'Dios Davis Cup

I had a cozy,indolent day watching Davis Cup yesterday, starting with the late stages of Tommy Haas's battle with Ivan Ljubicic, in the decisive fourth rubber of the Germany vs. Croatia tie. It was kind of funny: when Haas wrapped up his four-set, tie-clinching win, he beckoned come hither to his bench, who reluctantly came out to join him in a victory celebration that looked more like an office fire-drill than the kind of spontaneous outbreak you get at the end of certain, emotional ties. And these guys were Germans, a people who know a thing or two about rubbing their triumph in other peoples' faces. They warmed up to the job, though, and did the usual photo-op stuff shortly thereafter. But the moment seemed telling.

I was left with the impression that this was Tommy Haas's team - more accurately, that he was trying to make it his team. It's about time he stepped up. I know he's not the most popular guy in these parts, but I think he's "getting it" these days - I've been preaching that since just before the Australian Open. Germany used to be the poster-child for dysfunctional teams; yesterday, they roughed up the team that won the whole shooting match (with a nearly identical line-up) just a little over a year ago.

Haas and Nicolas Kiefer, a guy who always seems to have a beef with something or other, once represented the one-two Davis Cup punch of, oh, oil and water. So what do the Germans do for the next tie, with Kiefer presumably coming back from injury and eager to play?  Will he resent any move on Haas's part to make the team his own (stranger things have happened in the labyrinth of German tennis politics; look under "B" for Becker, or "S" for Stich). I know Patrick Kuhnen, the German captain, pretty well; I'll have to ask him about this at Indian Wells.

Then, I experienced multiple back-in-the-day sensations listening to Barry MacKay and Leif Shiras's commentary during the U.S. vs. Czech Republic tie on The Tennis Channel. Barry has been around the game as long as Wayne Arthurs (longer, d'accord), and Leif is an under-utilized resource in the commentary booth. I'm not entirely sure those guys even were present in Czecho-O. As some of you may know, commentators often call matches from bunkers in suburban Connecticut, London or Paris, using a bare-bones live feed. They don't claim to be there, but they try pretty hard to avoid you figuring out that they're somewhere else.

I may not want it as a steady diet, but a bare-bones broadcast like this one, stripped of so many of the bells-and-whistles to which we've become addicted (multi-angle instant replay, ultra-slo-mo, slick graphics, oddly Presidential tribunals erected on site for sports news anchors), encouraged one aspect of viewing that may be a forgotten art: thinking. Contemplating what you're watching during the long silences and between points, realizing you'd better pay better attention when you miss a huge point. . . MacKay is a hopeless tennis KAD (as well as a terrific [former] player and tournament promoter); it was great to hear a guy with an American do his best impersonation of a BBC commentator: "Oh my, we've seen some great lobbing this weekend!"

I'm a regular Versus (formerly OLN) viewer; it's a major purveyor of hunting and fishing shows that I watch with a certain amount of ambivalence (both sports are pretty intimate experiences that can be gruesome or even creepy to merely watch, which may explain why my buddy, Chris, jokingly calls these shows "hunting porn"). I got a kick out of it when the ad came on for the DR wood-splitter, and I could just hear a significant segment of the Tribe thinking, "WTF?"

If you're in that group, just be happy you were spared the commercial for Leupold rifle scopes. . .

Anyway, watching the Andy Roddick-Tomas Berdych clash, I convinced myself that Roddick ought to do pretty well on clay. If  you check the books, you'll see that he put up some pretty good results on clay, before he succumbed to the siren song of Wimbledon, and that massive U.S. Open win that further defined his stylistic niche. Think about it: Andy has two huge weapons (serve and forehand), and he's a good if not great "mover."  And he's very solid from, and comfortable at, the baseline.

