!Bongo by Pete Bodo
LONDON—When Jo-Wilfried Tsonga was asked to explain why he might enjoy meeting Muhammad Ali, the boxer whom Tsonga resembles in a number of ways, he was hard-put to come up with an elaborate reply. The trace of a smile crept over his face and he offered the hint of a shrug as he answered, "Just a nice moment, you know, because in life you have to live of course some good moments. That's it."
As an explanation, it must have been an easy one to arrive at because Tsonga had just lived one of those precious moments, his stirring and improbable five-set quarterfinal win over Wimbledon icon Roger Federer. I say "improbable," because while Ali specialized in winning enormous, world-riveting prize fights with his fists, Tsonga thus far in his career has too often lost the small, winnable matches that are the building blocks of a good career. And he hasn't exactly stepped up at major events. At the outset today, it appeared that he once again was about to disappoint.
In all fairness, part of Tsonga's long-term problem has been a string of injuries: whereas this Wimbledon is Roger Federer's 47th consecutive Grand Slam appearance, Tsonga has only played 16 majors, and never more than eight consecutively, even though he's already 26 years old.
Today, though, none of that mattered, in one of those rare matches that featured a simple, brutal narrative (think of the usual beginning-middle-end saga, but without any middle to speak of). Tsonga started slowly. Imagine a steam locomotive just about to depart, the steel wheels squealing and protesting as the coupling rods force them to turn. He came out so cold that, as John McEnroe observed, "It looks like he just came out of a freezer."
In the blink of an eye, it seemed, Tsonga lost the first set 3-6 and was heading into a make-or-break second-set tiebreaker. Still, from about midway through the first set, Tsonga was playing quite well, but was lost like features of a landscape under the blizzard of Federer winners. But Federer raced through the tiebreaker, 7-3, and Andy Murray and Feliciano Lopez must have jumped up in the locker room to start stretching, eat a bananna, or pack the racket bag, for they were next up on Centre Court.
It got worse. At one point early in the third set, Federer, standing on the baseline, appeared ready to powder a forehand. He stepped back in that signature way of his, to get a little more oomph behind his shot, but deftly turned the racket face and kissed an exquisite drop-shot across the net. As McEnroe said, "It's like getting a pie in the face." Given that Federer, who plays quickly, was finishing his service games in under two minutes (literally; his average was 1:47) it appeared that this might go down as the shortest Wimbledon quarterfinal in history.
Instead, it became one of the shortest five-set quarterfinals ever played here, at 3:08, with Tsonga winning 3-6, 6-7 (3), 6-4, 6-4, 6-4. Like that steam locomotive, Tsonga proved virtually impossible to stop once he got out of the railyard and the engine and wheels overcame the enormous start-up inertia. This was a match with a single turning point, which is a very brief middle to stick between the beginning and end.
That juncture occurred in the third game of the third set, when a volley error and a carelessly mishit overhead left Federer down 15-40. He dispatched the first break point with a service winner, and the second with a forehand blast. But a forehand winner earned Tsonga another break point, and he converted that one with a dazzling, running forehand pass down the line.
Huh?
At that point, a wiser man or woman than I might have noted that despite the huge lead, Federer had seen exactly one break point—already two fewer than Tsonga. It was an omen, too, for Federer would not see a break point for the rest of the match—and I doubt that the 100 percent conversion rate he posted on his lone opportunity gave him much comfort. "It was more just a serving contest," Federer would eventually say of the match. "Good one-two punches."
It was an accurate description, but it fails to answer why and how Federer could go from winning to losing in what amounted to a turn on a dime. After all, Federer even posted a better first-serve-points-won percentage than Tsonga, 78 percent to 73. Granted, Tsonga's serve is heavier, but Federer won a slightly higher percentage of his second serves as well. This tells you that Fedrerer had an easier time holding serve, so how come he couldn't hold onto the match?
To me, the answer lies partly in the superior mental toughness shown by Tsonga. After he finally won it, he explained, "I think I improve a lot mentally. I'm stronger because I change a lot of things and now I try to stay focused at the time and just breathe and stay quiet. I did it today and it worked. . . I played three years now, not far from the Top 10, or in the Top 10, and now I want more." He added, as if for emphasis, "I want more."
But the monochromatic turnaround can't be explained merely by Tsonga's newfound gumption. At many points in the final two sets I found myself wondering if Federer really wanted the match with the same degree of yearning. For he's at that point in his career where the wanting is no longer automatic, and sometimes a player gets stuck and starts spinning his wheels because he wants to want it, rather than simply wanting it—if that makes sense.
I don't know how else explain the curious air of detachment about Federer as the match ground on. Most champions walk with their heads held high, and at least attempt to convey a sense of confidence control, even when all the walls are tumbling around about them. By contrast, Federer seemed to retreat into a shell. He appeared to run for balls less because he wanted to than because had to; it was a reactive attitude that certainly could not have helped him get a jump on Tsonga's serve or even his groundstrokes. Tsonga was powerful and swift, but did Federer's passivity make him appear a little bit more invincible than he was? It's a tough question to answer.
What I do know for sure is that for long periods, Federer just hung his head, accepting his punishment—those sledgehammer serves, those lashing forehands and stinging volleys!—like a guilty schoolboy. I tried to imagine what I would write in a thought bubble above Federer's head when I regarded his comportment, and the best I could come up with was, This guy is playing great, what the hail am I doing out here? Maybe he'll trip and break a leg. . .
Federer's reaction to the loss also was remarkably temperate. For the second year, he had a chance to equal his pal Pete Sampras' mark of seven Wimbledon singles titles, and for the second year he came up short. He was entitled to defend his performance by saying, "Look, I played too good to (be upset). It wasn't a shocker, second-round loss in straight sets, some stupid match I played. It was a great match, I think, from both sides. To talk bad about this match would be unfortunate, I think. I really did play well, and I also thought Jo played an amazing match, as good as I've seen him play for such a long period of time."
But is that really a good baseline for a champ, that he didn't lose to a stiff in the second round? Federer also added, "Even though I took a tough loss today, I don't feel, you know, discouraged in any way. I think that's key right now, to not let anything get to me."
When a veteran champion makes a point of saying he has to keep from letting things get to him, you know things are getting to him. Adopting a philosphical attitude is always a good thing, but in tennis it's not the best thing. The best thing is to strive and give yourself over entirely to something you really want, the way Tsonga wanted this match, adding a twist to that most famous line of Muhammad Ali's, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."
Today, Tsonga's serve was less stinger than bludgeon, but his attitude throughout the match could almost be described as carefree.
"I felt so good on the court," he said. "I was quick, I was just perfect today, I don't know—every time I was feeling like a dream, you know? Even at two sets down, because I was in a quarterfinals against Roger Federer. The stadium was full. It was 6-3, 7-6, I was not ridiculous. I was in my match and, yeah, feeling good all the match."
It wasn't a championship fight for tennis's version of Muhammad Ali, but today he knocked out a champ. The title fight is still one bout removed.