ATP WTF: Why we *shouldn’t* [only] be talking about Roger Federer’s longevity

Quite.

A most satisfactory end to an event I was afraid wouldn’t live up to either hype or expectation. Or is that now treated as one in the same?

Rightly or wrongly, and for reasons best known (and unknown)  to myself, the WTF has become tightly associated in my mind with elemental performances par excellence.

Some of this is undoubtedly to do with the way Federer plays.

Some of it’s to do with the nature of the surface and the type of unforgiving yet strangely tranquil tennis it gives rise to.

Most likely, it’s an irregular fusion of both that’s responsible (usually) for that uniquely hypnotic experience only to be found indoors and at the end of the season - an experience that remains inextricably woven in with either Federer playing tennis that delivers a statement, or someone else playing once-in-a-lifetime tennis that delivers something more akin to a polemic. Yet also an experience it seemed we were to be denied this year until, that is, the final.




I’m not saying the final got it completely right either. And not only because both seemed stuck in that perverse first service purgatory that has successfully demeaned so many a player this year. But after floundering away the week in almost its entirety, it did seem to strike the right balance between daring play on the part of Jo, and Fed imposing the kind of lockouts that had seemed beyond him at some of his most critical moments throughout this year.

Perhaps what’s more interesting than any single match though is all the inevitable talk on Fed’s longevity it’s once again given rise to. All of it quite correct of course, but all of it, also, quite “boilerplate” in nature.

Fed’s turning 30 has undoubtedly imparted a particular resonance to it this time round – tennis twilight for most, when motivation is supposedly dithering even if the body hasn't somehow completely packed up.

Even so, I think we GET that Fed’s mode of play (and I would say genes) confer upon him a longevity that continues to elude other Big Four (or Five or Six) players – not all of whom, by the way, tax themselves the way Nadal does.

You make that longevity a little less amazing each time you recycle and repackage it: I certainly get why people talk about it. I DON’T get why they talk about it to the exclusion of all else.

Doing so seems to me to obscure something that, in my mind, is equally as important and telling.

Could it not simply be that he happens to be an impeccable indoor player? Just like, uh, I dunno, a certain Ivan Lendl, say? It is possible.

I understand why the prevailing theme is longevity – I also understand that 6 WTFs is kind of a big deal. Not all of which can be explained away with lazy allusions to “longevity” (allusions now fast becoming a form of disservice).



Neither can Nalbandian coming back from the brink of death and two sets to love down (2005).

Nor can Kolya’s pwnage of the entire field during the fall of 2009 – pwnage that included all of the top four. Pwnage that also included one Roger Federer.

And I think we might have heard quite enough on fatigue and the length of the season too: Nole played almost EXACTLY as much tennis when he won this event in Shanghai back in 2008 (81 matches) as he did in 2010 (79 matches) We heard next to NOTHING about wear-and-tear back then (an issue of commentary rather than player conduct).

It didn’t appear to affect Murray that year either who saw fit to leave it all out there in his win over Fed during the group stages. Clearly an important enough win for him to sacrifice any chance he might have had of progressing further in that event in what was (then) his strongest year.

Funnily enough it was Fed’s injured back in Paris back then that resulted in, what remains to this day, the only withdrawal of his career.

Point being, fatigue is not nearly as linear and untextured a phenomena as some (most) would have you believe it is. It affects different players (all of whom have different Achilles heels) in different ways, and at different times.

Not to mention the countless inexplicable, unfathomable, but wholly inevitable random seasonal currents, riffs and rhythms of life, all of which conspire together to ensure that no one day on tour is like any other.

And what of Jo? What of Berd? Are we to believe they found the long season taxing too? I mean Jo’s only played Fed, what, all of five times in the seventy-five matches he’s played this season prior to this event.


Neither looked tired, and I’ve heard nary a peep out of either of them on the length of the season. Why would we? It easily ranks as Jo’s best year on tour and the one time we’ve seen what he’s capable of uninjured for more than 2 months at a time.

Funnily enough, I’ve heard precisely ZERO on the speed of the surface from anyone either, except, that is, the usual formulaic rambling on the opening day [*whispers* maybe it’s because neither matters as much as we are told to think it does]

Without wishing to get too cynical (again, as much a problem of commentary as anything else), just when exactly does that critical moment come, I wonder, when it becomes ok to begin talking of fatigue (or strikes and unions, even) and to stop talking about the merits of “good scheduling”? Or, if you prefer it, to begin talk of “productive fitness regimes” and to end all talk on the “lengthy season”? Whenever you feel like it?

It seems ad-hoc at best and worryingly tendentious at worse.

Strange, is it not, how convincing and decisive tennis (like, say, the final) has a tendency to draw focus to what actually matters?

The same can be said of Fed’s staggering title haul of 6 WTFs gained over two successive tennis generations – many of which had nothing in the slightest to do with “longevity”. That’s kind of a “prevailing theme” too.
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(Pics: Getty)

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ATP WTF: BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE ‘COJONES’

Daveed has made the semis having won 4 out of 4 sets played against the number 3 and number 1 players in the world.

No one else in the entire DRAW can make that claim.

In other news, I love sport.

No idea what was going on with Nole.

I mean, yeah, he must be tired with the amount of tennis he’s played this year, but that doesn’t quite account for the criminal amount of balls that landed at the bottom of the net.

