems to win them.

Today’s match was decided by its least thrilling passage, a ten minute period in which Baghdatis was suddenly unable to hit the tennis ball onto those parts of the tennis court mandated by the rules. This unfortunately coincided with a patch of fine form from Dimitrov, and covered the second set tiebreaker (which Dimitrov won 7-0), and the start of the third set. Thereafter Baghdatis apparently eradicated whatever gremlins had tinkered with his range-finder, but the damage had largely been done. Dimitrov was pushed and stretched on serve throughout the third set – it was, as I say, sometimes thrilling – but held commendably firm, and his commitment to attack and probe never once faltered, even when Baghdatis saved a match point at 2/5, and forced the youngster to serve for it.

A semifinal at an ATP500 event is among the biggest results of Dimitrov’s career, and even if he loses he’ll move to a career-best ranking of No.33. There is therefore every chance he’ll be seeded at the upcoming Masters events in the US, which will grant him the (dubious) comfort of a first round bye. Those who take inordinate pleasure in admonishing Dimitrov for slow progress bear reminding that this time last year he was losing tight matches in shady US facilities, and his ranking was spiralling back out beyond the top hundred.

Australian Open, Semifinal

(3) Murray d. (2) Federer, 6/4 6/7 6/3 6/7 6/2

Thirteen hours have passed since a superb Andy Murray won the second men’s semifinal at the Australian Open, which it turns out is more than enough time for those so inclined to wax eulogistic on the declining career of the vanquished Roger Federer. Depending on one’s proclivities, these pieces cover the emotional range from gleeful to threnodic, and utilise a broad range of media: there are verse epics, literate blogs, illiterate journalism, interpretive dance, limericks, mime, sound sculptures, tapestries and at least two light operas. Sir Elton John has rearranged Candle in the Wind, yet again. Whatever their mood, and whatever their format, these works are united in their belief that the king, finally and incontrovertibly, is dead. By my count, this is the one hundred and sixteenth time this has occurred.

Charting and announcing Federer’s demise is something of a cottage industry within tennis journalism (which itself occupies a decidedly minor niche within the wider world of letters). Apparently there’s bonus renown for those who proclaim the exact moment. To those who follow tennis, it’s all bit dull. Those who don’t follow the sport are probably just confused, or, worse, misled.

In my experience, those whose interest in tennis remains shapeless vague are as surprised by Federer’s losses as they are by the news that he is no longer ranked No.1. In the minds of those who believe there are only four tournaments played each year, Federer’s ongoing supremacy is an almost immutable law. (I hold nothing against such people; indeed many of those related to me by blood fall into this category.) The Australian Open tends to galvanise the local population into delusions of expertise, and I’ve had to weather any number of knowing predictions from those unaware that this tournament does not constitute a quarter of the sport’s totality. The predictions, predictably, were that Federer would wipe the floor with this dour Scottish upstart. (I quickly gave up on trying to explain that Murray is a really excellent tennis player, and a rather nice guy away from the court. It was a waste of breath.)

Those of us who watch a lot of tennis of course know better. We know that Murray has posed special problems for the Swiss almost since the beginning. In 2006, as a teenager, the Scot was the only person besides Rafael Nadal to defeat Federer in his greatest season. By 2009, Murray had driven the head-to-head to 6-2 in his favour. Coming into last night’s tussle, this had narrowed to 10-9 for Murray. Those who watch a lot of tennis had undoubtedly seen plenty of those matches, although I’d hazard that this provided little assistance in predicting who would win. Recent results hardly favoured one man over the other. Federer had won their last match in straight sets, at the tour finals. Murray had done the same in Shanghai. They’d split finals at Wimbledon during the English summer. Perhaps most tellingly, Murray had never beaten Federer at a Major. Yet the betting market favoured Murray.

Initially, the match looked like reprising the Shanghai semifinal from last October. Murray’s defence was impeccable, and Federer could find few free points. At one point in the first set Murray had returned 23 of 24 serves. When Murray claimed the first set 6/4, there was a sense that the whole thing wouldn’t take too long. The scribes, composers, weavers and sculptors prepared their various implements. When Federer snuck out the second set in a tiebreak, as Murray’s forehand momentarily collapsed, the frame of reference abruptly shifted. Suddenly we were heading for last year’s Wimbledon final, in which Federer had stolen the break late in the second set, then gambolled away with the title.

