Picking up where I left off

Well, friends, the sense of anticipation over the impending Nadal-Djokovic French Open 2013 semifinal clash has brought to my mind the last entry I made to this little weblog, nearly one year ago, wherein I facetiously proffered the notion that Novak Djokovic (then in the midst of what looked like an unthinkable comeback from two sets and a break down to potentially defeat Nadal in the 2012 final) might be dabbling in some form of sorcery or another to render himself immune to defeat in Majors, no matter how dire a deficit he might face. The events to follow, which saw Nadal reassert his dominance on the red clay and thwart Djokovic's French Open title hopes for at least another year, would seem to have disproven that hypothesis. The fact remains, though, that for a little over a set, Djokovic clearly demonstrated the potential to outplay Nadal even in the Spaniard's greatest stronghold, where his results have perennially confirmed and reconfirmed a dominance as thorough as any man has ever maintained over a single Major.

Djokovic confirmed his ongoing status as a serious clay-court threat to Nadal (indeed, the one such player on the planet Earth) by decisively defeating him in the final of the Monte Carlo Masters event earlier this season, where Nadal had not lost in a decade. Adding this victory to his two previous clay-court wins over Nadal at Rome and Madrid 2011, Djokovic has now beaten the King of Clay once at every big clay-court tennis event other than the French Open, and has won three of their last six meetings on clay, as well as eight of the last 11 across all surfaces. But Nadal remains undefeated-- a perfect 4-0-- in career meetings with Djokovic at the French Open itself, and has surrendered only one (previously-noted) set through those four encounters.

The matter of who will win on this occasion thus seems very much up in the air to your author, to the point at which it is almost pointless to try to reason out or predict. The matter of who one might want to win, however, may be somewhat more effectively tackled in a blog post such as this.

Now, I am somewhat rare among enthusiastic followers of men's tennis in that I have no strong favorite among the "big four" currently at the top of the game; I like each of one of them, but am not a fanatical supporter of any, and have rooted both "for" and "against" each of them on various occasions over the years. In times now well past, I was reliably partial to Nadal and Djokovic (or anyone else, for that matter) in their Grand Slam encounters with Federer, as I hoped to see the Swiss legend's once-unshakable dominance overturned; in more recent times, I have often sided with Federer, as much out of sympathy derived from his ever-so-slowly dwindling year-in and year-out performance level as anything else. I supported Nadal to defeat Djokovic in last year's French Open final, but was thrilled to see Lukas Rosol pull his electrifying upset over Rafa come Wimbledon. I was hopeful to see Andy Murray rewarded for years of dogged persistence with a win over Federer in last year's Wimbledon final (sadly not to be), but had the opposite allegiance when they met at the Australian Open this January, at which time it felt as though Federer was now the embattled underdog struggling desperately for another shot at the big-time. I was likewise sympathetic to Murray's effort to take his first Major title against Djokovic at the US Open, but leaned more toward the Serbian's camp for the Australian title.

In sizing up a given blockbuster Grand Slam encounter, then, I often find myself trying to weight my sympathies for the coming match in accordance with a set of broader contextual criteria. "Who will be happier if he wins?" I ask myself. "Who would suffer more personally from a loss?" Most significantly, I wonder to myself whose season, and whose career, would be affected more greatly by a given result.

In this case, I feel that the match has particularly profound implications for both men on each count. On the one hand, Djokovic's inability to wrest the French Open from Nadal has, in recent times, proven the one obstacle to completing his collection of Grand Slam titles and achieving status among the very highest echelon of greats in the game; on the other, the French has served as Nadal's lone impenetrable stronghold among the Majors since Djokovic replaced him as the world's number one player two years ago, and his claim to contention for the number-one ranking, both for this season and potentially for seasons to come, thus seems potentially to be hanging in the balance. Should Djokovic defeat Nadal at the French Open, it will seem firmly established that the world's-number-one from Serbia has altogether asserted authority over his age-old rival at this stage in their careers, and it may be difficult to conceive of Nadal-- who is growing old by the standards of a hard-charging clay-courter with dodgy knees-- adding many additional Major titles to his career resume in times to come.

The implications for the 2013 season in isolation are perhaps even more stark. If Nadal should win this match and go on to successfully defend his title, then he and Djokovic will have split the two Majors contested thus far this year, and Nadal will lead the points race for the year-end number-one ranking; if Djokovic wins and proceeds to claim his first French Open championship, he will have all but cemented his status as the year's number-one overall player, having already claimed two of the four Major titles. It is for this reason above all that I feel myself sympathizing with Nadal-- if Nadal wins, we maintain a viable rivalry at the highest echelon of the game, with all of the tension and drama that accompany it; if Djokovic prevails, it should seem to all but end the rivalry for good, or at least for the remainder of 2013.

It is as though the two are playing Monopoly*, and the French Open represents Nadal's last remaining operative color lock; should Djokovic strip him even of that, his victory in the larger game is ensured. If not, the contest rolls on.