Assist (as with any Spanish victory this week): Yannick Noah.

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Rafael Nadal: “The Score is True”

I sometimes feel Rafa’s English is the perfect vehicle to understand and rationalise the types of beatdowns, “severe results” (as one journo put it), we saw last night.



Sure, there’ll be plenty of tracts trying so desperately to replicate the sense of ecstasy evoked by Foster-Wallace’s infamous essay on Fed as a religious experience; and whilst that might still feel relevant to some, I’ve always found it far more interesting (and moving) to consider the essence of that sublimity together with more deeper questions such as the nature of loss – and how that in turn might playfully shape the forces that underpin their rivalry.

There's plenty of innocent jokes on the adorable (or at least affable) nature of Rafa’s English, but it also seems custom built to cut through much of the bullshit that is so prevalent at times like these, and to set out the truth before you with not so much as a hint of drama or embellishment.

”The Score is True” is both an abstract and absolute truth. At once, so pithy, so very urgent, you can almost see it being used as the title of a polemical op-ed, a life-affirming poem about war, the satirically coloured memoirs of a sporting journo, or a historical biopic that wins the Palm d’Or. You might even get away with it in a frothy high school romance. Universal truths tend to translate well that way.

The same can be said of much of his unassuming and somewhat curt reflections in the rest of the presser which resist overanalysis and seem, almost, to embody truths greater than those contained in either the scoreline or the sport itself.

Even the "True” from within “thats’s the true” seems to evoke a bigger and more significant vision of reality than that suggested by any mere “truth” (lower case).

The truth (lower case) is, I didn't want to see either Rafa OR Fed routed in this way, but, really, when was this ever about what any one of us wanted? The peculiar charm of competition is that you simply don't know how any single match will play out on any given day however celebrated the competitors or their rivalry.

And results like these often add hidden layers of texture, meaning, structure and narrative to rivalries that more even matches are often completely devoid of, however well fought. THAT'S the TRUE.

Rafa says he "didn't play badly". He really didn't.



He might perhaps have served better and gained the resulting free points he alludes to in the presser. "I didn't as usual" - the barbed self-flagellation is wholly intentional (also one of the best moments in the presser) but is also put out there as a matter of record: Rafa's simply not serving nearly as well as he was last year.

But other than that? Fed's level was just as "special" as Rafa says it was - bordering almost on the type of sinister necromancy found in his dismissal of Roddick at the Aussie Open in 2007 - a match in which the very contours of the court appeared to warp and reshape themselves around both the essential certainty and trajectory of his winners.

In some ways, we shouldn't be surprised with the uncompromising clarity of Rafa's thoughts - pressers are mostly given within minutes of the last ball being struck; but try, in any case, to imagine the frighteningly solitary moments he endured in that arena (particularly in the second set) with his most respected and most potent adversary impressing the abstract truth of his supremacy upon him, blow-by-(non-abstract)blow - blows Rafa was mostly powerless to fend off.

If being savaged that way leads to certain crystallised convictions on where his game stands in relation to Federer's on this or any other surface, it shouldn't surprise us in the least.


 
There really is no substitute for watching the elite operating unfettered in their element and preferably on their favourite surfaces – nor a more convincing proof of its essential truth.

Once Rafa was broken in set one (it was surprisingly even to that point, though I doubt most will remember that)  Fed ran away with it in exactly the same way that Rafa did in RG 2008.

I'm sure many thought I was a buzzkill for making that comparison on twitter in the minutes that followed Fed's victory yesterday - the very same comparison was made by both in their respective pressers. There's an abstract and maybe even a moral equivalence underpinning BOTH those beatdowns – one you choose to ignore at your peril. THAT'S THE TRUE.

More to the point, when the elite do break free that way, the unilateral lockdown they impose is usually as certain and as fatal as time itself.  Federer's rhythms are, of course, all his own - he sometimes even breaks free of the limits imposed by those. And yes that does qualify as a quasi-religious experience. THAT'S THE TRUE.

Like he said in his presser, Fed's been on the receiving end of those lockdowns too. There's an equivalence there of empathy as well as supremacy. Perhaps as a result of this equivalence, both their answers can appear unduly curt – the type of thing Fed’s accused of arrogance for, but in reality no different to the shoulder-shrugging and wincing that formed the mainstay of Rafa’s presser.

 

Both proceed from a heightened sense of awareness that remains irradicably intolerant of bullshit. An awareness of their rivalry, their strengths AND limitations – limitations that, as Rafa put it, simply “weren’t there” for Fed yesterday.

THAT’S THE TRUE.

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ATP WTF: Tomas Berdych and the reformatory power of melancholic angst

Nope. Uh-uh. Not impressed. Not yet anyway.

I’ve no doubt we’ll eventually reproduce something of the electricity I normally associate with one of my favourite events of the year (we almost did with Big Berd yesterday), but we ain’t there yet. Not nearly.

And something’s been off since before the event began.

Not even the ATP photoshoot, normally the single most prolific moment for unintentional awesome all year, lived up to expectation.

Admittedly the Abbey Road crossing and the innards of Downing St set a high watermark.


But this year we got…..8 suits in front of Battersea Power Station. That awkward moment when everyone realises there’s not very much happening, and that not even a close-up would help alleviate the ennui.