But then Murray broke to open the third set, and rode it to the end, his serve untouchable. Nothing like this had ever happened in their previous nineteen matches (particularly since most of them were best-of-three), and so I felt obliged to widen the frame of reference. There was a touch of the 2009 Australian Open final about it, in which Federer and Nadal had traded tight and desperate sets for hours. It seemed to fit especially well when Federer broke early in the fourth. Frustratingly, this convenient interpretation ran into issues when Murray broke straight back, then soon broke again, and stepped up to serve for the match. Pens, chisels and looms were poised. Then, somehow, Federer broke back, forcing another tiebreak. Although the path to get there was different, the appropriate comparison was to the 2008 Wimbledon final, in which Federer narrowly averted defeat to force a fifth set. Channel 7’s patented decibel meter informed us that fully 120 decibels were in attendance, although they provided no advice on what should be done with such information, nor a frame of reference to show us what it meant. (I presume that’s a lot of decibels? But was it enough, or too many?)

Federer and Murray had never played a five sets against each other, while Federer, who’d gone the distance with Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the quarterfinals, had never before contested consecutive five set matches. They were thus in new territory, although when Murray broke decisively at 2/2, the landscape once more felt familiar. It was again the 2009 Australian Open, in which Nadal had darted away with the fifth set as Federer unaccountably faded down the back straight. As Murray broke again to seal victory on his second match point, the score was even correct: 6/2. Indeed, even the final shot – a Federer forehand driven a foot over the baseline – was the same, although that was also the shot that concluded the 2011 French Open final. Wearily, I reflected that watching a lot of tennis matches can sometimes feel like a burden rather than a help. There’s a great deal to be said for going in fresh. To those who know little, it was just a tennis match. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more.

Murray’s celebration was muted, and the handshake was respectful. There had been moments of confrontation between the two men throughout the match, although as Murray later implied, only in tennis would such interactions even merit a mention. (Both players, at various moments, even used the word ‘fuck’. However, extensive research shows that many other men – and even women – use this word in other situations all the time.) On the other hand, the minor outbursts slotted nicely into the general discourse of Federer’s decline: he has grown ragged and ornery in his dotage. Suddenly the reference wasn’t to tennis at all, but to King Lear. It often is when kings die. But perhaps Macbeth is a better fit.

There is, as it happens, an alternative interpretation, although even to utter it is to invite disapproval, or at any rate befuddlement: it was actually just a tennis match, and it signified little, if not nothing. It was a great tennis match, although the perfunctory way the fifth set unfolded precludes its elevation to a classic. Last year Federer lost in the semifinals in four sets, before going on to have his best season in years. This year he lost in five sets.

Meanwhile Murray won in five sets, defeating Federer for the first time at Grand Slam level, and displaying commendable fortitude to ignore the upwelling of regret that must have accompanied his failure to close out the match in four. Those two tiebreaks notwithstanding, I thought Murray was magnificent, and deserved this stirring win. There was no shame in losing to him, and Federer afterwards didn’t seem particularly crushed, reiterating several times that he’d been beaten fair square, and remarking on how excited he was for the upcoming season. He certainly didn’t sound in decline, although the argument could be made that if he was, he’d be the last to know, or that even if he did know, he wouldn’t let on.

Indeed, such arguments have been made. Perhaps the end is nigh. It will have to come at some point, and even tales told by idiots must come true eventually, when they foretell the death of kings.

Australian Open, Quarterfinals

 (1) Djokovic d. (5) Berdych, 6/1 4/6 6/1 6/2

(2) Federer d. (7) Tsonga, 7/6 4/6 7/6 3/6 6/3

(3) Murray d. Chardy, 6/4 6/1 6/2

(4) Ferrer d. (10) Almagro, 4/6 4/6 7/5 7/6 6/2

Four men’s quarterfinals have been contested in the last two days. The upshot is that we now know who the four semifinalists will be. Fuzzy likelihood has sharpened into weary certainty. I doubt whether many are surprised that the semifinals will be contested by the top four seeds, who are at present the top four ranked players in the world.What might surprise you more is that this configuration is exceedingly rare in the Open Era. It hasn’t occurred at the Australian Open since 2012.

Rare or not, it certainly seems to happen a lot these days – relatively speaking I suppose it does – which can mean it feels inevitable. But given the extravagant lengths three of the men went to in order to progress, we shouldn’t assume that anyone’s presence in the last four was guaranteed, excepting perhaps Murray. It’s rather like watching someone navigate an exceptionally long tightrope. The longer they stay on, the more you may be lulled into believing it isn’t all that difficult, when in fact it only becomes harder. The top four seeds are through, but they certainly didn’t have to be.