Oh, I know some of you are guffawing at this, but just ponder this shining, counter-intuitive example. John Alexander, once Australia's Next Great Hope, was a big serving and volleying dude who put up his best wins on clay. The reason? He didn't move quite well enough to be a great grass or fast-carpet player. One of the great, largely unacknowledged dimensions of clay-court tennis is that the relatively slow court speed gives all the players more time for reaction and preparation, and how could that not help players who aren't quite in the same league as their rivals when it comes too getting around the court?

For some players, technical peculiarities (including grips) or relative lack of mobility may be a liability on faster surfaces, but clay affords them a little but precious bit of extra time. IMO, Jim Courier and Monica Seles were but two of the many players who benefited from the extra time clay gave them. Roddick is more like them than he is like either the cat-quick Roger Federer or the ultra-athletic Rafael Nadal. Yesterday, Andy played a lot of great points against a fine player (Berdych, who grew up on clay), staying in rallies long enough (thanks partly to the slow court speed) to set up and pull the trigger on his forehand. He also used his serve to take control of points. He even showed an impressive willingness to use the drop shot, although it's a stretch to call his dropper a thing of beauty. At times, though, it was effective. The drop shot may be the most underrated tool in the clay-court player's box; it works especially well against players who like to lurk well behind the baseline, playing defense.

I keep thinking back as I write this to the Massacre in Melbourne, and I'm thisclose to suggesting that, in the long term, Andy may have as good  - or better - a chance against The Mighty Fed on clay than on hard, while the opposite would be true of his potential match-up with Nadal. But is clay even on Andy's radar these days?  Okay, everyone, go to town on this one!

About midway through the Roddick-Berdych match, my wife, Lisa, made her only Davis Cup comment. Regarding Berdych's outfit (blue Nike collarless shirt, red shorts, white socks with some funky black ribbing), she said "How come the Czech guy's outfit doesn't match?"

I suppose you could say they were Czech colors (by contrast, Roddick was in all-American black-and-white), but she touched on something. If we're going to really emphasize the unique elements and tradition of Davis Cup, why the hail doesn't the ITF require proper gear - nominally, uniforms?  Can you think of another nation-based competition in which there is no official kit?

I say come up with a DC uniform (my preference would be predominantly white - surprise, surprise! - with a suitably discreet flag on the back below the collar or on the breast). No t-shirts a la Berdych (Roddick's white, zip-neck shirt looked pretty nice, though), or Insane Clown Posse shorts. Heck, let Nike - or anyone else - put the company logo on it. Everything about DC cries out for some kind of standardization; you don't have to get all fascistic about it, either.

Here's another thing the ITF ought to mandate immediatamente: Hawkeye line-calling technology at all ties, with challenges to be made by the captain. There's just one court, fellas, and five matches. There's no excuse not to have it, especially with the way passions tend to get inflamed by Davis Cup. But I'm jumping the gun on my theme of nationalism in Davis Cup, so let's put that thought on hold for now and think about this instead.

Anyone who embraces the idea that Davis Cup is a quaint, irrelevant artifact ought to just pause and ask him or herself why, if the event is such a dog, players like Andy Roddick, Marat Safin, James Blake, Tommy Haas, Rafael Nadal, Lleyton Hewitt, Fernando Gonnzalez and other top stars participate in it, and often end up getting their hearts broke by it or recalling it as one of the peak, defining moments of their careers. It isn't like Roger Federer, David Nalbandian and Nikolay Davydenko (the three biggest MIA names this week) are the only ones with crammed schedules, or that they have far more appealing or remunerative options for any week of the year. Hail, Davydenko wouldn't pull down bus fare on the exhibition circuit, but he still took a pass.

The players I mentioned above all have more offers to play than they can refuse. Yet they choose to play Davis Cup. I'm pretty sure that these guys couldn't be bothered if Davis Cup were just some retrograde drill for fuddy-duddies in white, cable-knit v-neck sweaters with maroon and navy trim.