The iconic Pink Floyd album cover is one of those things that sounds like a good idea in principle – in practice, a moody, un-peopled near-apocalyptic work of modern art doesn’t lend itself to the kind moments that have made previous shoots such a hit – and I’m not sure it garners quite the necessary universal appeal either.

Sorely disappointed. And I still think a Downton themed photoshoot with Mr Carson (that voice) umpiring a mixed dubs encounter between Lady Edith, Muzz and two other choice members of the cast/players would have been AMAZING.

Neither were things redeemed by what should have been an explosive opener between Jo and Fed. With Federer reminding us of the unearthly errors we’d almost, but never quite, forgotten after the sustained brilliance of his last two events. One can only hope he’s got it out of his system.

But at least, even at three sets, it was over quickly: Rafa/Fish, on the other hand, was a super extended directors cut of a very average daytime movie full of the deleted scenes and bonus features no one wants to see. And all of that was before Rafa’s infamous potty break brought on by an apparent tummy bug. One can only hope he’s got it out of his system.

With Fedal out of the way, I was sure that either Muzz or Djokovic would provide the bonfire that finally lit up the event.



It didn’t happen with Muzz/Ferrer – worse, Muzz was revealed to have an agitated hip that puts into question his continued participation here.

Sometimes an injury’s just an injury – neither evidence of questionable moral fibre nor an opportunity to big-up your fave with that excruciating form of player-juxtaposition so many seem to find so necessary. Try harder.

And with that, Daveed tops group A being the only player to have won his opener in straights. Every cloud, it seems, has an underrated, sporting and very Spanish lining.

Only with Nole/Berd last night did things finally come alive – though not always for the right reasons. The rallies and shotmaking were light years ahead of any match that had preceded it. Some of Berd’s misses were also akin to near death experiences.

It all had a uniquely, grungy form of fatalism about it from which Berd has seemingly emerged uniquely scarred:

"I just need to get through this feeling…I'm even more sad for the Czech people who came to see me"

I cherish Czech angst and melancholy the way I do some forms of modern poetry, but I’m also kinda hoping he puts all that behind him. Or at least re-organises it all into a focused intensity that takes no prisoners – I’ve seen it before.

Nole admitted that Tomas had been the better player for most of the match. He’s right. And, as we saw last night, he’s, in some ways, the player uniquely placed to cause all manner of upsets.

People tend to react to Fedal encounters in the way they might to James Bond films from the late 60s and 70s. For some, they were always overhyped and don’t appear to have dated terribly well. For others, they remain the benchmark of excellence with a continuing pull of nostalgia and loyalty if nothing else.

Either way, everyone feels compelled to take a position either for or against it. Try as I may, I can’t not admire that.

My own feeling is that whilst the more recent encounters haven’t exactly been memorable, and whilst Fedal may be over as an ‘era’ – we shouldn’t be surprised to find them embroiled in skirmishes that rival anything we saw in between 2006-2008. We may even be pleasantly surprised tonight.

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Roger Federer: ZING done right.

“A gentleman is one who never hurts anyone's feelings unintentionally.”
Oscar Wilde

ZING (for want of a better word – there’s got to be one) is as much a noble art as it is a precise science.

As noble as a bout of fisticuffs and as fine as any of the works of Keats, Mozart or Murakami. 

As ordered as the physics of Newton and as precise as that of Einstein, both of which were just yesterday used to prove that Neutrinos might in fact exceed the speed of light – which in turn might just lead to a revisal of EVERYTHING (mark: ‘handle with care’).

Done right, it can overturn kingdoms, alter the entire dynamic of battle in your favour and still leave you looking like a gentleman.

Try too hard, with too little, or at the wrong time, and you end up resembling that vengeful cretin that loses EVERYTHING including his own credibility in a dissonant fog of anguish.

A well-worked ZINGER embodies the very best of whatever mysterious force it is that makes the classics of both antiquity and modernity resonate to vein-popping extremes. Whatever else Steve Jobs might have achieved, you can safely assume he would have known how to ZING both caustically and responsibly. As did Thatcher, Abe Lincoln,  Churchill and Joan of Arc.

Indeed, we do it a great disservice when we dismiss any one of the few verbal skirmishes still remaining in an impossibly sanitised ATP as a ‘ZINGER’ or a ‘SMACKDOWN’. The uppercase is supposed to be for effect but seems more suggestive of a dialectic vacuum – like I said, given time, I’m sure we could do a lot better.

But whatever you might call it, competent and successful ZING relies on an entire panoply of precepts, best practices and guidelines – most of which are derived from that age old tradition of oratory and rhetoric. Not all are appropriate for every situation and even those selected must be carefully honed and configured before being deployed as a linguistic WMD.

Three in particular, Timing, Substance and Clout, are, however, indispensable – the critical bedrock of verbal volcanism.




The reason Federer has, for the most part, gotten away with his rhetorical rockets over the years is that he’s understood and taken to heart these fundamental principles . And where he’s fallen foul of them, he’s mostly been taken to task for it either by the mainstream or by members of that very active counter-revolution to the mainstream.

There’s other reasons too, of course. For instance, I’m not much convinced that the delivery of a well-formed ZING is fundamentally at odds with the “old-school” image Federer supposedly embodies – one of the biggest fallacies of the past decade.

A gentleman of the old-school is all about fair play and chivalry, of course. But they're never averse to the occasional verbal joust. Indeed, they’d be found wanting in character, spirit and essence if they fell short in this regard. 