Of the quarterfinals, two staggered in laden with baggage, and the other two didn’t. The two that did turned out to be perfunctory affairs, while the others were dramatic five-setters, although the shape of the drama was radically different for both.

The gossip before Andy Murray’s match was that his camp was furious that he hadn’t yet been granted a night session on Rod Laver Arena. Today’s match amply demonstrated why. It barely deserved a crowd. My prediction before the tournament began was that the Scot would face the most formidable quarterfinal opponent in Juan Martin del Potro; in fact I boldly asserted across several websites that the Argentine would win their match. Somehow I didn’t predict that he’d fall to Jeremy Chardy in the third round. I’m sorry about that. That’s my fault.

The quarterfinal is easily recapped: Chardy belted humongous and lavishly-prepared forehands, sliced a lot of backhands, and was completely outclassed. Murray wasn’t spectacular, but I don’t mean this as a criticism. A spectacle was hardly uncalled-for, and would have felt gratuitous, if not a waste of energy in the allegedly crippling Melbourne heat. He did what a true champion does, per Niki Lauda, which is to win going as slowly as he feasibly could. It was still fast enough to deliver a comfortable win. Now he’ll get that treasured night session.

Nicolas Almagro’s loss is an easy one to be ungenerous about, due both to the strained particularities of its unfolding, and because the capacity to deride extravagant choking has already been honed to a fine point by Sam Stosur. When it comes to poking fun, I’m in practice. The comprehensiveness with which Almagro failed repeatedly to close out victory could have only been rendered more excruciating had he actually held a match point. But he never did.

Almagro served for a spot in his first Major semifinal no fewer than three times in the first four sets. But he lost it in five, to his compatriot David Ferrer. Astute fans will recall last year’s Davis Cup final, and that Almagro lost the deciding fifth rubber, while Ferrer, whose heroics had so far kept Spain alive, watched on helplessly. I’d assumed that was the lowest moment of Almagro’s career, especially afterwards as he sat alone and for too long none of his teammates sought to console him. If Ferrer was that kind of guy, today would have constituted some kind of revenge. For the record, I don’t think he is that kind of guy, and I doubt whether it crossed either man’s mind at the end. But it crossed mine, if only as a reminder that two of the lowest moments of Almagro’s career have occurred in rapid succession, and that a tumble into the crevasse was prefigured by a glimpse of the heights.

In fact, I’m not quite sure what did cross Almagro’s mind. Afterwards he appeared too little chagrined by his fall, seemingly subscribing to the view that what’s past is past. Naturally there were plenty of positive aspects to his performance. He did, after all, lead the world No.4 by two sets and a break, and recovered well from the disappointment of losing the third set. But the careening flair that repeatedly brought him to the precipice of victory entirely stalled when he needed it most, and instead of leaping desperately he tried to edge his way forward. It behooves him to think on why this might be so. Anyway, Ferrer is through to another Australian Open semifinal, to face Novak Djokovic.

Based on the on-court interview conducted immediately after the second quarterfinal, and the presser staged slightly later still, the main item of interest in Novak Djokovic’s match was how he’d recovered from his titanic struggle with Stan Wawrinka two nights earlier. ‘Very well’ was the obvious answer, but the assembled press clearly wanted more, and wouldn’t be satisfied until they got it. It wasn’t enough to know that he’d partaken of ice baths. They had to know how many, and precisely who was present (turns out it was Lleyton Hewitt at least once).

There was, sadly, little to speak of about the match itself. Aside from some stiffer resistance from Tomas Berdych in the second set, there wasn’t much to differentiate this encounter from the one between the same men at the same stage of the same event two years ago. That previous match was so unmemorable that I can barely remember it, for all that I spent its duration seated cheek-by-jowl with the Berdych Army. For those who’ve forgotten, the Berdych Army was an allegedly lovable coterie of larrikins whose entire act consisted of painting the letters of the Czech player’s name on their torsos, and yodelling shoddily arranged pop medleys in ragged unison. I can remember the incessant chanting – on television they term it ‘atmosphere’ – but little of the actual match beyond the score, which as I think had a six in it.

What had seemed clear that night, and has since come to define what we may generously term their ‘rivalry’ is that Berdych’s defensive capabilities are limited, while Djokovic’s are not. Furthermore, although Berdych’s firepower is immense, his arsenal is relatively small. For example, his mighty forehand is considerably mightier when directed cross-court than up the line, and his ability to create angles is questionable. His second serve neither kicks nor bites, and slots neatly into the returner’s strike zone. Djokovic’s defensive skills are already unworldly anyway, but he reads Berdych’s game so well that he remains impregnable even when earthbound. In other words, the top seed’s B-game is generally good enough to deal with Berdych’s best, and last night the Serb brought his A-game, which meant that as well as defending desperately he was pummelling his opponent without mercy. As in Shanghai, when Berdych confessed he simply could find no way through Djokovic, it felt like a mismatch at a fundamental mechanical level.

