Howdy. I'm feeling a little sideways today. The unrelenting interruptions, combined with the backlog of matches and a host of other chores (you can check out my entry, on Novak Djokovic, at my ESPN blog tomorrow), has got me feeling like today was like a box of different size nuts and bolts dumped out on my desk, and now I have to try to find a way to put them all together. Think I'll just go bit by bit, trying to touch as many bases as I can.
One of the most daunting problems you get when a tournament gets jammed up like this one is akin to the phenonomna called "analysis paralysis." So I got here this morning, and saw that the schedule had Venus Williams on Centre Court, with Djokovic and Hewitt on Court 1, Youzhny and Nadal on Court 2, Davydenko and Baghdatis on Court 13, Berdych vs. BJorkman on Court 18 - and that's first matches of the day, starting at 11 AM.
The next wave of matches, to follow the first, featured Ivanovic, Vaidisova, some guy named Federer, Roddick and Gasquet. You might call this a feast: I call it force-feeding, like the French still do when they nail a poor goose's feet to a plank and fatten him up via a tube, to create foie gras.
It was enough to make a lesser man chuck his laptop into the nearest puddle, throw his hand in the air, and exclaim, "I give up."
So I did what came most easily. Nothing. My colleagues and I in row 16 of the Press Center all had our monitors turned to different courts, and all you had to do to take in all the action was slowly swing your head from left to right, then back again, over and over, to feel like the omniscent tennis observor. Why go outside, if it's only going to start pouring in a few minutes anyway? So these were my impressions:
Centre Court:
Kuznetsova vs. Williams - Venus played her second high quality match today; this suggests that she may have found the consistency she'll need to win the title, but I'm not convinced of that just yet. There wasn't much Sveta could do. She had her golden, shoulder-length corn rows in place, and that plump tummy only increased her resemblance to. . . Oracene Williams.
But the fair-skinned sister in braids didn't stand a chance. After the match, she had her corn rows removed (for you fashionistas, she insists they were "corn rows" and not "braids", although to me they looked kind of like telephone cords do when they get all twisted up). Perhaps shedding half her locks was a subconscious form of penance, for allowing herself to have been ground into corn meal in Venus's harvester. Great, just what Sveta needs. More humility!
At one point, Venus hit Sveta with an ace. Had that ever happened before, someone asked her? "Not really."
So now Venus is matched in the semis with Breathless Ana Ivanovic; it's not the worst draw Venus has ever pulled.
Ivanovic vs. Vaidisova - Ivanovic showed all the poise and focus she lacked in the French Open final in her comeback against Vaidisova. Ivanovic brushed aside three match points and won four games running to take the third set from Vaidisova, after which the willowy Czech lass went AWOL. Long after her presser was announced, WTA communications manager John Dolan was dashing around, "Has anybody seen Nicole?"
Vaidisova did eventually turn up and I'll say not a word against her. Blowing three match points to miss out on a semifinal Wimbledon slot is a Get Out of Jail card. Ivanovic was also thrilled to get onto Centre Court, a place that the Lords of Wimbledon will have a hard time keeping her away from over the next few days, even if she must row there. Ivanovic's most endearing trait: the way she uses the the gerund form as a noun when she says, "I'm really exciting to be in the semifinal coming." She is very exciting about everything, and who can blame her? We're exciting about her too, right?
Roger Federer vs. J.C. Ferrero - This was my first live glimpse of The Mighty Fed this year at Wimbledon, although Rosia claims she saw him mucking around with a racquet down by the tube station, near the takeaway noodle place. All I can say is that he's set a new baseline for the man-purse with that thing he had hanging on his shoulder.
The bag looks a little like one of those ultra-expensive designer bags built for carting around a dog, right down to the faint, Beverly Hills waffle-pattern in the fabric, or leather, or pleather, or whatever the hail it was. However, the portable kennel was big enough to hold a Rottweiller (Moment of silence, please, for my late Rotti, Cady). It's unlike Roger to make a big statement like that, but one of those detestable fanny packs is an even worse option.
J.C., it has been noted, bears a striking resemblance to many depictions of Jesus Christ, while the outdoor announcement board in front of the church near our apartment on Ridgway Road declares, in large white letters on black: God Made Roger Federer (this is true). That may be true, but some clown who probably wears thick-framed black glasses and crystals around his neck dressed him. My feeling: Roger is wearing his current Wimbledon get-up because he thinks he's already enshrined in the Wimbledon museum as the greatest champion of all-time, and long white flannels and a white dinner jacket seem coin of the realm there. Why not?
Of course, I didn't actually get to see Roger play much tennis (the first set doesn't count when you haven't swung a racquet in anger in a week), because the rains quickly washed out the match. But I have a funny feeling I will see plenty before Monday, or whenever, arrives. . .
Court One:
Lleyton Hewitt vs. Novak Djokovic - This was an interesting match that I kept a close eye on, and I was struck by two things: The absolutely ghastly way Hewitt played the big points, and the way Djokovic abandoned all pretense to attacking on grass and ended up seemingly happy to trade baseline wallopers with Hewitt (that's the subject of my ESPN blog for tomorrow). But I don't think that embracing that strategy bodes well for the Djoker. I know it must feel good to meet Hewitt on his own terms and lick him, but this wasn't the Lleyton Hewitt of 2002 (when he won here). Hail, it isn't even the Lleyton Hewitt of 2001.