If the FedEra has, paradoxically (mistakenly IMO), turned ZING into a dying art-form (and I’m inclined to think it has) then it’s only right that he be the one to reclaim the practice – my guess is not too many mind whenever he appears to do just that.

“TIMING”

However cheesy it might be as a cliche, timing is, indeed, ‘everything’ – in any, and all, forms of competition.


Seize the day? HELL YES.  Jump the gun? Not so much.

All too often a few milliseconds here and there decide the entire fate of a civilisation. You just wish that were an exaggeration. Like Federer said, it’s crazy how small the margins sometimes are.

What immediately leaps out at you about Federer’s verbal campaign this year is how quiet it was all kept until so very late in the year. There were even times, when Murray was in a slump, where he rallied to his support – all the while keeping his opinions re Djokovic’s year, the length of the season and surface homogenisation to himself – keeping his cards, in other words, tightly pressed against his chest.

Then, only a few weeks ago, just at that critical moment when he would have sensed people were beginning to tire of talk of strikes and unions from well-paid athletes:

“It’s better to have too many than too few tournaments,” Federer said. “The season cannot be too long when Andy [Murray] requested a wildcard. I think he knows not quite what he wants”

Try and imagine what would have been lost had he opened fire even a few weeks earlier, muddying the waters whilst Nole, Rafa, Muzz and ARod were still busy agreeing upon whatever exactly it is that they’re  all meant to agree upon.

The same holds true for leaving it too late: whatever you make of it, Muzz left himself open by requesting a WC  for Basel in the same week he chose to bitch about the lengthy season – not even a journeyman ZINGer lets an opportunity like that pass them by. 

“I’m not taking anything away from what he did but was Asia the strongest this year?” he asks. “I'm not sure. Novak wasn’t there, I wasn’t there  and (in Shanghai) Rafa lost early.”

Again, a try-hard ZINGer might simply have settled for those harmless few scorch marks that result from levelling this attack immediately after Murrays (admittedly impeccable) Asian Swing, a string of results the British Press immediately went to town with.

Waiting till that same Press attempted to conflate that Asian swing with Murray’s chances here in London in the few days leading up to it, is the mark of a craftsman who knows exactly what iron to use and just how hot it is.

“SUBSTANCE”

It’s a demonstrable fact that 90% of ZING that goes on is of the disposable, frothy, playground variety, most of which is as tuneless as it is hollow and barely meets with the definition of ZING.

More astute ZINGers might be able to get away with their lack of substance with more subtle sophistry (particularly if they TIME it well – see above) but for the most part, your target and any assembled onlookers will see right through it. And you’ll have missed your one chance for a shot at something better.

With precious few exceptions, even the best-timed ZING needs something to work with to pack a real punch.  Its not wholly unselfish either: you open yourself up to all sorts of ridicule if your ZING doesn’t bear scrutiny.

Again, you might question the wisdom behind some of Federer’s deliveries, maybe even the timing – but only in his most braindead moments will he issue the call to a frothy war.

He was right when he cut Murray down as a “grinder” after losing to him in Dubai back in 2008. That many cried ‘sour grapes’  is neither here nor there – had Murray not attended to those shortcomings (many of which still exist) he wouldn’t be the player he is today.

He was right when he called the early Rafa “one-dimensional”, tendencies Nadal still sometimes reverts back to under pressure, tendencies that usually end up costing  him very dearly – sometimes against vastly inferior players.




And he’s right in calling into question the significance of Murray’s Asian Swing now. Again, complaining that his Basel win is open to the same criticism is to spectacularly miss the point. I doubt he cares very much. If anything, I suspect he’s a tad disappointed that the set of double standards propping up this particular ZING don’t go far enough.

Takeout: You can get away with saying most anything you want so long as you resist the urge to talk cobblers.

”CLOUT”

Like it or not, the elite will always get more for their buck, their words will carry rather more weight and leave a far more enduring impression than any number of  journeymen. It shouldn’t be that way, but there it is.

The tittle-tattle surrounding Tsonga’s swipe at Nole (there were actually two, neither all that concealed) may have proved diverting but the world is a noticeably different place when the Fed/Muzz “on-again, off-again” tongue-lashing is “on-again”. And the better for it.

 

Now if deadpan Murray would respond in kind…

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London WTF: The Seven Layers of Grunge.

 

 

 

 

A welcome dampener to the wild, euphoric and, frankly, irresponsible British outpourings that followed his Sunday afternoon carving-up of Robin Soderling .

 

No – I’m happy this happened. Maybe now the press will realise that couldn’t actually be sustained. Believe it or not it is possible to get get through this thing without painting the sky seven different shades of argyle.

 

In fact the worst thing you could do in the aftermath of that ‘sub-prime’ performance would be to analyse what went wrong. Don’t even try.

 

Make like sunshine.

 

Announce a royal wedding.

 

Declare your support for the nuclear disarmament of developing countries.

 

Pretend. Nothings. Happened.

 

Coz in the grand scheme of things it might not matter. And in the grander scheme of things it might turn out to be exactly the kind of stimulus package he needs. The stick rather than the carrot.

 

It was nigh-impossible not to be sardonically-totalled by the careless, catatonic, dithering way Muzz began what was undoubtedly his most important match of the RR stage.

