It's probably safe to say that no one in the world predicted the Arnaud Clement and Rainer Schuettler quarterfinal at Wimbledon. The two veterans faced off yesterday in a match suspended, in a nice metaphor, by the lateness of the hour. 30-year-old Clement and 32-year-old Schuettler share the same career-best result: losing finalist, in both cases at the hands of Andre Agassi, at the Australian Open. Schuettler achieved this in 2003, while Clement's run occurred all the way back in 2001--he beat an 18 year-old Roger Federer on his way to the final.
The venerable duo who competed in what ESPN dubbed the "lost quarterfinal" were not the only older players to have success at this year's tournament. While Schuettler will have one semifinal spot, Marat Safin, at the advanced tennis age of 28, has already booked the other. Meanwhile, Tamarine Tanasugarn, 31, made waves by advancing to the quarterfinals before losing to Venus Williams, 28. Natalie Dechy, 29 years old and ranked No. 97, held match points against world number one Ana Ivanovic.
Even more impressive, these elder statesmen and women are winning at the expense of young players and those in their mid-career primes: Maria Sharapova, Novak Djokovic, Andy Roddick, Jelena Jankovic, and David Nalbandian all lost early in the tournament, in many cases to their elders.
Why the sudden onslaught of older players doing so well at Wimbledon? Is it a case of wisdom coming with age? Not exactly. In fact, there's a case to be made that it's just the opposite: getting better at not thinking.
The conventional theory is grass courts reward the game's best and quickest athletes, but these are not the attributes we associate with players reaching the end of their tennis lifespans. But take a closer look at the skills required for success on the grass and the situation becomes more explicable.
If claycourt tennis requires patience, grass is its true opposite, privileging lightning-fast decision making. Often the best word to describe successful play on grass is improvisational - those who can make the best of a bad bounce or a play that develops unexpectedly have the best results. Roger Federer, with his burstingly full quiver of shots, exemplifies this ability: when points require the ability to react exceedingly quickly to a developing situation, Federer usually has the answer. Court sense, they call it.
The common thread behind all of these skills is they require what Zen Buddhists would call "absence of mind." There's no time for thinking when the ball is skidding through a slick grass court, only for reacting with the unconscious and with muscle memory. Compare this ideal state of unmindfulness to the state of mind Roddick described after his loss: "It's like you want something so bad you almost squeeze too tight." And: "I think I was trying to press so much, even from practice, just trying to get to a level where I thought I could compete for this title."
This suggests that players in their prime, who care deeply about reaching new career heights, and at the very least maintaining their status, are paradoxically in the wrong state of mind to achieve those goals. They very possibly care too much. Meanwhile, older players who have come to terms with their accomplishments are more able to let go and simply... play tennis.
Consider how Tanasugarn explained her run: "[My goal was always] to be in the quarterfinals, and, uhm, I didn't make it. I was very kind of disappointed that I didn't... because I made so many years in fourth round. This year it's the only year that I didn't, you know, really want to go, not really want, means I just concentrate on my games. I didn't really, I said earlier that I'm happy, you know, to be in fourth round or even be in the quarterfinal. So whatever rounds, I'm happy. So, you know, I don't really have to, like, disappointed if I lose today."
Venus Williams is a classic example of the advantages of having lived a few and ups and downs. Her history at the tournament comprises many chapters: from her early struggle to unseat Martina Hingis, through her dominance in the summers of 2000 and 2001 to the fallow period which followed, to her 2005 resurrection as a Slam champion in a brilliant final with Lindsay Davenport. Since then, her play at Wimbledon has been focused, her intensity measured evenly over the course of her matches, her emotions fully under control. At 28, she seems to lack, or perhaps know how to manage, the fear of losing that troubles many other players. She plays tennis.
Not that only veteran players have this ability. But even the younger players who achieved unusual success at Wimbledon share a certain insouciance with the older set: Alla Kudryavtseva's "I didn't like her outfit" comment after beating Sharapova comes to mind, as does Jie Zheng's unflappable attitude during her upset of Ivanovic.
It's the older players, however, who have been the story (other than the men's reigning dyad) of this year's Wimbledon. Perhaps the pressures in modern professional tennis have become such that they actually disadvantage the mid-career player on the make. The older statesmen and women, on the other hand, have had time to accept themselves. As Marat Safin put it, "Well, I'm surprised that I'm still here, you know. I'm surprised that I won two Grand Slams. The way things looks in '95 it didn't really look so great... So it's kind of -- if you look back, you're really kind of surprised with yourself. Doesn't really matter how many injuries you had. The career have been great for me. Tennis has been great."
It's this grateful attitude, shared by the veterans, that creates a late-career mental sweetspot, especially on grass, which rewards players who can get out of their own way and react to the moment. At Wimbledon, the capacity simply to enjoy tennis counts, and it seems to go hand in hand with a wise and dangerous mindlessness.
Asad Raza is a contributor to TENNIS magazine.