So many of you at TennisWorld are rip-snortin' Fernando Gonzalez fans that I thought it might be fun to ask the hirsute one if he was aware of his fan base in the U.S., his nickname—"Gonzo"—and what the affectionate name means. When I asked, in the presser he held after demolishing Tommy Haas, he replied without missing a beat: "The Americans call me Gonzo."
"Yes," I said.
'What does that mean?" he asked.
"Kind of crazy, unpredictable, kind of a wild man on the court."
"I didn't know it. I thought it was for Gonzalez."
"Well you have a lot of fans out there. Are you afraid to give up the label?"
"It's okay, because it's true."
This elicited a laugh from the assembled press, and my chief reaction was that you had better be a little Gonzo, and a lot good, to go out in a Grand Slam final and grind with Roger Federer—which is exactly what Gonzo will do tomorrow. Just how good a match we see may depend on which Gonzo shows up, the 42-3 Gonzo, or the 3-42 Gonzo. For in a startlingly welcome and frank moment, Gonzo admitted, when asked if he had ever before made just three unforced errors in a match, "Never. And one was a really stupid that I did (smiling). But normally, I did like 45 mistakes and two winners many years, so now I'm really happy because I've been doing this for the last matches."
This comment tells an awful lot about tomorrow's match-up, beyond the obvious. For one thing, note that Gonzalez was a bit peeved at having made one "really stupid" as opposed to semi-stupid, mistake. This guy is paying attention—something he hasn't exactly been famous for doing in the past. And his last sentence may be the key to the entire shooting match: Gonzo has been one of those guys who's famous for neglecting to save his great performances to the hard drive once they're done. That he played two matches of unassailable quality going into the final is surely going to help his confidence in those long hours of doing nothing much at all which precede the final.
Gonzalez's bearing in the presser was impressive. Last year, when Marcos Baghdatis sat in the same seat, the dream-like quality of the moment was striking. It always is, when a player unexpectedly emerges from among the lower ranks to contest a major final. This is a mixed blessing: It's wonderful, magical. But are we dealing with a new reality here, or a reverie? How long can you hold reality at bay, especially when the fella sent to re-establish it is a stud like Federer?
While there was a fair aura of magic about Gonzo's last two matches and pressers, his euphoria quotient has been relatively low. This clearly is a guy who's gotten disgruntled bouncing around like the silver marble in a pinball machine. He's been doing that for three or four years now and, if you want to get all New-Agey about it, he recognizes that it's all a "process." With a roll of the die tomorrow, he can convert the 45,324 bonehead-error chips he's piled up into championship currency. I'm not trying to get all fancy and writerly on you here. The point is that this is no Baghdatis, new to the party and blissfully unaware of how much history goes into the making of any Grand Slam champ who isn't, like a Federer or Nadal, to the manor born.
This morning, when I saw Heinz Gunthardt, he made an interesting observation: Haas had given Gonzalez exactly the same kinds of looks that Federer gave Andy Roddick in the previous semifinal—short balls, some of them off-speed, that amounted to a dare: Do something with this, big boy! Unlike Roddick, Gonzalez powdered those balls with ferocity and finality.
Still, the big question going into the final seems to be how well Gonzo's restructured backhand will hold up; even Gonzo said, in a wonderfully evocative description: "Before I feel like I have a big hole on my left (backhand) side. Now I don't have it. . . Before, I could panic if I stay too much here (backhand), now I can stay here and wait for the other to make something, or I can create many things."
Given his opponent, it's a fair bet to say "the other" will "make something." And just what Mr. Other makes is bound to have a huge impact on what Gonzo will be able to create.
So what about Mr. Other?
I was very curious to gauge Federer's reaction to the Gonzo lovefest when he came for his pre-final interview a short while ago. It was immediately apparent that he wasn't about to give any ground. When I asked him if he saw Gonzo's match last night, he said just: "Three games only."
Next question?
A short while later, when I asked Roger what he expected to see from Gonzo tomorrow, he replied, in part: "Usually you play against Fernando, you always know it's going to be dangerous because he's got the ability to all of a sudden steamroll. I've been able to beat him every time we played. You know, I know the danger of playing against him.
I wouldn't make too much if this non-sequitor. Did I tell you I'm the greatest journalist since Hunter S. Thompson? But it was an amusing and not entirely delicate shot fired across Gonzo's bow. You see what I mean?
It wondered if Federer preferred to play a proven champ (Rafael Nadal, Marat Safin, Andy Roddick) in a major final, instead of a wild-card finalist, riding a wave of sentiment and lights-out tennis. I asked about that, and Roger said:
I don't know about you, but I count least two more cannonballs whizzing over Gonzo's yardarm in that quote, the choicest one being the sly reference to Marcos' five-setters. Now a Federer KAD might find this analysis somewhat irritating, but you know what? It's a good omen that Fed's hackles are ever-so-slightly raised here. He's a lot better going in against Gonzo with a little bit of a hate on; it speaks both to his pride—and humility—as a champion. When Federer takes you seriously, with a capital "S", it's time to wonder just what you've gotten yourself into with all those winners.
Speaking of which: Gonzo is a mind-boggling +177 in his winner-to-error ratio (307 winners to 130 errors), while Federer is a stellar +95 (240-150). Whatever happens, I have a funny feeling it's going to be good.