 

 

 

His shirt was the wrong colour. His shot selection was iffy. His first serve looked like it was in need of a banking bailout.

 

Like he said, against Fed that’s simply not going to get it done – against a Fed as focused and unforgiving as he was yesterday, it’s ATP hara-kiri – a wonder, really, that he avoided the bagel.

 

Far from being anything tactical, he simply wasn’t present.

 

Which is why I think a tactical analysis is essentially redundant and perhaps even counterproductive – why risk ushering in a double dip recession by focusing on any remaining layers of grunge that might still lurk in the subconscious of his tennis memory banks?

 

 

 

It’s not all bad. He was hardly going to better the euphoria of his first match – the best opener played by anyone this week.

 

Better to detox early on during the RR stages rather than in the midst of a chaotic semi with Novak or Rafa.

 

Fed will, now, only miss out on qualifying if he loses in straights to Sod (stop sniggering) and if Muzz defeats Daveed in straights in which case we have a three way “games-won” face-off.

 

 

 

But I don’t expect they’re thinking about any of that.

 

 

 

Speakin’ of detox….here’s someone that managed to exfoliate all seven layers of grunge remaining from his very tepid opener against Muzz.

 

Which is all the more surprising as Daveed had troubled him throughout the season both at the Slams and, it seemed, everywhere else.

 

Sod will have to beat Fed in straights (STOP SNIGGERING I SAID) and will need Muzz to lose to Ferru to stand a decent chance of qualification.

 

Which leaves me in something of a quandary. You don’t root against Muzz at home – you just don’t do it.

 

So which is it to be?

 

The Mighty Viking or the Celtic Tiger Kitten?

 

The home favourite or my favourite?

 

Faust himself would struggle with this one.

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London WTF: Tron - Fuschia Edition

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lest we doubt the essential rectitude of a winner?

 

It seems 5 weeks out of the game really do show at this level.

 

For the best part of the first set Rafa could find nothing. And I mean squat. Nothing other than a forehand that was fully flatulent and a serve that was about as souped-up as the slosh you get served in an M25 service station.

 

Ever since before the event began Ferru, Berd and ARod have been cast as everyone’s favourite whipping boys.

 

Difficult to argue in Ferrus case that there’s not a very real danger of him being comprehensively outclassed – particularly with the group he’s been drawn in.

 

 

 

And after yesterdays pitiful performance one wonders what, if anything, will extricate Berd from the pooey pigswill he’s wallowing in right now.

 

But to write off anyone at this event is to effectively ignore the eccentricities of the three set Round Robin format.

 

The beauty of this format is that Ferru can still, in principle, qualify by defeating Sod tonight (he’s already beaten him twice on hard this year) and somehow wangling a three set win over Muzz (not impossible).

 

But ARod as the butt of your worst ATP jokes? Really?

 

 

Drawing Rafa in his opening match was always going to have been his best chance of beating him – and it’s no fluke he came so close.

 

He obviously came out primed to shorten the points and smother the net at every available opportunity – that Rafa won around 80% of rallies longer than 8 shots confirms the moral rectitude of this approach.

 

But it was his near-flawless execution of that strategy that underlines how daft I think those anti-predictions really are.

 

He clearly benefited from that deliriously poor start from Rafa, but if it hadn’t been for an especially acute-angled pass from Rafa during that second set tie break, one I’m not fully convinced he meant to strike so sweetly, Roddick might just have been looking at a straight sets win.

 

As it stands, he’ll now have to get through Novak (somewhat likely) and Berd (wholly likely) to stand a chance of qualifying – uncertain yes, unlikely no.

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London WTF: ‘Argyle’ Andy

 

 

 

 

Murray d. Soderling 62 64

 

Yep….it was that darn good.

 

Sod never got going, but in truth Muzz ran down everything he did manage to send his way and got him into all sorts of four dimensional knots every time he came to the net.

 

Sometimes you can neither run nor hide. Thankfully Sod has a couple matches to go, but will have to raise his game having come out so scarred and ‘set-less’ from this encounter.

 

 

 

 

There was some talk about why Muzz should change his “passive” style of play when it’s good enough to beat the #4 player in the world so emphatically.

 

Truth is, the #4 player (get used to hearing me say that) could neither buy a first serve  nor any semblance of momentum – most of those other six won’t have those problems and have more options to draw on if and when they do.

 

A spectacular way to come through what was, after all, his opening match – it’d be equally spectacular folly, though, to expect to continue to win playing with the same slicey-dicey economy. A little mix and match never hurt anyone – and there's plenty of wandering monsters lurking in both groups looking to do just that.

 

Have to admit I had my doubts about the argyle vintage wear – but it looks FAR better on court than the pinstriped thing you see in the online brochures.

 

 

 

 

It also has other vintage approval.

 

 

 

Federer d. Ferrer 61 64

 

A straight sets dismissal that went on for at least half a set too long.

 

It’s no surprise, surely, that this would be Ferru’s eleventh consecutive loss to Fed. Far more alarming that he couldn’t buy a first serve and took a full set to enter the match.

 

 

You can cope with seeing Ferru getting comprehensively outplayed – it is, however, jarring to see him so jittery and lacking in confidence. Not the ‘Federer complex’ surely – you have been there ten times, one of which was in the final of this very event.

 

And a far better match it was too.

