I watched a fair amount of women's tennis these past few days, so I thought I'd give it a break and check out the men's quarters today. I was feeling pretty invincible, so I left my helmet back in the press center as I went to watch Roger Federer grapple with Fernando Gonzalez. The press section at Suzanne Lenglen is right behind the baseline, and you know how Gonzo is with those optic yellow IFOs.
Not too many players are inclined to step up against Gonzo and trade shots with him on his terms, but you know how The Mighty Fed is; going in against most guys, his attitude is, Hey, everybody gets a trophy! He's not the type to rub your nose in his excellence, so if you want to bang big forehands from the baseline, bring it on, and if you're lucky you might walk away feeling pretty danged good about yourself - even though you lost.
And so it was. Roger was kitted out, like Maria Sharapova (and half of the rest of the planet, it seems), in that navy, authentic flight attendant uniform. And he wasted no time conveying to the faithful in Lenglen that it was time to fasten their seat belts and stow their tray tables. At the start, though, the distinction between pilot and co-pilot was unclear; it was that kind of day for Gonzalez. The 10-1 head-to-head advantage Federer toted into the arena was comforting for TMF fans; on the other hand, the men have the same number of clay-court titles (7), and they share 7th place on list of active players headed by Rafael Nadal with 21 (that's no typo). But let's leave that problem for another day - Sunday, maybe?
Anyway, Gonzo was on fire in the first set, with TMF happily throwing gasoline onto the blaze. It didn't seem to bother him that playing right into the wheelhouse of the only man in the Roland Garros draw who hasn't lost a match on clay (Gonzo was 16-0) may not have been his best strategy. It should be abundantly clear by now that on any surface, against any man (but one), Roger don't need no stinkin' strategy. He can let an opponent set the table, serve the meal, pour the wine, choose the desert - and guess who ends up getting stuck with the check?
You know, I'm only semi-kidding about that strategy bit. This match, at least the first set, was a marvelous demonstration that when two quality players go into a match with the right, bold, relaxed attitude, one thing and one thing only counts: which one can utilize the court space that tiny bit better, in a way that, even if it doesn't exactly put an opponent back on his heels, forces him to hit shots slightly outside his comfort zone - a little too high, a little too low, a little too far wide to either side for the hombre to get a great look and unload a harsh blast.
Gosh it was nice watching two terrific players hitting the ball without inhibition, picture-perfect placements pouring off each of their rackets, leaving you free from having to figure out just who was trying to do what, and with what degree of success, like some freakin' tennis expert or something. You want to talk about the shanked volley that saved a break point for TMF at in the first game of the first set (a game he saved after being down love-40), go right ahead. Or the way Gonzo stepped around a penetrating forehand service return to powder an inside-out winner to save the second game of the second set? Feel free. Just leave me out of it, I was too busy enjoying myself just watching this one. It's something everyone ought to try sometime. . .
But getting back to the match: I sat with Chuck Culpepper a London-based Los Angeles Times correspondent, and an old pal, ESPN commentator Luke Jensen. It was agreeable company in which to savor a match, and a player who has created an unprecedented marriage between "beautiful" tennis and winning tennis. Over the years I've seen many players who had pretty games; the signature weakness of most of them was an inability to convert their conspicuous talent and versatility into hard Ws. I asked my friends if either of them could think of a guy with a comparably fetching game, and we began comparing TMFs various strokes with those of other icons. Luke put it best when he observed. "It's like he has pieces of everybody (great)."
Wish I'd thought of that line myself. So I did the next best thing, I stole it.
Back to the match. Gonzo took the first set, with Roger giving him the reins to see how well and far he might run. To be honest, at times Roger seemed a smidgen apprehensive, as if he were thinking, What did I get myself into, going out to trade boomers with this guy? And Gonzo gave TMF all he could handle in that first set, winning it, 6-2.
TMF:
Such details are of passing interest, of course. They explain why TMF lost the first set, 2-6, instead of winning it by that margin. Those reasons undoubtedly flickered in Federer's mind, like shadows on a wall, when he was - very inconspicuously, given the way he was hitting the ball - in danger. But the last bit of the quote was both revealing and explanatory.
Okay, full disclosure: during the first game of the second set, I jotted the note, "Roger needs to slow it down." And that's pretty much what Roger did, given that mixing it up, hitting a few wrist-jarring first serves, ending points by sneaking in to put away volleys is tantamount to slowing it down against a player, like Gonzo, who has just two gears - fifth and overdrive. As the second set unfolded, you could almost feel Federer imposing a template on the game. He took command of the pace, and stepped up to challenge Gonzo to beat him at his game, rather than his own. It was Roger Federer, in his own, magisterial, bad-self way, letting Gonzo know that while he would indeed get a trophy, it would be a smaller one than his own. Like it or not.
