Sometimes you have to wonder about injuries. Are they all in the players’ heads?
Early last week, I lolled in the conference room at TENNIS Magazine’s office eating a sandwich and watching a brutally dull, rhythm-less match from Cincinnati between Andy Roddick and an Italian no-name with an Elvis-like upper-lip snarl. Actually, he did have a name, Daniele Bracciali, and a game, too. A strange one, with virtually no backswing on either of his ground strokes or his serve, but wicked propulsion on all three. A year ago, I sat in Centre Court at Wimbledon when Bracciali took Roddick to five sets. Along the way, he hit perhaps the hardest non-serve I’ve ever seen, cracking a forehand return that landed near the middle of the court but still rocketed past Roddick, who had barely finished his service motion by the time the ball thudded against the tarp behind him. It was the same story in Cincy. Bracciali controlled the action for most of three long sets with lightning strikes from the baseline. As events went downhill, Roddick began to hold his side, as if the injury that had forced him out of Los Angeles a couple weeks before was flaring up again. Roddick looked to his entourage in the stands and eventually called a trainer. In the ESPN booth, Patrick McEnroe and Cliff Drysdale speculated about whether he should continue to play with the U.S. Open only two weeks away.
Roddick, seemingly with some reluctance, stuck it out. In part this was because he couldn’t bear to lose another match, not right now—never mind his Open chances or his ranking. Bracciale maintained control of the points and had very good chances to win in each of the last two sets, but he flinched at the crucial moments. Roddick kept fighting off the Italian’s terse attack and was the one left standing in the end. His injury—what was the problem again?—was quickly forgotten.
For some reason, it never came back. Why? Most likely because Roddick was winning. This phenomenon isn’t limited to Andy, of course. I’m always amazed by how much less tired I feel after I win even a single point. But Andy took that winning feeling to a new level in Cincinnati, gaining confidence with each match. By the weekend he looked like the strutting, power-hitting No. 1 who struck fear into all of his opponents in 2003.
The key was his nighttime quarterfinal against Andy Murray. Roddick made this one into an all-or-nothing grudge match—Murray was 5-0 in sets against him, had sent him home from Wimbledon, and was now coached by his ex, Brad Gilbert. The charged atmosphere that Roddick created made for entertaining TV, but I was of two minds about it. On the one hand, I felt like Roddick overdid it. He glared at Murray all evening, smirked when he made him look bad on a drop shot, and preened like he had just won the Grand Slam when it was all over. It was enough to make even a Roddick fan feel for the scrawny teenager from Scotland. On the other hand, it worked: Roddick succeeded in making his opponent buy into the showdown concept. Early on, Murray took a short ball and drilled it right at Roddick, missing badly. From there, he couldn’t calm down enough to play his usual controlled style. It had become personal, and that wasn’t going to work for Murray in front of a buzzing audience in middle America. Once he knew Murray was willing to get personal, Roddick used his anger and the crowd’s support to play tightly aggressive tennis. It wasn’t until Murray was down two breaks in the second that he showed off his trademark variety and point-construction skills. He began to win points, but it was too little too late.
Roddick didn’t need to make the final against Juan Carlos Ferrero personal. Both guys must have been equally happy to be there. They had each spent time at No. 1 in 2003, the final year of the pre-Federer era, but they had struggled since. Shockingly, neither had won a tournament this year or a Masters title since 2004. But as in their ’03 U.S. Open final, Roddick had too much hard-court firepower for the Spaniard. Andy’s serve was particularly effective. This might not sound like much of an observation about the man who’s hit the five fastest serves in history, but lately it had seemed that Roddick’s opponents were learning to handle his big first delivery. Not this week: Andy placed his serve the way he had when he was dominating, hitting lines both out wide and up the T. Otherwise, he played a solid, pressing baseline game. His backhand wasn't spectacular, but he hit it with conviction and didn’t let any of his opponents exploit it. Finally, Roddick forced his way to the net as often as he could. What he lacked in volleying skill, he made up for in hard-charging intimidation.
Roddick played all his matches on his terms (after Bracciali, that is), and if he does that at the Open, he’s once again a threat. Hey, I picked him to win it at the beginning of 2006, and I haven’t been wrong in the men’s Slams yet—not that choosing Federer, Nadal, and Federer in the first three took a whole lot of prognosticating genius.
Speaking of Nadal and Fed, what happened to the Rivalry in Cincy? This was the first Masters event since 2004 that one of them didn't win (excluding Paris '05 and Hamburg '06, in which they weren’t entered). But last week they went down with nary a wimper between them. First it was Sire Jacket going out to Murray in straight sets in the second round. Did he tank? Not exactly—Federer smacked a ball out of the stadium in anger, so he must have cared at some point. In the last game, though, he waved lamely at one volley and then shanked a couple ground strokes after half-hearted swings. It seemed that Federer was conflicted about whether to give his all, knowing that a run to the title in Cincy might not be the best thing for his U.S. Open chances. Still, he had had nearly a month off before playing in Toronto; how tired could he be? Overall, it was the weakest showing of the year for the world’s best—good thing David Foster Wallace didn’t have to see it before writing his love letter to Federer in this week’s NY Times.
Nadal also showed less than his usual resistance in losing to Ferrero in the quarterfinals. It was the first time I had ever seen him breathing heavily, and he lacked any kind of fire for long stretches of the match. Nadal is a guy who needs to be desperate and fully fired up. That’s one reason I think he lost the Wimbledon final—he didn’t have to win; getting that far was enough. Unlike Federer, Nadal's not so much better than the rest of the pack that he can play routine tennis and win every week. Pat Mac may have had it right: Nadal was 9-0 in sets against Ferrero, and he appeared to think he could continue his dominance by playing a deep-baseline, clay-court style. Not so against the rejuvenated Ferrero, who fully deserved his upset wins over James Blake and Nadal.
All in all, with the various ups and downs of Roddick, Federer, Nadal, Murray, Gasquet, Gonzalez, Ferrero, Berdych, and Blake, Cincy and Toronto have made the U.S. Open a more wide-open and interesting event than it appeared to be just two weeks ago.
I’ll be on a short vacation this week. The reading list has been narrowed to a choice between the Bodo-recommended Blood Meridean by Cormac McCarthy, the highly proper Brideshead Revisited, or the recently revived early Philip Roth novel Letting Go. Any recommendations? Or should I just take a stack of Maxim mags and a couple six-packs and call it a day? Either way, I’ll be back next weekend to go over the draw for the Big Show, and I’ll have daily wraps over the course of the two weeks from Flushing Meadows.