Jo Wilfried Tsonga, on the other hand, is more creative than Berdych on attack, and, being a superior athlete, also defends with considerable virtuosity. I am inclined to agree with Jim Courier, who repeatedly stressed that Tsonga is the only player around his ranking who combines these attributes. This isn’t to say he lacks shortcomings. His middling results over the last year or so aren’t entirely contingent upon bad luck (he is 1-16 against top ten opponents since the start of last season), and nor was his loss tonight, for all that he was the superior player for large parts of the match.

For longer stretches than I would have believed possible Tsonga reprised his performance in the 2011 Wimbledon semifinal, when he recovered to inflict Roger Federer’s first ever defeat from two sets up at a Major. As he had that day, Tsonga’s considerable presence tonight caused his half of the court to shrink alarmingly. There were times when Federer could find no avenue of attack that wasn’t already blocked off, usually by artillery. Meanwhile Tsonga was lethal whenever he could get his feet set, off both forehand and backhand, while his returns – generally the weakest part of his game – landed not only miraculously in, but searchingly deep. Federer admittedly did not serve well, both by percentage and placement, and ended up with few aces, especially compared to his opponent.

Federer was compelled to fight, and to take what few chances he could get. Even then the chances were often yielded back. Several times in the first four sets his grip on service breaks proved rather too relaxed, especially in the face of a fearless and bold opponent. The second seed held four match points on Tsonga’s serve at 2/5 in the fifth, but failed to take any. The sighs of Federer’s legion fans could be heard across the globe, a vast pained exhalation that accelerated the melting of Greenland’s permafrost. Normally so secure in closing out victory, the prospect of Federer serving out the match seemed like the diciest enterprise since, well, Almagro the day before. It had just been that kind of night. From anywhere, at any point, Tsonga remained dangerous until the very end.

As it happened Federer did serve it out, and interviewed by Courier immediately afterwards was even more ebullient than usual, undoubtedly owing to a profound upwelling of relief. He’d known, as we all had, that this match hadn’t been over until the last overhead landed in and Jake Garner finally called it. He moves through to his tenth consecutive Australian Open semifinal, where he will play Murray for the fourth time at a Major, but for the first time before the final.

Australian Open, Day 10

The story has emerged, or coagulated, that Andy Murray and his support team are dissatisfied with the Australian Open’s decision to schedule his quarterfinal against Jeremy Chardy for this afternoon, while Roger Federer was once again granted the night match. The story was broken, not to say invented, by The Daily Mail, and predictably fails to transcend the subterranean standards for which that publication is renowned. (The comments at the end are particularly revealing, assuming one has the fortitude to wade into the minds of those who derive their news from a tabloid, apparently with the sole aim of being whipped into gleeful outrage. The common themes are that Australians hate the British, Federer is a complete bastard, and that no one has it harder than poor Murray. These themes are diligently adhered to throughout, with only very minor variations, and occasionally combine into fugal delirium.)

Of course, inciting umbrage in the readership is hardly beside the point. That’s the mission of tabloid journalism, and I don’t mean to suggest that local Australian versions are any nobler than their English counterparts. Indeed, The Herald Sun this morning produced this gem: Andy Murray’s camp fumes as Australian Open rolls out red carpet for Roger Federer, which does nothing but quote from the Daily Mail’s original report. Anyway, the whole thing is allegedly ‘a favouritism row’ as the ‘Australian Open chiefs come under fire’. Who is laying down the fire is never precisely established. No sources are named in the original: ‘Sources close to the Murray camp have confirmed…’ Names that are mentioned remain merely notional presences within vague clouds of fluff: ‘Murray’s coaching staff, Ivan Lendl and Dani Vallverdu, are both said to have made their opinions known to organisers about what seems an unfair situation…’

Indeed the only person directly quoted in the article is Craig Tiley, the tournament director for the Australian Open, who wastes his time and breath by trying to explain that there are numerous factors informing every scheduling decision. These factors are duly listed, but are trumped by the reporter’s closing assertion that it’s ‘hard to see what other reason [besides television] lies behind yet another Federer night match tomorrow, and another day fixture for Murray’. I suppose anything is hard to see if you’re unwilling to look. What else could it be?