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London WTF: Daveed Cameron unveils a few last minute additions to the coalition.

 

 

 

 

It hasn’t been a good month for David Cameron.

 

 

First there were the student riots  that saw the near-sacking of Tory HQ (a couple of broken window panes) and a fire extinguisher being hurled off its roof that only narrowly missed police.

 

Since then, floods, banking bailouts not to mention the continuing fallout from the the deeply unpopular “austerity” measures – a word that almost sounds like a period themed wallpaper.

 

He was even taken to task for employing a personal photographer on the public payroll – what is a man to do?

 

1. Announce a royal wedding.

 

The scarcely concealed theory being that flooding the public sensibilities with talk of “Kate and Will” & “Will and Kate” will gently assuage the grim public mood so ostensibly damaged by those nasty public cuts.

 

Who has time to worry about your home being repossessed when you might be debating Kate’s bridal wear and the rights and wrongs of Wills presenting her with Diana’s ring? 

 

Or why she hasn’t ever held a proper job (it would seem, disturbingly, that some of us believe privilege has no part to play now that the royals sometimes marry outside of a carefully screened courtly set).

 

Complete the set piece by flooding the airwaves with a series of period romps showing the gentry in a lovingly eccentric and well-meaning light and the working class in a sufficiently reverential one. Sit back and let it simmer.

 

And if that doesn’t work…

 

2. Hobnob with tennis elite inside Downing St.

 

To be fair to him Cameron has actually played tennis before. Though there's no reason to suppose he was any better than Tony Blair who almost had a panic attack before going out for a charity knockabout with Pat Cash & Illi Nastase

 

 

Nice one Ferru. A gauche, awkward Viking has been made to feel even more socially inept and about *this* small.

 

All in all, Sod’s win in Paris has meant I haven’t very strong views about whom I’d like to see win. They all seem to make a compelling case.

 

 

Group A

 

Rafael Nadal.

 

Simply coz, other than this title, he really has won it all (in some cases several times over). Think Fed and RG 2009.

 

Novak Djokovic

 

Simply coz it’d be nice if the revival we saw at Flushing actually turned out to be one, rather than one of the many false starts we’ve seen since winning Indian Wells 2008 – the last title he won playing the way I like him to. Seems fitting for him to win at least something this year – and he has a chance to do that not just here, but to also clean up at Davis Cup and at Aus next year (hat tip @DavidLawTennis). That would be something.

 

 

 

Tomas Berdych

 

Simply coz he ‘s wallowing in doodoo at the moment and I don’t want him to go the way of Marin – for that way lies madness.

 

 

 

Andy Roddick

 

Simply coz this is the 8th time he’s qualified(!) yet has somehow never made it beyond the semis. And because he has a better chance here than at another Slam. And because Elena’s retirement has made me especially protective towards anyone associated with tennis circa 2004-2006. And because I’m still not up to talking about that yet.

 

 

Group B

Roger Federer.

 

Simply coz those blasted 5 unconverted MPs threaten to define what I still maintain was a better ‘one-Slam’ year than 2008. (Side note: how many “declining” players can cite having a ‘one-Slam year’ as an exception to the norm?)

 

 

 

Andy Murray

 

Simply coz having comprehensively scattered his seed on the Masters-1000 scene (read 6 Masters and 0 Slams), there’s a certain justifiable urgency surrounding the need to “step it up”. Winning here isn’t quite a Slam. It is, however, the next best thing – and it’s at home, and it wouldn’t do either him or his street cred any harm. Or, for that matter, David Cameron’s.

 

 

 

Robin Soderling

 

Simply coz “Simply coz” alright?….though I do so wish he hadn’t been drawn with Dave Ferrer.

 

Daveed Ferrer

 

Simply coz he tries so hard. Always.

 

P.S No one seems to have noticed that for the first time in six years Kolya is not part of the draw. Please tell me some one out there cares.

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WTF: Wrap Up, Vol. 3

This Wrap-Up has gone on for longer than I had expected – mental note to self on the benefits of thought distillation – but the funny thing is I was largely uninspired by post-USO tennis, and didn’t expect the WTF to lift my spirits.

They did.

For all the reasons I’ve already mentioned but also because they showed us that there’s life beyond Fedal, indeed beyond the top four.

So forgive a tendency to prattle. It probably won’t last very long.

Roger Federer

All the focus this week has been on Roger’s new found love of Japanese Paper Folding.

I prefer to look at the positives.

(Photo: Reuters)

Whilst I concede that Fed’s tendency to fold his openers with such care and attention might, let’s say, need…..looking at, what’s been overlooked this week is how tight and clinical he’s been once he has found his way.

Something apparently beyond the rest of the top four. No surprise then that he was the only member of that group to make the semis.

Against Murray he was imperious.

Against Dasco he displayed that dependable ability he has for coolly containing an an over-performing player.

And in the two he lost, he was only pipped to the finish line by the slimmest of margins, by the tournament’s eventual runner up and winner.

You simply cannot win them all. Not in today’s market.

This event, and to a lesser extent this year, has also resulted in the overturning of what, to all intents and purposes, has been conventional wisdom over the last four or five years: that Federer deals with flat hitters better than anyone else on the planet.

It was of some comfort to know that whatever ups and downs he might encounter with his game, his record against flatties would remain largely blemish free. Can we kindly ignore the loss incurred James Blake last year, and bear with me on this?

