by Pete Bodo
For some years now, we've gotten an earful about new markets and roadmaps taking tennis places where it's never gone before. It's hard to quantify the real progress of those dreams in a world where the deal rules, or to find eloquent, concrete expressions of those ambitions and hopes. It's hard sometimes even to understand just what the plans mean, what they really represent, or why they matter. It's hard to know why we should care, or how all of it might impact our lives, never mind the lives of others, many of them far away and as mysterious to us in their ways and wants as we are to them.
Today, though, we have a tangible symbol of this vision and the grand ambitions helping to create and shape it. We have before us Li Na, a Chinese national who will meet Kim Clijsters in the Australian Open final, hoping to become the first player of either sex from her vast, rapidly-developing nation to win a Grand Slam tournament—a feat, should she be successful, that may have repercussions far beyond those that might accrue in similar circumstances in any other nation. China, after all, is a giant; for most of the 20th century, she was called a "sleeping giant." Today, she's awake. And tennis is just part of it.
Therefore, Li is not just another player hoping to win just another Grand Slam. She is both an individual and an icon representing of a nation—one of 1.3 billion people, few of them engaged in, but a staggering number aware of, the enterprise in which Li is involved. She is playing for herself, and undoubtedly for her restless, snoring, tennis-playing husband and coach, Jiang Shan. But she is also the vessel containing the yearnings of her countrymen and women, a role she has no choice but to accept, and whether that helps or hinders her is one of the more tantalizing questions looming before us.
My gut feeling is that Li will bear the expectations admirably. The words that come to mind in contemplation of Li run to adjectives and nouns like...disciplined, patient, tough, cool, focused. Li is 28 years old; she knows the stakes as well as the pitfalls. And she's no stranger to the demands of this particular tournament; she crashed the semifinals last year as a lowly No. 16 seed, beating, in succession starting in the second round, Agnes Szavay, Daniela Hantuchova, Caroline Wozniacki, and Venus Williams, before she lost to that other Williams, Serena, in the semis in two tiebreaker sets.
This year, Serena is MIA and Li improved her seeding position by seven places. She's taken out two players seeded ahead of her, No. 8 Victoria Azarenka, and No. 1 (and world No. 1) Wozniacki. When you compare her results to those of Clijsters, her opponent in the final, it's pretty clear that Li has passed a more severe series of tests.
But what about Clijsters—isn't the three-time Grand Slam champion (and, now, eight-time major finalist), while a few months younger than Li, far better prepared for the task at hand? Clijsters has been No. 1 in the world, and even though she's won only three of the seven major finals she's played, she must have learned much of value in those matches, all of it useful against an opponent who's in her maiden final.
Melbourne presents—by far—Clijsters' best chance to slough off the criticism that she can't win a Grand Slam event other than the U.S. Open (a problem that most WTA pros would kill to have). In a curious way, then, Clijsters' excellent record in New York drives some discontent with her overall record and doubt about her prowess—it's a positive with a nasty, negative undertone.
The sum of all these mitigating circumstances is that if Li will be playing with the weight of China on her shoulders, Clijsters will be competing against her own record of Grand Slam shortcomings, a clear and much-loved favorite who's never really felt comfortable as the Queen Bee. Which condition exerts the most influence—and in what way—will probably determine the outcome.