Well, for starters there’s the fact that Murray is playing the unseeded Jeremy Chardy, while Federer is facing the seventh-seed Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, who is also hugely popular in Australia, having reached the final in 2008 and the semifinals in 2010. Which of those matches deserves to be the featured night match? If you’d paid $130 to attend Rod Laver Arena tonight, would you be satisfied, all else being equal, if you were obliged to watch Murray thrash Chardy, followed by a doubles match? Bear in mind that day ticket holders will, in addition to Murray and Chardy, also see a pair of women’s quarterfinals featuring Serena Williams and Victoria Azarenka.

But what about the fourth round? Federer faced Milos Raonic, and Murray played Gilles Simon. On paper this is far more comparable. But Simon had been hospitalised after he and Gael Monfils laboriously recreated Il Purgatorio in the third round, only longer, duller and with more cramping. Even at his best Simon is unlikely to trouble Murray over five sets, and the organisers are well-aware of this. Enervated and over-matched, the Frenchman was lucky to get seven games. In truth both matches were fizzers, but only one of them was predictably so when the schedule was made. In the third round Federer played Bernard Tomic, and the chance of that not being the featured night match were precisely zero, no matter who Murray faced (he played qualifier Ricardas Berankis). In the second round Federer played Nikolay Davydenko, and Murray played Joao Sousa. Davydenko is certainly not the force he once was, and his record against Federer is abysmal, but he’d shown strong form in Doha (beating David Ferrer), and was far more likely to challenge a top seed than Sousa. In the first round both Murray and Federer played during the day (the featured night match was naturally Lleyton Hewitt and Janko Tipsarevic).

Given the specific merits of each encounter, there was no point at which Murray deserved a night slot. Bear in mind that the schedule is made the day before each round. It isn’t planned out before the event, since even in this era the tournament cannot assume the top seeds will all progress. The only way Murray would have been given tonight’s match on Rod Laver Arena would have been through a kind of affirmative action, in order that he needed it to prepare for the later rounds. But again, the organisers don’t assume that Murray will reach the later rounds. To do so would be disrespectful to his opponents.

Another issue begs to be raised, it not addressed. What if Murray had played his second or third round at night instead of Federer? Would this have realistically helped in his preparation for a semifinal a week later, given that the matches in between would have been played during the day? The common belief – largely overstated– is that the playing conditions alter radically from day to night, as though evening sessions are conducted on an ice rink using pogo-sticks. (The difference is much less now on Plexicushion than it was on Rebound Ace, which being rubber reacts differently to the heat.) The players have my utmost respect for their mastery of the sport, but I don’t believe they’re so finely attuned that a match played a week earlier is of much use for calibration purposes.

As it happens, I don’t think it’ll matter much: Murray will be fine. I also don’t have much time for the counter-claim that Federer deserves any extra help because he had a tougher draw. For one thing, I’m not sure how playing at night constitutes an advantage. Federer was fitter than each of his opponents so far, has won most of his Majors during daylight, and thrives in quicker conditions. If anything playing during the day would help him more. But aside from that, I really doubt whether the daily schedule was based on a consideration of the respective difficulties of each man’s draw. To suggest it was is, again, to suggest that the organisers (now under fire) were scheduling each round based on the assumption that Federer and Murray would both reach the semifinals.

Scholarly types with an interest in tennis draws and a penchant for adultery will naturally be familiar with my key work Bracketology, the Reading of Draws, and Why Men Have to Sleep Around. They might consequently recall Stage Two of the standard model of draw analysis, which is called Indignation. The function of this stage is to determine that your preferred player has the most dreadful path to the finals imaginable. Your favourite can thereby be granted the cherished status of the underdog, and his or her journey can be recast as a slog to Mordor, notoriously a location one does not simply walk into.

Last year Murray was blessed with truly horrid draws at Wimbledon and the Olympics, leaving fans of other players in a desperate position. (Some Federer fans tried to paint Mikhail Youzhny as a tough quarterfinal opponent, but no one was buying it.) On the other hand, even that proved insufficient for sections of the British press. Readers may recall the proto-controversy at Wimbledon when Murray was obliged to beat Marin Cilic on Court One instead of Centre Court. Murray’s response was that he honestly doesn’t care what court he plays on. Unsurprisingly, his indifference failed to soothe those who felt differently on his behalf.

Sadly, Murray’s draw at this Australian Open has been exceptionally benign, and only grew easier with Juan Martin del Potro’s third round exit. However, indignation must be found somewhere, I suppose, otherwise The Daily Mail doesn’t sell papers. The man who last year said he didn’t care what court he played on has now been positioned at the ‘centre of a heated row’, notwithstanding that he has said nothing on the matter at all. But that’s okay, because sources close to him are furious. Apparently.