Nor should it surprise us that, with Rafa seemingly custom-built to expose Federer’s vulnerabilities, that he himself should appear so uniquely vulnerable to the flatty.

There’s more to this though – cross a certain boundary and another universal law comes into play: flat-hitters that manage to combine the highest levels of pace and accuracy render the skill of their opponent irrelevant.

This should not be that difficult to accept – if someone repeatedly bludgeons the baseline with a level of accuracy that is as unwavering as it is unnerving, it doesn’t matter who’s on the other side of the net, the flatty will win.

The trouble with such determinism is, those properties of pace and accuracy don’t usually coexist. Or put another way, they operate under Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle (HUP): the more you have of one, the less defined or fuzzier the state of the other becomes.

HUP occurs in another field of tennis too: the more potential or talent a player possesses, the less easier they will find it to realise it. You only need take a look at Marat, Svetlana or French Tennis in it’s entirety. But that’s another story.

There have however, been a few magical moments in the past, when pace and accuracy have been miraculously reconciled; and it usually results in fireworks.

One such occasion was the 2005 Aussie Open Semi Final contested between Marat Safin and Roger Federer. Federer was at the top of his game, yet Safin brought him to his knees. Literally, as it turned out on match point.

Looked at another way, though continuing with the Physics analogies, if Fed’s abilities to contain flatties are viewed within the context of a black hole, players like Kolya and Blake hover on the periphery of the event horizon, whilst Safin, and to a lesser extent del Potro, push Fed beyond the point of no return, circulating inwards at the speed of light towards a singularity where unimaginable levels of pace and accuracy converge towards an infinity.

Andy Murray

Not a great week for the homeboy.

Not one to completely write off either.

I liked it that towards the end of his stay here, he looked to be experimenting with more aggression, but it was too little too late.

And the less said about his match against Federer the better.

Oh and that second serve, like Federer’s predilection for Origami, might need….looking at.

Fernando Verdasco

Overperformed; and should in all fairness have won at least one match.

Invested himself fully in every encounter, and then punked out at the moments it mattered most.

The less dependable Yin to del Potro’s more impregnable Yang

And despite a career-defining start to the year, I still believe his days in the top ten are numbered.

Novak Djokovic

Not an entirely unsuccessful week.

In fact his opening encounter with Davydenko was probably the match of the week; but having barely recovered, he had the misfortune to run into his would-be Saviour in the form of Big Rob, who just happened to be firing on five out of four cylinders.

It’s not generally a pretty sight when that happens: Djoko coped by more or less throwing in the towel and ceding that last set.

No matter. He lifted his form and won his first and only Masters event, when the year looked to be about done and dusted; then he gave us 'Sir' Robin.

Can't ask for more than that.

Rafael Nadal

I don’t want to do a “me too” post about how I believe Rafa will bounce back strongly next year. Most reasonable minded people appear to recognise that.

Can we at least wait until the clay court season next year before we begin the obituaries?

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WTF: Wrap Up, Vol. 2

I left a lot unsaid in my last post, mainly because I didn’t want to miss out on perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity at giving Davy the attention and recognition he deserves.

But this has been the best TMC, sorry WTF, I remember seeing for years, notable not only for the new fangled facilities, but also for the high quality of play and only a single injury timeout administered to Nadal’s back.

Seven other players were responsible for that.

Juan Martin del Potro

In my WTF Preview I gave Juan Marteen little more than a broken wing and a prayer that looked like it might have been composed and delivered by the very devil himself.

I was wrong; and it’s not the first time this year either.

(GLYN KIRK/AFP/Getty Images)

Juan’s maturity and mental fortitude are off the charts in a way that might return to bite me time after time. At least until I make a more concerted effort to stop misjudging him so.

After his shadowy opener against Murray, remembered more for his nasal emissions than anything that happened on court, Juan-Marteen lifted his game in a way which has become something of a hallmark of his year.

During his semi final against Soderling, which was perhaps the tightest (as well as the punchiest) match of the week, I actually felt Robin was more reliant on his big-serving than those titanic groundies of his, which for the first two sets, had the feel of a minor skirmish at a Greenpeace Rally, rather than the front line of that proverbial riot.

Only in that final set (where amongst other things, Soderling somewhat bizarrely began to read Delpo’s serve better than anyone else this week), did Robin reacquire that depth and pace to his shots once again, and suddenly it felt like the bar-room brawl from hell so many of Sir Robin’s fans had paid good money to see.

Somewhat ironic then, that he went on to lose the match? Not in my book.

Juan did an excellent job of pacing himself and standing tall in the face of the biggest and most monolithic barrage of serving we had all week, and raised his game at just the right moment. As far as I’m concerned the better player won, even though you all know how heavily I was rooting for Sir Robin.

Pacing appears to be arguably one of Juan’s biggest weapons this season. He can go through an event looking fatigued, disinterested even, but then recognise the need to bring out his best at the moments when it matters most – quite the antithesis of Dasco.

And he saves his best right now, for the very best, in particular one Roger Federer.

If I have but one criticism of such a strategy, it’s that tennis is a constantly evolving sport, and though this approach has worked it’s wonders at the highest levels this year, next year represents a different prospect; one which might benefit from spreading oneself more evenly.

