!103509480
Okay, I get it. 2500-plus comments at that last post, and Typepad staggering beneath the load like a pack animal loaded down with ore, tells me y'all are hungry for tennis and getting thoroughly jacked up for the U.S. Open. And I'm not even back from vacation yet. . .
Reviewing the news, how about Serena Williams pulling out of he U.S. Open, Vera Zvonareva regrouping, Marcos Baghdatis re-connecting with his mojo and Roger Federer tiptoeing over dead bodies to avoid actually having to break a sweat during a typically sweltering U.S. and southern Canadian summer? I get the feeling that we're heading into uncharted territory come the final Grand Slam of the year in New York.
And what do you make of Novak Djokovic flaming out in Cincy (or is it merely "flaring," which is Djokovic's slightly disconcerting MO recently)?
Or Andy Murray having so much trouble with the heat?
Granted, it's hot. But it's usually hot during the endless tennis summer. And eight matches played in 10 days under the brutal, unforgiving summer sun surely is an assignment worthy of combat pay. But the way Murray described his travails of the past few days gives me pause. He's had a good run (I wrote a post for ESPN on this subject the other day, in which I focused on the threat he represents) but now I have to wonder. It seems like Murray has a built-in excuse should he falter in New York. Will he expects less of himself than he ought?
Roger Federer is now poised to win in Cincinnati; whether he does or not is a harbinger for the U.S. Open, simply because the deck has been so well stacked in his favor at the Western and Southern Financial Group Masters. Back-to-back wins over Baghdatis and either Mardy Fish or Andy Roddick, which is what it will take for Federer to win the title in Cincinnati, may no merit even a line-item in his Hall-of-Fame resume. He's played a grand total of just seven games enroute to yesterday's quarterfinals (a stat that must make Murray wince with envy), in which he swarmed all over Nikolay Davydenko. So if he fails to close the deal in Cincy this weekend, you'll be entitled to ask, What more could a guy ask for, in the way of greased skids?
A final and semi, which is the worst Federer could achieve in these back-to-back Masters 1000 events (Federer lost to Murray last weekend in Toronto), is by no means a poor showing. Not for anyone not named Federer. But the bottom line is that Cincinnati is Federer's tournament to lose. If he wins on Sunday, he's in control going into the U.S. Open. If he loses, all bets are off. It's as simple as that, although only an idiot would write Federer off in the last major, no matter what happens tomorrow, or Sunday.
With a win in Cincy, Federer will roll in to New York much as he has for the past five years - as the man to beat. I think Federer knows this, which makes the events of the next two days most interesting. How will he respond to the pressure?
And here's something else: Is Federer backtracking, to the point where he has some deep, unconscious urge to slough off the stress that a champion carries? Great players sometimes need to gently lower the bar of expectations, give themselves some breathing room as their lung capacity diminishes. They attain it by performing below their usual standard, and subsequently rely on inspiration, determination and the immutable given - talent - to reverse course and confound their critics. That's why, all punditry aside, you can't ever write off a proven winner, no matter how desperate the straits.
How all this plays out tells you something about a player's natural arc of career. At his peak, a dominant player is in control; beyond his peak, he's at the whim of fate, angling against increasingly poor odds for the chance to produce the hero moment. Jimmy Connors showed us how all that works, and Bjorn Borg denied us the pleasure of watching the process play out because he retired while at or near his peak. Federer is more Connors than Borg (who woulda thunk it?), but that's a subject best left for another day. . .
Enjoy the Cincy and Montreal semifinals, everyone.
-- Pete