Also, thanks to Jewel for linking me that Daily Mail song!

Australian Open, Third Round

(2) Federer d. Tomic, 6/4 7/6 6/1

If the first week of a two week tennis tournament can be said to climax at all, then it climaxed tonight on Rod Laver Arena with the culmination of an eight-day story that featured no twists, few turns and little real interest. The potential third-round encounter between Bernard Tomic and Roger Federer had been noted the moment the Wayne McEwan unchained the men’s draw, and led it blinking from its breeding pond. Tomic was playing well, although how well depended largely on one’s esteem for Hopman Cup. Federer, on the other hand, hadn’t played at all, having been banned from Abu Dhabi’s annual Champion of the Universe extravaganza due to lapsed IMG credentials. Divergent form and convergent trajectories combined to lend the potential encounter the suasive allure of destiny. It was meant to be.

Mild spice was added when Federer remarked that Tomic would have to reach the third round in order to play him. Tomic then said precisely the same thing about Federer. Rather than report these statements for what they were – disposable statements of the bleeding obvious – they were treated as the most incendiary lead-in to a sporting spectacle since the Rumble in the Jungle. When Federer and Tomic won their respective second rounds, Channel 7 ascended to an ecstasy of anticipation. Here was an opportunity to whip the viewers to a nationalist froth. Here was a chance to lure Lleyton Hewitt back into the commentary bunker. Here was a chance to show that cherished footage of the boastfully pre-teen Tomic yet again. The telecast commenced half an hour early, in order that these wonders might unfold at an appropriately tedious rate.

Channel 7’s latest gimmick is an app called Fango, which aside from administering digital lobotomies on those who can least afford them, enables interested viewers to vote on issues raised by the commentary team, thereby fooling them into believing their opinions matter. The results of these polls are then displayed on screen, whereupon the commentators do their best to sound interested. Channel 7 put the question of who would win tonight’s encounter to its audience, since sport results are apparently predicated on popular vote, like reality television. Still, the host sounded nonplussed when 55 per cent of the viewers who bothered to respond believed that Federer would win. It grew even more confusing when it transpired that even more of them wanted Federer to win.

Judging by the respective cheers when the players entered the stadium, a majority of those within Rod Laver Arena felt the same way. Tomic received a what sounded like a thunderous cheer, but it was easily eclipsed in volume and duration by the uproar that ushered in his opponent. The young Australian remarked afterwards that he’d sought to block out who he was playing before the match, but that it had come crashing in when Craig Willis mentioned those seventeen Majors. The swelling din that met his opponent can’t have helped. You might recall the putatively deplorable scenes in the O2 Arena last November, when the crowd’s slight preference for Federer over Andy Murray sent the local press into paroxysms of indignation. For all that I bemoan Australian patriotism, it seems we have a long way to fall before we can match the Mother Country. The local commentators barely felt it worth remarking on, and the reactions were less dismayed than merely surprised.

The scoreline of a tennis match rarely provides a useful guide for how it unfolded, although tonight’s score at least points one in the right direction. Federer broke immediately, and dominated at the end. In the middle momentum staggered around, like that drunk lonely uncle at your sister’s wedding, the one who cries onto your wife’s shoulder so that he might better see down her dress. Tomic had held serve for 76 consecutive games coming into the match, stretching back to the Sydney quarterfinal, although it was worth bearing in mind that none of his opponents during that stretch were noted exponents of the returner’s art (it says a lot that Andreas Seppi was easily the best of them).

Of course this detail was lost in the furious build up, and the question was posed as to how Federer might hope to manage the Tomic serve. It was a reasonable question to ask, although it was unreasonable to ask it with a straight face. In any case, it was answered immediately when Tomic won the toss, elected to serve, and was broken. The question of how Tomic might manage Federer’s serve hadn’t been adequately addressed by anyone, including Tomic’s support team. Federer didn’t face a break point until the start of the third set. Through the first set he served wide almost without relent, executing simple one-two combinations, which Tomic proved unable meaningfully to counter. The world No.2 rode his early break to the end.

