Ever wish you had the Tennis Channel? It’s a bonus for any fan, but consider: Last week I walked into a colleague’s office and opened a conversation by saying, not without urgency, “Don’t tell me who won Gaudio-Ginepri, I’m watching it later.” He paused and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but OK.”
The channel, which hasn’t exactly been spreading like wildfire around the country, had wall-to-wall coverage of the men’s Paris Masters event from Monday to Sunday. It was a case of many hours and few stars, as Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Lleyton Hewitt, Andre Agassi, and defending champion Marat Safin all took passes. Coupled with rampant pullouts on the women’s side—the winners of the first three majors, the Williams sisters and Justine Henin-Hardenne, will skip next week’s WTA Championships—the tours sank to simultaneous low points last week. Every season the game limps to the finish line with injuries and declining player motivation, but it’s worse than ever in 2005. The tournaments have been reduced to asking the players simply to show up to do promotional work on the sidelines. Yesterday Safin, his hair in full frizz, was trotted out like some kind of retired legend to present the trophies in Paris. Even outgoing ATP chief Mark Miles says there are too many tournaments. Can anyone deny that the players and the powers-that-be need to sit down and talk about what can be done to keep the sport healthy?
The crowds in Paris didn’t seem to mind any of this. Even without young French guns Richard Gasquet and Gael Monfils—both of whom withdrew—fans were enthusiastic from thestart. Their countrymen filled in for the big names early in the week. Arnaud Clement kicked things off by beating Nicolas Kiefer in a classic three-setter; Paul-Henri Mathieu rode his usual emotional roller coaster; and Fabrice Santoro conjured away in his alternate tennis universe.
The reigning American in Paris, Andy Roddick, was also an entertaining presence. Looking a little ragged around the edges—his hair poked out from under his ever-present (and inexplicable) backwards cap—Roddick demolished Dominik Hrbaty early. It was so bad that announcer John Barrett described the head-hanging Slovak during the second set as a “forlorn figure creeping toward the net” on a changeover. Roddick also gutted out a third-set tiebreaker against David Ferrer. But he tweaked his back in that match and went down limply to Ivan Ljubicic in the semis.
The clown prince of Paris, whether he meant to be or not, was the Czech Republic’s Radek Stepanek, who reached the semis. Stepanek is an unreconstructed geek, Ivan Lendl look-alike, and a proverbial breath of fresh air on the men’s side. He plays with a tucked-in shirt and high-riding shorts, walks on his toes, uses a near-Continental grip on his forehand, and serves and volleys. He also shows up every single week and rounds out his game by playing doubles.
It’s his variety that makes any Stepanek match interesting. He can blunt a slugger’s power with his volleying skills and change pace by switching from a two-handed backhand drive to a one-handed slice in mid-point. His serve is strong and useful, but he won’t bore a crowd with aces. Best are his celebrations. He begins with a quick shriek and a half-embarrassed, Tim Henman-esque fist-pump. As a match progresses, he’ll spastically bounce up and down on both feet after winning a point. Finally, to celebrate one win last week he dropped his racquet and went into the old break-dance move “the worm.” At least I think that’s what it was; either way, it’s in the same nerd tradition as his countryman Petr Korda’s famous celebratory scissors-kick.
But Stepanek was also gracious and crowd-pleasing in defeat. No sulking multi-millionaire, he walked off after his semifinal loss bowing and smiling. He was also sporting a bizarre, referee-style, zebra-striped jacket. But it didn’t matter, the Parisians liked him even more for it.
Stepanek’s defeat came at the hands of another Czech, and the tournament’s biggest story, 20-year-old Tomas Berdych. The 6-foot-4 power hitter has been a top-player-in-the-making for a couple of years—in 2004, he beat Federer at the Olympics—but has had severely erratic results. Compared with fellow prodigy Nadal, Berdych, pale, irritable, and prone to stretches of indifferent tennis, has seemed a bit of a cold fish.
Like Safin, Berdych stretches the limits of how tall and rangy a player can be and still hit huge ground strokes consistently. Few players generate so much power with so little effort. But few pros typically hit three winners to break serve one game, then give the break back the next game with four horrid errors. Berdych still does this kind of thing. After four sets of up-and-down tennis against Ljubicic yesterday, Berdych’s two major weapons—a huge serve and controlling forehand, what else?—didn’t desert him. This could, and should, be the start of something big.
Berdych’s breakthrough is also a reason to feel good about tennis’ future in spite of all the usual dispiriting news. While the game’s schedule is always a mess, and the top players inevitably grow jaded, this year brought us an impressive group of newcomers to the men’s side. Put Berdych together with teenagers Nadal, Gasquet, Monfils, Andy Murray, and Serbian hotshot Novak Djokovic and you’ve got a stylish and talented next generation in the making. Hopefully it will be a year or two before they get too rich to bother showing up.