*One might have been apt to expect a Chess analogy in this portion of the post before one to the far less intellectually-respectable Monopoly, but I so happen to have participated in the latter more recently.

Novak Djokovic: Witch?

I needn't remind readers alert to the goings-on of professional tennis that Novak Djokovic is currently on the brink of becoming the first man in over 40 years to win four Majors consecutively; weather-allowing, he will in a matter of hours complete the 2012 French Open final against Rafael Nadal, and should he manage to win the two remaining sets necessary, the task will be complete.
What does need further exposition, I think, is the utterly surreal character of this situation. Within these last four Grand Slam events, Djokovic has been:

-down two-sets-to-none, and later two match points, against Roger Federer, but rallied to win 7-5 in the fifth set

-down two-sets-to-one against Andy Murray, who later had break points to serve for the match, but rallied to win 7-5 in the fifth set

-down 4-2, *30-15 in the fifth set against Rafael Nadal, but rallied to win it 7-5

-down two-sets-to-none to Andreas Seppi in the current French Open, but rallied to win in five

-down two-sets-to-one and four match points against Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the current French Open, but rallied to win in five

-down two-sets-to-none and a break against Rafael Nadal, the greatest clay-court player in history, having lost the last six consecutive games, but rallied to turn the match on its head, winning eight straight to put himself up a break in the fourth...

Now, one might rightly attribute much of this to determination, to will-power, to fighting spirit-- attributes Djokovic certainly possesses in richest abundance-- but this alone does not seem to me sufficient to account for the unprecedented set of data before us. Heart may enable you to pull off a remarkable comeback every now and again, but in a world-elite tennis match, it simply isn't all in your own hands; players on that level are capable of hitting tennis balls in such fashion that no human can return them. Generally, when one is down two sets to none and/or facing multiple match points, it is because his opponent is simply better at doing so on that particular day, and there is nothing he can do about it-- the very fact that one has fallen so desperately far behind is a strong indication that he is not capable of winning the match as things stand. This is why even a bona fide embodiment of will-power such as Lleyton Hewitt, though he has pulled off many a stunning comeback in his day, usually does not do so. Generally, when a world-elite professional tennis player, especially a Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal, leads by two sets to none or is up a break in the fifth and holds multiple match points, he is going to end the match, and there is more or less nothing his opponent can conceivably do about it.

I would say all of the above seems obvious to most any reasonable observer of the sport, easily logically deduced and empirically proven by decades of evidence. Yet it seems of late that Djokovic no longer exists within the boundaries of logic; no matter how close to defeat he is taken or how many times he is taken there, he wages a successful comeback in absolutely every instance. Other players have won or come close to winning four Majors consecutively before, but they have done so by simply dominating the rest of the field; I do not think there is anything remotely close to a precedent for doing so while winning six five-set matches, mounting three different rallies from two sets to none-- two of those against men who are themselves winners of 10 or more Major titles-- and three different rallies from breaks down in potentially or assuredly match-deciding sets, saving a total of (at least) six match points in the process. It is as though the laws of nature and of logic bend themselves into conformity with Novak Djokovic's title aspirations.

So how, precisely, is this happening? Has Djokovic struck a deal with the devil? Does he (or his parents?) call on some form of occult magic to conjure victory where it appears lost to the agency of mortals? Insofar as I am aware, there is no rule prohibiting witchcraft in tennis, but I do suppose that support for such a regulation might gather momentum in the event of the discovery that the world's number one was dabbling in such methods to maintain his edge. Take heed, Djokovic; should you somehow pull this one off, my suspicions will only be strengthened.

UPDATE: It appears Mr. Djokovic is exonerated, or at the least that Nadal's Grand Slam clay-craft trumps his witchery.

Semi-prospective predictions

As Federer and Nadal wrestle over the first set of their Australian Open semi-final- a match whose materialization is a particularly-remarkable occurrence in that it represents the first instance in which these two have been so much as drawn in the same half of a Major draw since the 2005 French Open (including the last year, during which time they were not the top two seeds, but the draws continued to yield the same Nadal/Murray and Federer/Djokovic semifinal pairings which have predominated for the last several years, arousing the suspicions of some fans)- I wish to offer a brief list of predictions for the world's top four players, and for the 2011 season as a whole:

-I expect Djokovic to win at least one Major, and possibly two, but probably not three or more as with last year. During the the Open Era of tennis (the late 1960s through present), let it be noted, Rod Laver won all four Majors in 1969, but failed to win any the following season; Jimmy Connors won three of the four Majors in 1974, but failed to win any the following season; and Rafael Nadal won three of the four Majors in 2010, but won only one the following season. Only the historically-unique Roger Federer has ever been able to replicate such a season- and great as he clearly is, I do not ultimately believe Djokovic to be another Federer. Winning percentage in the mid-to-upper 80s, favorite to retain the world's-number-one ranking.

-I give Nadal better-than-50% odds at capturing another major this season, and better-than-a-one-in-three likelihood for two; he must fairly be accounted the favorite at the French Open (albeit not nearly so securely as in past seasons to my mind), and among the top three choices for each of the other Majors.