Contemplate the rate of participation, a factor that admittedly means vastly different things to playerrs from different nations. Only 134 players from the U.S. have played Davis Cup; the degree of that honor speaks for itself, given how many players are officially pros. Also, if you look at the loyalty rate, there's only one conclusion you can draw: If the Davis Cup is struggling at all, in any nation, it's not because of a lack of player support but in spite of it. That's truly weird, given the conventional wisdom suggesting that the sum of great players in any event roughly equals the appeal and legitimacy of the event. In the U.S., the mainstream media has a de facto embargo on Davis Cup, even though you can see the pee running down a sports editor's leg the moment you mention golf's Ryder Cup. Go figure.

I've learrned over the last few days that Davis Cup means a lot to Roger Federer; it is on his short list of career goals. He just isn't playing it this year because it doesn't fit the very careful and iron-clad schedule he's penciled in for himself. His schedule is created to maximize his performance throughout the year and minimize his risk of injury or staleness. He also needs to feel like he's got adequate supporting cast. There's only one flaw in this approach - the fact that Davis Cup is a team event, and some very fine players have had to struggle mightily to bag that one or two Davis Cup triumphs. In other words, this isn't Wimbledon: some time in the near future, The Mighty Federer might have to sit on the bench, helpless, as Stan The Man Wawrinka has to beat a quality player to clinch the Cup. That's partly the beauty of Davis Cup.But let's not second guess his scheduling choices again (even in the Comments); the really interesting thing and original point here is that the players who skipped Davis Cup - not the ones who took part -  are the odd men out.

Here's something that may surprise you: I have it from pretty good sources that recently, 19 of the Top 20 players (including TMF) signed a petition requesting that the ITF move Davis Cup to the week immediately after the Australian and U.S. Opens. Who woulda thunk it? Apparently, the players would rather get it over with while their competitive juices are at full flow. Actually, only the Grand Slam finalists would have to play Davis Cup without at least a full week of rest and practice if the ties were bumped up a week. The ITF, however, would not endorse the plan; I presume they feel that fans, viewers, and media are too spent after a major to get all hepped up about Davis Cup, and they want to maximize their exposure. On this one, I say listen to the players. I'll dig around and see what more there is in this story.

Finally, let's pause for a moment to ponder this entire issue of "nationalism" in Davis Cup. Here and elsewhere, a certain type of fan always stands up to be counted as being against nation vs. nation competition, sometimes even taking pains to point out that he or she will be watching because of the individuals in the contest, not because they are representing their respective nations.

I think we need to wipe the hard-drive clean on this subject and look at the facts. In most nations, extreme nationalism is a reality of the political landscape. But when did you last see a Davis Cup tie awash with nationalist thugs or mortifying outbursts of patriotic fervor - that is, outbursts that go beyond the benign habit of waving tiny flags, dressing in dopey hats, or painting a flag on a cheek? If Davis Cup is really a venue for expressing aggressive or unhealthy nationalism, where are the ugly incidents and unruly crowds of disenchanted nativists? Heck, the Australian Open produced a bigger (Serb vs. Croat) nationalistic "incident" this year than all the ties of last week, combined.

Davis Cup is primarily a celebration of national diversity (there have been exceptions and ugly incidents, but not recently). It offers players an inspirational opportunity to feel like they're representing all their countrymen, not just themselves.

It gives fans a chance to pull for a team, not just a personality, and to show who they are in roughly the same way the people do when they get up to sing Karaoke, or attend, say, the St. Patrick's Day parade . Time after time, face-painted Swedes sit beside flag-waving Russians or Australians, and what's the end result? Sometimes one group cheers and chants the dumb Swedish cheer (somehow, "jo" is always part of it), sometimes the other group cheers and waves its Boxing 'Roo flag. Can you say "innocent"?

In real, where-the-rubber-meets-the-road terms, Davis Cup has a lot more in common with your run-of-the-mill UN committee meeting than with many soccer matches I've seen.

It is a meeting rather than a clash of nations, even though it takes place under blunt,competitive terms. There is a winner and a loser, but nobody burns down the stadium. If anything, Davis Cup is an antidote to fierce nationalism, not a capitulation to it.

Farewell to Davis Cup, at least for two months.