It's a storyteller's dream: Whatever type of character you like, the first week of a Grand Slam offers it to you. Wide-eyed up-and-comer, star in free fall, underachieving sure-shot—all three were out on the grounds on a hot Tuesday at Wimbledon. Here's a look at how each of them struggled, straggled, succeeded, and failed to make the best of their particular situations.
The Falling Star
"Come on, JJ, come on," urges Jelena Jankovic's mother with a rhythmic clap.
She's sitting forward, her shoulders pressed up against the wall at the back of the north side of Court 3. Her frosted hair and glinting sunglasses make her an unmistakable presence, though it's odd to hear her using her daughter's nickname to cheer her on, like any other fan.
It's 1:00 and the sun is at its peak. The view south runs in an invisible cone from the base of tennis courts at the club to the steeple of St. Mary's Church on the hill above. In between, trees alternate with white houses, and red-double-deckers run back and forth between them. A new bus has joined them this year, a yellow double-decker sponsored by Corona and topped with a giant plastic beer bottle. It's a jarring sight.
Whatever number it is currently assigned, this court is best known as the Graveyard of Champions. It's open to the elements—gusts of wind, blinding sun, attacks of noise—but high seeds are forced to venture out here nonetheless. The combination has produced dozens of stunning upsets; yesterday James Blake lost in the first round. As Tuesday begins, it seems like it could be Jankovic's turn.
After starting the year at No. 1, she has had a disastrous 2009. Her season bottomed out last week in Eastbourne, where lost in the first round and watched her ranking slip to No. 6.
Jankovic's opponent today, Germany's Julia Georges, hits a heavier ball than she does. Her serve is strong enough to knock Jankovic a full step backward. From the first row of the press seats, it's easy to see JJ's fundamental flaw: Compared even to this journeywoman player, her shots have no heft. Her whippy strokes produce a light, pingy sound when she makes contact. When Georges gives Jankovic a short ball, she doesn't know what to do with it. Without pace coming in, she can't make it go out.
Jankovic begins to falter, and now it's her coach, Ricardo Sanchez—sitting well away from her mother—who does the urging. For anyone who thinks there is a lot of detailed instruction given during matches, here is what Sanchez says when Jankovic looks up to him after a changeover: "Go for it."
Somehow that advice doesn't help her turn things around. Early in the second set, Jankovic begins to spray balls. She's broken, and on the first point of the next game, she frames a forehand that ends up in the first row. Jankovic looks back at Sanchez. She keeps her eyes on him the entire time it takes her to cross the baseline. Typically, when she looks into the crowd, she's kvetching about an opponent's luck or a chair umpire's incompetence. This is different. This is a cold, silent, fearful stare. Every tennis player knows the look: Jankovic is beginning to panic. Sanchez doesn't say a word.
Georges sprints out to a 5-2 lead; the set is essentially over. Jankovic appears to be tanking the last game. But her shots begin to find the mark despite her intentions. She extends the set to a tiebreaker, goes up 3-0, and lofts up a lob that should be an easy putaway. Jankovic stops playing, but Georges mishits the sitter overhead long. Jankovic wins 7-0. After the last point, she turns to face her coach again. A broad smile has replaced the look of cold-eyed panic. The free fall is over for today.