The second set might well have reprised this pattern perfectly, had Federer taken any one of the early break points. In all Federer gained six such opportunities in the set, but failed to convert any, which is poor even by his standards. Tomic was unfailingly positive when facing these, but only once was Federer entirely shut out by a big serve. On most he had a play, but on few did he seek to force it. Indeed, as the second set wore on Federer seemed to give up on trying to expose Tomic’s ponderous movement, and reverted to a fairly unremarkable up-and-down rallying-pattern, which in turn necessitated some often remarkable defence when Tomic gratefully seized the initiative. Tomic was bold throughout, and his forehand in particular, flat and hard, seemed to pose Federer no end of concern. You would think Federer would have played Tomic more like, say, Robin Soderling, and never allow the bigger man to set his feet, but that wasn’t the case. Tomic set his feet, teed off, and Federer ran.

By the time the tiebreak arrived, and Tomic shot to an early lead, it looked very much like they were headed for a pivotal third set. Federer later admitted as much, confessing that he’d resigned himself to losing the tiebreaker having missed so many chances throughout the set. The key moment seemed to come at 4-1 to Tomic, as Federer executed yet another uncounterable wide serve-winner combination, driving the swinging volley home. The young Australian, who already used up all his regular challenges, now wasted his bonus one on a ball that had landed half a foot in, and the players changed ends. The mood had changed. The brave or deluded souls whose extravagant wagers had propelled Tomic’s odds into $26 for the title probably felt it more acutely than the rest of us. It’s debatable whether the 45 per cent of Fango users who backed Tomic tonight quite realised what was going on. Perhaps they still don’t.

Tomic’s odds lengthened rapidly once he’d fallen behind a couple of sets. The third set was about as perfunctory as you’d imagine, as Federer finally found his stride and Tomic’s sure steps faltered. To his enormous credit, the Australian never once gave up, and of all the stories that survive the night, the most important one is that Tomic ultimately acquitted himself, as Hewitt would and did say constantly, ‘extremely well’. Tomic had of course overstated his case by claiming that his previous opponent, Daniel Brands, had played like a top level opponent. Federer tonight demonstrated what a top level opponent really plays like, even if he was strangely reluctant to seize the initiative. But what he did illustrate, time and again, was just how difficult it is to put away a top player. If the lower-ranked player relents for a moment, the top ten player will take his chance, or at least that’s how the truism runs. In reality this particular top player might take three of his sixteen chances, though these, in the end, will be enough, since on serve he’ll give away almost nothing.

Federer was obliged by Jim Courier to talk almost exclusively about his opponent in the post-match interview, but the second seed didn’t appear to mind. He mostly hit his marks, although he rather mangled the response when invited to compare this year’s edition of Tomic with last year’s. Federer was supposed to say that Tomic had improved out-of-sight, and was destined for a glorious career. He didn’t. Channel 7 wasn’t going to let that slide. As they crossed to the interminable Monfils- Simon match on Hisense, the host Hamish McLachlan remarked that Federer is ‘one of the only men in the world who can live vicariously through himself’. Perhaps it made sense to the Fango users, but I must confess it left my brain reeling. I still don’t know what it means. I half suspect it was supposed to be a compliment.

Edit: Corrected the number of break points Federer failed to take in set two. Thanks, Andrew, for that, and for the origin of the line ‘one of the only men in the world who can live vicariously through himself’. That’ll teach me to second guess Hamish McLachlan, who once convinced Federer to sign his shirt during an interview.

Australian Open, Second Round

(1) Djokovic d. Harrison, 6/1 6/2 6/3

Novak Djokovic tonight defeated Ryan Harrison in a featured night match that was almost precisely as uncompetitive as everyone besides Ryan Harrison expected it to be. The first time I wrote Harrison in the previous sentence I wrote ‘Harrion’ by mistake. Microsoft Word, as per its mandate, duly highlighted my mistake with a corrugated red underline. Right-clicking on the offending word revealed a range of ways I could make things right, including a couple of educated guesses at the word I’d intended but failed to write the first time. The first of these was ‘Harrison’, which had the advantage of being correct. The second was ‘Carrion’, which had the advantage of being poetic, if not true. I admit I hesitated.

For all that Harrison’s mind often appears too pure for doubt, I question whether he truly believed he would beat Djokovic tonight. I suspect – or at any rate hope – that those headlines proclaiming otherwise had been crudely extracted from their context, as with Bernard Tomic’s comments regarding Roger Federer’s doubtful presence in the third round. Of all the barrows the media likes to push, disunity remains the most cherished, and the temptation to play upon Harrison’s native brashness is generally irresistible. It’s an angle that works whether he wins or loses. A loss can be written up as hubristic comeuppance; impudence punished always plays well. A win . . . well, he really wasn’t going to win.

