The crowds at the O2 suggest that the event is an enormous success. But an event like this needs to transcend "local interest" if it's going to succeed at the highest level. And it seems to me that neither the media in general nor the world sports viewing audience is according the event the same degree of respect as the London fan base. In my two previous posts on the subject, I looked at some of the elements that have made the WTF a tough sell over the years.
The public seems wedded to the "four pillars" tradition, and values the Grand Slam events above all others. But the WTF, traveling under irritatingly and self-defeatingly different names and moving all around the globe like a dog trying to find the sweet spot on its cushion, has made the task of winning the hearts and minds of the sporting media and public harder for itself. Maybe that can't be changed. While nobody pooh-poohs Wimbledon or the Australian Open, Davis Cup has its detractors, and the WTF hasn't won over everyone either.
Playoffs shmayoffs. . . only majors matter, some think.
The final element in this puzzle of ill-fitting pieces is the format—the round-robin approach that, by about the third day of the event, leaves us glued to an abacus trying to figure out if a Tomas Berdych or Novak Djokovic won an adequate number of games to get to the semifinal stage. This necessary "tiebreaker" approach to qualification really dilutes the most basic concept in tennis—you win, you advance. You lose, you plop down in the player lounge and make small talk with Gavin Rossdale.
The round-robin format theoretically pits the best against the best, and nobody can duck anyone else. Nobody can complain about a bad draw, although the groups aren't always equally balanced. It sounds like the best of all worlds, except for two things: top players are not supposed to be playing each other left and right, for when every match is equally meaningful, every match is equally meaningless. When has a battle between Roger Federer and Andy Murray ever seemed so much like just another tennis match than yesterday?
I've always felt that the players know this, and so the loss of intensity and in some cases the diminished sense of occasion, is understandable. On the other hand, you still see some marvelous tennis, and are spared the disappointment of the person who bought his ticket weeks ago, hoping to see Federer, only to discover he's out of the tournament or not playing on the relevant day. So while the round-robin way is a tournament promoter's dream and a fan-friendly format, it surrenders a little of the gravitas you get in single-elimination tournaments when two top players meet, with survival on the line.
The round-robin also lacks the unpredictability and day-to-day potential for surprise and even shock of the kind that is a characteristic of almost every tournament, large or small. And because you know the schedule of the round-robin event, you eliminate the basic question: Can Berdych get by Cilic to get a shot at Rafa? Anything can happen in the course of a two-week major, and something very surprising almost always does. That just doesn't happen in a round robin, especially because through at least two rounds, everyone is pretty much guaranteed a chance to still qualify for the knockout semis.
For a while, back in the day when the WTF went by the name Grand Prix Masters and lived in New York, the field was expanded and altered to be a 16-man single-elimination event. It was a response to a genuine scandal in the 1980 event, in which Ivan Lendl appeared to put in a half-hearted effort against Jimmy Connors in his final round-robin match. The crafty, ultra-logical Lendl wanted to play Gene Mayer instead of Bjorn Borg in the semifnals (although the ploy worked well enough, Connors called Lendl a "chicken" and Borg ended up crushing Lendl in the final anyway). He was the kind of guy who, given the choice between the "smart" thing and the "right" thing, opted for the former.
I remember that I was bummed out by the switch, because the round-robin matches in Madison Garden were exceptionally competitive—you could see that most of the time, the players brought the appropriate level of intensity to their meetings. But remember, they, like the fans, were tennis starved and starting, rather than ending, the year. It was much easier for them to get motivated.
Round-robin events are easy to promote but not that easy to digest. The complicated system that determines qualifcation for the semis in many cases goes against the grain, as does the idea that you can lose a match and still end up winning the tournament. Round robins lack the clarity and definitive aspect of single elimination events, and I wonder if it wouldn't be easier on today's players if we returned to single-elimination, again.
Maybe the best reason to consider that option is the fact that this is not the Masters of yore, not the Masters of the glory years. And it's not just because that magical combination of Lendl, Borg, McEnroe, Connors and Vilas (a whole that exceeded the sum of its parts) are no longer with us. It's because the nature of the WTF has changed, in my opinion for the worse—at least in terms of this discussion.
Today, you have physically, mentally and emotionally fatigued players grinding out one final event at the end of a long, long year. And because of the "best vs. the best" format and the quality of the field, they're implicitly expected to dig deep into their reserves of stamina and motivation. I don't think they can, and in some cases probably don't want to, do it. Enough is enough, they seem to be saying, we'll do this, but don't expect miracles. . .
Regrettably, this is only apt to get worse next year, when the one-week break between Bercy and the WTF is eliminated. The development is not likely to help the drive to establish the WTF as the Ultra Major one bit.
Well, that's it for this series. I've shot my wad on the WTF, now I just think I'll sit back and enjoy the tennis, and the turkey. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
