The Crucible of Risk

So my pet peeve for today is those free newspapers they lay on the Subway Sect and other commuters. In NYC, they're "Metro" and "AM New York." You know how some New Yorkers mourned the day the chains and franchise shops invaded Manhattan (we're talking Wendy's, K-Mart, Home Depot - none of which had a presence here before)? I feel that way about these papers. They're bland, generic, tabs - a big city version of the local Pennysaver. I'd rather read the subway poster ads.

By contrast, a mere quarter gets you the *New York Post*, which, now that the once stentorian Daily Snooze is going down the toilet, really has the content, attitude and chutzpah worthy of this brassy city. And what about the august New York Times (for whom I frequently write)? The key is "august." The NYT has been trying to enhance its status as a national newspaper, and it eschews the populist approach; in other words, it has no "street cred" despite it's obvious heft and importance. Those 3,000 word pieces on the latest modern dance troupe just aryone's idea of a fun, quick read.

Anyway, Miguel "I play just like Federer but I do have a forehand drop shot" Seabra just called and emailed me about his plans for Shanghai. He's going to try to pull off some interesting stuff: tour-related thoughts from some ATP honchos, semi-exclusive material from The Mighty Fed. . . a turn in the Comments by Mario Ancic.

As he wrote: "That will please the girls (sometimes the Comments section reads like it's written in a hair salon, with the girls talking amongst themselves.)"

That's our Tribe, where the warrior princesses like "sexy" and don't give a hang what anybody thinks of it!

Mike also is open to TW readers posting questions for each of the "8 mandarins" (his clever phrase), and he'll make an effort to get answers, either in the formal press conferences or via one-on-ones. I will post a Bulletin to solicit questions this weekend, if you have something special to ask TMF or Jet Boy or Dah-Veed the Tubby Chick Magnet.

Now let's get back to this "Warrior Moment" issue I raised in my first blog for ESPN. Many of you wrote rebuttals to my suggestion that Roger Federer needs to win some epic matches or turn some riveting feats in order to further convince average sports fan - and many astute tennis fans - that he's a terrific candidate for the GOAT title (assuming he also does the heavy lifting on the Grand Slam title front).

Some of you argued that TMF is just "too good" to get embroiled in one of those Sampras vs. Corretja bloodbaths; others said that TMF has had plenty of warrior moments, starting with his win over Sampras in their only meeting - a fourth-round encounter (Wimbledon, 2001) that went 7-5 in the fifth and ended Pete's 31-match win streak at the All-England Club.

First off, I'm not sure anybody is so universally good that he doesn't come face-to-face with at least a handful of those gut-check moments throughout a career, and if he doesn't, at some point that becomes as much of a comment on the competition as the player's own prowess (It doesn't seem "fair' but that has nothing to do with it).

There's just a point where "he's too good" morphs into "everybody else stinks", and when that happens the real victim (aside from those desultory contender-impersonators) is the player too good for his own good. I have seen just one invulnerable player in all of my time in tennis: Bjorn Borg on clay. If you review his French Open record,  you have to be astonished at the ease with which he won on red dirt, and the really mind-blowing aspect of it is that he was especially dominant over clay court specialists. Nadal is approaching that benchmark on clay, and both Sampras and Federer have come close to showing that level of superiority on grass. But nobody has shown it on all surfaces.

But the bigger point here has to do with a player making career-defining statements, even if those statements sometimes lose a bit of luster when you take human emotion and perception out of the equation. And to some degree, those warrior moments are the product of luck and circumstance (overcoming extraneous factors, like illness, along with a tough opponent) as much as anything else. So what? This is called fate, and we all come face-to-face with it.

For instance, the single most "defining" match for Sampras was that epic win over Corretja at the U.S. Open. If that match had been played almost anywhere but at the U.S. Open, at a Grand Slam in a media-saturated environment, it would never have achieved its present, iconic status. Once again, so what? It isn't about fair. The match inarguably defined Sampras as a champion of surpassing skill, tenacity and courage. It provided his great springboard to tennis Olympus - he went from being an aloof, impassive, "merely" brilliant player to living legend.

If Sampras had lost the match, or elected to retire (or not play it at all), it doesn't even factor on his resume. But he played and won, and turned a godawful day into a defining moment.

Some of you pointed to TMF's come-from-behind, 5-set win over Rafael Nadal at the 2005 Key Biscayne tournament as a comparable feat. I had thought of that one, before I wrote my original post. But for all the glory of Federer's comeback in that one, the ultimate question is: what impact did it have, to what degree was it the springboard? The respective answers are, not a whole lot, and to no great degree.

Okay, you can argue that the Wimbledon-U.S. Open three-peat that Federer completed in September is career-defining. True enough. But it's not a career-defining moment, and we crave the moment, not the historical record. This brings us to another facet of this tricky issue. The epic, transcendent wins are concentrated narratives, not serial ones. Does that diminish the extended or serial ones? Absolutely not. But they are a thing unto themselves; serial moments are entries in a ledger; concentrated ones are hot, soaring human moments.

Sampras had three other extraordinary moments. One of them was that tear-stained, back-from-two-sets-down victory over Jim Courier in the 1995 Australian Open quarterfinals (Sampras's coach, Tim Gullikson, had been diagnosed with brain cancer and had to leave the tournament just days earlier). Then there was his great drive to secure the year-end No. 1 ranking for a fifth straight year in 1998. He literally dragged himself through the final week of indoor season, chasing the points to hold the top spot; the pressure and fatigue got so bad that his hair was falling out in clumps near the end of the push.

And then there was the 1995 Davis Cup finals triumph in Moscow, on red clay, where Sampras won his two singles and paired with Todd Martin to take the doubles as well in the U.S. sweep (after one of those matches, Sampras had to be carried off the court, he was so exhausted).

All four of those career-defining moments were concentrated and continuous; two were very long, tight matches lifted above the nonpareil combination of the stages on which they took place and special circumstances. The Davis Cup saga took place over three days, and it transcended the norm because it was an away tie, on a surface on which Sampras usually was a patsy. And the drive for the No. 1 record was a multi-week death march that Sampras somehow survived.

Sampras was put in a position to make heroic statements on all those occasions, and in each case he seized the moment. Federer might do the same, given the opportunity, but it hasn't happened yet. One of the intriguing questions looming over this is the degree to which Federer - or any other contemporary player - will allow himself to be put in some of those situations. This is not a criticism of TMF, but if career-management trumps the desire or willingness to confront adversity, Federer will face fewer of those rare, potential warrior moments. That is, you cannot be risk averse. Those career-defining moments often are crafted in the crucible of risk.

Career-defining opportunities cannot be orchestrated, and they aren't distributed equally or predictably. What we do know is that the less inclined you are play through some tough or unappealing situations, the less chance you have of meeting your moment of destiny. Federer will get his chances by sheer force of serendipity (they do tend to be mid-to-late career chances, and TMF is just getting there). But if he plays it too safe in a loosely existential way (and that temptation must be huge, given his whopping lead over the field), they may be fewer in number.