Arise, Sir Robin ‘Rants-a-lot’ Soderling

Despite the eleventh hour switching of my loyalties in favour of Davy, know that I still suffer agonies over Robin.

Delpo was the better player, but it wasn’t inconceivable for Sir Robin to make the finals; and I’m not sure which way my wavering support would have gone had he achieved that.

Before I go on though, I’d better credit Novak Djokovic for his knighting of ‘Sir’ Robin. He came up with the name after playing his last match in the group stages, when told how he was reliant on Big Rob defeating Kolya, to remain in the event.

Alas, it was never meant to be.

(Image Credit: Marria Khan)

Sir Robin fought valiantly under the banner of inelegance and in the cause of unfettered delinquency with all his might, but struck his last blow under a barrage of Argentinian fly-swatters.

So arise Sir Robin, and return to your Swedish Kingdom not in disgrace but as one anointed.

Safe in the knowledge that no one, but no one disturbs the peace quite like you do.

Or something.

Yes, I know there’s nothing idyllic, mythic or remotely Camelot-like about Big Rob dressed as a Centurion, but it’s the most thematically appropriate picture I could find.

I had some concerns about his form coming into this, mostly because of that state of stupor we left him in at Paris.

That he came through against Nadal as easily as he did, didn’t completely banish my fears. The fact that Nadal was out of sorts was more than just common knowledge, and Robin saw him off seemingly without having to change gears.

However after Djoko’s demolition, and with him being the first to make the semis, it was quite clear that Big Rob had arrived.

I could list a bunch of reasons why I celebrate what he’s achieved this year, or why I appreciate his presence at the top of the game so very much.

It mostly all boils down to the fact that no one in the top ten plays quite like him, and the introduction of a force as potent as his can push the game to heights it might not otherwise see.

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WTF: Wrap Up, Vol. 1

(GLYN KIRK/AFP/Getty Images)

Davydenko d. del Potro 6-3, 6-4

Not the best match after the week we’ve had, but a fantastic conclusion nonetheless, and the right one I believe.

Nikolay came out playing the tennis, that as far as I’m concerned, he should have done in the three sets he contested against Federer 24 hours earlier.

And big brother Eduardo agrees with me. So there.

del Potro, played well but looked as if fatigue had finally caught up, and lacked the intensity which I’m all but certain he now saves for his bashes with Federer.

There were even a couple of his off-the-cuff, flatter-than-flat “fly swatter” cross courters, usually played on the run stretched out wide, and which might well go down as one my fave newly-introduced strokes of 2009.

Interviewed before and after the final today, Eduardo, Kolya’s brother and coach, didn’t give the impression of being at all overwhelmed by his brother’s big win over Federer the day before, drawing attention instead to the poor opener Fed played.

After today’s win, he said Kolya did what he should have done, by overwhelming Juan with his speed around the court; not that he was much more entranced than before, characterising Nikolay’s play as about “normal”.

Lofty standards yes? But the right attitude to adopt if Nikolay is to take that vital next step and win that elusive Slam, which by the way, is now a realistic question to pose, though still not as easy as it sounds given Kolya has yet to experience the un-watered extremities of playing in a Slam final.

Davydenko d. Federer 6-2, 4-6, 7-5

I’m largely in agreement with Eduardo.

I stand by my assessment yesterday, that if Kolya didn’t serve big, the match would be over in straights. 12-0 is not a H2H to be taken lightly, especially when you take into account that although some of their matches have been close, Kolya’s only ever managed to take a single set from Fed in the last seven years.

And all appeared on course for a 13th win, when Federer opened up by winning the first seven points of the match on the trot.

What I didn’t take into account in my pre-match hype take on things, was the origami-like way in which Fed would fold. He’s lost the opener of every match he played this week, but the three or four games he played after coming out and holding serve here, might well rank amongst his worst.

What has largely been forgotten though, is that Davydenko played one of his poorest matches of the week too.

Sure Fed served a very tacky 40% of first serves in that opener – Davydenko served at 38%. And though Fed lifted his form in the next two sets, Davy continued, much in the same, somewhat listless vein.

His shots, normally the benchmark for ‘early-risers’ (my term of endearment for players that take the ball early), normally so reliable, looked largely tentative and ineffectual out there . And that way it remained, until the awesomeness that ensued in the second half of the final set.

All quite shocking really, when you consider how well he’d been serving all week, but against Big Rob in particular. His serve and net play have been much improved over the last year and a half, and Federer quite rightly drew attention in the pre-match interview to the fact that the last time they played was at Estoril last year – a match they didn’t even get to complete.

All the other losses were accrued at a time when Davy was as metronomic as ever, but maybe a little more thoughtless as regards point construction – not that dissimilar to Dementieva actually, with the amount of balls that landed aimlessly down the middle – and certainly far from the polished article we’ve seen this week.

Fed raised his game in the second and third, just like he has in all his matches this week, and had he not gone origami on us so conspicuously in that first set, maybe it would have been a straights dismissal after all.

I liked it that Davy pulled himself together in those final four or five games, where he, not so much raised his level drastically, as much as he played to the form Eduardo know he’s capable of, and I for one, love to see.

But, like Eduardo, I would have much preferred to have seen the Kolya that raced out of the blocks today, quickly extinguishing any rays of hope Delpo might have entertained.

We may see it yet – he’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last player to have fully blossomed during his last few years on tour.

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