At least Djokovic understood my question when I raised this issue in his presser, and provided a thoughtful answer, part of which was: "I think I did well (attacking early in the match). Honestly, I could do more. I know that. But I'm still working on it. You know, that's why this is one of the things why I started working with Mark (Woodforde) as well. We are trying to work on the volleys, slice, these kind of things, especially for this surface. It's a matter of mental decision in the match, so I have time. I'm really not worried so much."
The match took well over four hours, and the litte Aussie's best service speed (128) was just two MPH slower than Djokovic's best. BTW, does anybody else notice that Hewitt looks and sounds, oh, maybe 15 times more mature than he did as little as two or three years ago? He was, for the longest time, a poster boy for arrested development, and he then seemed to be transformed into a man overnight. Too bad he's got so many miles on the odometer already.
Andy Roddick vs. Richard Gasquet - They took the court, started the warm-up, and the rain started to spit just as Andy was about to start his warm-up serves. He took a huge cut at an overhead, trying to drill it through the scoreboard from sheer frustration, as the match was called off.
Court 2:
Youzhny vs. Nadal - Youzhny's back gave out before Jet Boy's will did. This was an extremely dangerous opponent for Nadal on grass (and, the head-to-head argues, on most anything else but clay), but Nadal dug himself out of a two-set-to-none deficit quite impressively. I don't think anyone can doubt Jet Boy's attitude or game when it comes to grass anymore. He was ecstatic after the comeback from two sets down, proclaiming, "After the first two sets maybe I play my best game in grass in my life, no?" I've never seen a player so good on clay show so much enthusiasm for grass; he's like a kid trying to impressive a universal father figure: Hey, dad, watch this!
I've had a good time here talking with Spanish journalists. They are very supportive of Nadal, and have a great relationship with him, although that's partly because they don't feel a pressing need to be "objective" in quite the same way as their American colleagues. To some degree, that objectivity is an affectation; it's certainly more judgmental than the attitude of many in the Spanish press, who essentially see themselves as conduits from an idol to the public.
That doesn't mean they don't publish critical or controversial stories, but they seem to feel less of a need to generate them, or ride their hero's flaws to glory. It's genial, and at the end of the day, who cares?
One of the reporters told me today that Nadal is a "normal guy" because he has one strong person by his side, Tio Toni. And Toni apparently has often told Nadal: Listen, don't get carried away and think you're a very important person or anything like that. It's not like you're curing cancer. . . Recently, Nadal brought a bunch of his headbands into the press room and signed them for any reporters who wanted to have them. Wonder how I'd look in an blazing white headband signed by Rafael Nadal?
Well, I don't have that, but today a friend here, Jaume Pujol-Galceran Vilardell, gave me a book he and a colleague wrote about Rafael Nadal (it's apparently already a big seller in Spain; title: Rafael Nadal: Cronica de un Fenomeno). I was touched to see that Rafael Nadal had written an inscription to Tennis magazine and signed it with a nice note.
One of you will end up with this book, I haven't quite figured out how to choose the person yet. I am also going to try to get a copy of the recent book on Roger Federer (Quest for Perfection, by Swiss journalist Rene Stauffer), although I don't know if I can get it as easily. Not that I can't, but the Nadal book kind of fell into my lap thanks to the thoughtfulness of my colleagues and the courtesy of Nadal, so that's what I mean about the Spanish press.
Court 13:
Davydenko vs. Baghdatis: I got nothin' to say, except that Kolya I'm so Bored With Wimbledon Davydenko got bored right out of the tournament. Can Baghdatis be in resurgence, for real? I'll try to find out tomorrow.
Court 18:
Berdych vs. Bjorkman - Hey everybody, Jonas goes postal! It turns out that Yoh-nass has this thing about - get this - chair umpires. One of those dog vs. cat things. He lost two love sets (but snatched one, 7-6, in between) in his four-set loss. A portion of the presser revolved around an apparent bad call against Yoh-nass at some point in the third set, which, oddly enough, was the only set the guy won. So the whole thing was moot, but Jonas wasn't going to let that detail derail him. He ripped the umpire a new one and also confessed at at the end of the presser that he often refuses to shake hands with an umpire - which strikes me as a very un-Yoh-nass like thing to do.
Perhaps more importantly, as far as Wimbledon is concerned, Yoh-nass also said this about Berdych: "He got the perfect game to beat Nadal. He's hitting the ball hard. He can hit winners from every position. Serves well. He beat him before, so I think he probably has a pretty good game plan.
But, you know, he got a massive game. You know, he's a great front runner. When he gets up an early break, he's very tough to play. You know, I think he has good chances."
You know, it's funny. TMF is just rolling through this tournament without a smidgen of drama, controversy or intrigue - in a bizarre way, he's in the same place on the radar as a rank journeyman who's not going to get any attention until he makes a big statement.
Trouble is, there's no statement big enough any longer, short of Federer winning his fifth consecutive title here. Then, of course, it will be all about TMF. Dude's too good for his own good, which brings us back to his choice of accessories. Think of them as a lonely cry for attention in a world where he can't get any -at least not for the same reason everyone else does.
As if.
Well, that's it for tonight. I understand that many of you are also feeling a little sideways about the way this tournament is going. Condolences and good-night!