Other narratives have by now congealed, the most prominent being that Djokovic was especially intent on putting the upstart in his place. The top seed certainly played as though he had a point to prove. But the real point is that he’s the world No.1 and two-time defending champion, credentials that he seems eager to demonstrate in nearly all of his matches. I’m not convinced he would have played any worse had Harrison sounded more diffident before the match. As good as Djokovic is – and tonight he was exceptional – he isn’t so good that can decide when and where he’ll play out of his mind. Tonight he played out of this world.

Nevertheless, the idea that he was deliberately putting Harrison in his place boasts an undeniable allure. It was an idea with which even Darren Cahill flirted, although in his case the opinion was buttressed as ever by crucial detail. Queried by John Fitzgerald, whom Channel 7 had once more exiled to the stands, Cahill didn’t just say that Djokovic was narrow-casting a message to a presumptuous young challenger. He added that it recalled a similar match at the 2007 Australian Open, when Federer delivered a pointed beating on Djokovic. The detail provided context, and a seductive sense of continuity was thereby established. But seductive or not, I’m unconvinced it’s entirely accurate.

Djokovic was quizzed about this specifically in his press conference afterwards, but emphatically refused to be drawn. Having commenced graciously by saying generous things about the young American, he wasn’t going to be deflected easily. What he wasn’t saying was that this match probably meant a great deal more to Harrison than it did to him. For Djokovic it was just another second round at a Major. If it endures in his memory at all, it will be because he played magnificently even by his standards (and even then he qualified this by adding that the quality was unusual due to the earliness of the round). But Harrison’s lurching journey towards greatness, vitally fascinating to American fans and journalists, probably doesn’t really resonate with Djokovic all that much.

The comparison to be drawn is with Federer’s dismissal of Tomic in the fourth round here last year. To the Australian press and the native fans, this match was of world-historical importance. To Federer it was just another round-of-sixteen at a Major, of which he’d won over thirty in a row. Naturally he’d been aware of the hype surrounding the encounter, and afterwards he was diligent in projecting a bright future for the local boy, but in the scheme of his tournament, let alone his career, it hardly factored. I suspect his projected third-round meeting with Tomic this year is not dissimilar. The chance to play Federer doesn’t come around every day for young players. On the other hand, nearly every time Federer steps on court he’s faced with someone desperate to prove his mettle, and this is really no different. But it wouldn’t do for him to say that. An overlooked aspect of the top four’s job is the requirement continually to massage the egos of the various news outlets, especially those outlets representing nations with a proud history in the sport.

It isn’t an easy job, since they invariably have to execute it best precisely when they have more important things to be doing. Djokovic should have been recovering from the match, resting, and turning his mind to his third round, but instead was obliged to linger in a windowless room and pretend he’s as interested in Ryan Harrison as the American journalists are. Djokovic was naturally quizzed about Harrison’s prospects, given that the youngster has for some time ‘talked openly about wanting to win Grand Slams and be No. 1.’ Djokovic’s answer was perfectly modulated, especially when we consider that Harrison hasn’t been saying these things in Serbia, but far away in the United States: ‘I don’t see anything wrong in having high ambitions and goals.  Why not?  I’m sure that a super majority of the players here in this Grand Slam or in the top 100, if not everybody, wants to be best in what they do.  Somebody admits it, somebody doesn’t.’

Realistically, for all the talk of ‘doing damage’ Harrison probably wanted to see just how much nearer he’d grown to the elite players. No doubt he’d hoped he was closer than he turned out to be, which wasn’t very close at all. His situation is therefore ironic, which isn’t necessarily to say it is funny, though it does explain why ungenerous souls are laughing at him. He was reasonably candid about the gap between reality and his expectations in his press conference, and made all the appropriate commitments to working hard and doing the right things. He certainly didn’t sound delusional, which is a depressingly common way for professional athletes to sound after suffering a consummate thrashing. (Sam Stosur often sounds that way after losing, although to her credit she was laudably blunt after yesterday’s extravagant capitulation, which had bordered on performance art.)

Harrison revealed that he’d prepared for the match exhaustively, including an hour and a half spent poring over footage of his last loss to Djokovic. He’d come armed with a plan. But he was both honest and correct when he conceded that the result hadn’t reflected a failure of tactical execution on his part. The problem was that the plan was predicated on the belief that he had any weapons with which to hurt the world No.1. Perhaps on a different night, against a more jaded Djokovic, he might have. But tonight, against this version, tactics were largely irrelevant. As the third set commenced with yet another masterful break to the Serbian, Jim Courier in commentary was transported to rhapsodic heights of allusion, even invoking the great philosopher Mike Tyson: everyone has a plan until he gets punched in the face.