-Here, I will make a rare mildly-bold prediction and forecast a Roger Federer Major championship in 2012. It may be that the temporary momentum generated by Roger's recent winning streak is skewing my judgment, but as I expect Djokovic will probably not be able to replicate last year's superhuman standard of play, and Nadal will likely be up and down with injuries and fluctuations in form, the window appears open to me for an inspired Federer to seize the day at least once. With two-thirds' likelihood, Federer to win at least one Grand Slam title.

-Now, having all but already predicted away all four Majors between the top three, I have left little room here for Scotland's Andy Murray; however, remembering that each of the above were mere "probabilities" allowing sizable gaps, I will grant that Murray- under the tutelage of Ivan Lendl, whose career through Murray's age was strikingly similar to that of said newly-acquired protege- may finally be ready to perform at the crucial moment. This year, I allot Murray roughly a 40% likelihood of claiming a Major title, but will make an exception here and extend my forecast to give him a 60% chance at securing one sometime within the next two years. I will also state that I am on his side, inasmuch as his continual frustration over the last three-and-a-half years has earned my sympathy, and that I most earnestly hope (even as I doubt) that he can upset Djokovic tomorrow night.

A few more miscellaneous predictions:

-Raonic to reach the quarterfinals at either Wimbledon or the US Open (better than 50%)
-Roddick to return to the top 10 (better than 50%)
-Ferrer to fall from the top 5 (better than two-thirds)
-At least one "surprise" finalist to reappear in a Grand Slam (remembering that the last five Major finals have been contested exclusively by members of the big four)

Smokin' Joe

“There’s a fayun here to see you. A fayun. Awll the way from Idaho!” the secretary exclaimed in her thick Philadelphian accent. Upon hanging up the desk phone, she informed me that her boss would be down shortly, and my aunt and I took to a pair of cushioned chairs to wait. Moments later, two figures emerged from a hallway adjacent to the office in which we were situated. One of them, a dark-skinned fellow in a black cowboy hat, I recognized as Smokin’ Joe Frazier.

It was Spring Break my junior year in high school, and I had flown to Philadelphia to visit my sister, who was attending the University of Pennsylvania. From the first, I was keenly aware that these were the streets where walked that mythic pugilist of old whom I had read about, watched and imagined for so many years-- the legendary battler who entered every match with a fire in his belly, who never quit and never backed down and swarmed and hooked and worked and willed his way to victory, even when faced with bigger and more gifted foes. I wanted to stand before one of the greatest living monuments to the power of the human will. I wanted to meet the man, look in his eyes, shake his hand.

In contrast to the soft, squishy palms of we who have lead lives of comfort and privilege, Joe Frazier's hand felt like a leathery mat of sinew, hard and wiry strong. Though his career was now long behind him, his hair grizzled and his gait noticeably hobbled, I harbored no doubt that he could still have easily crumpled me in any contest of fisticuffs. The thought evidently crossed his own mind, for once we had taken adjacent seats and he had graciously signed the two boxing gloves I had brought (one was my own, the other my younger brother's- an unintentional gift, for I had mixed up our left gloves when packing for the flight), he informed me that he had a wayward son about my age (now in military school, he explained) who he used to meet in the ring every day and knock some sense into. I responded to the effect that I was sure he could still give me a good licking as well, at which time his face lit up; "Oh, you wanna fight?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. It was an offer I could not but decline.

Glimmers

It is the first round of the 2011 US Open. Andy Roddick, who has had a dismal season to date and fallen to his lowest ranking in nine years, looks to have drawn a "safe" opponent in the tenacious-but-limited Michael Russell. Roddick fairly routinely coasts through the first two sets on the back of his serve and consistent baseline play, but Russell will not go away quietly, stepping up his aggression and beginning to bully his far bigger and more powerful opponent in the rallies.

Before long, it is apparent that Russell has gotten on a roll, and the woefully-defensive Roddick does not appear ready to rise to the challenge. Russell wins the third set, and carries his momentum into the fourth, going up a break within the first five games. For a few moments, it appears to me a very real possibility that the 33-year-old Russell, who has never won a match at the US Open, will rally from two sets down to eliminate this former champion in the opening round- and, indeed, should this happen, I fear that the specter of a Roddick retirement from the ATP tour begins to look very real. Common as it may for many to rashly proclaim a top player's demise every time he suffers an upset or has a slump, this truly feels as though it would constitute the point at which one might reasonably conclude, "He's done."

The moment passes, however; Roddick manages to step up his level of play just enough to break back, and, after a laborious struggle, ekes out the fourth set 7-5 to progress to the second round. I breathe a sigh of relief. The former world-number-one goes on to deliver routine victories over young compatriot Jack Sock and an in-form Julien Benneteau in the second and third rounds respectively, assuring me, regardless of what happens next, that I may shrug and tell myself, "Well, at least he's not done." He goes a step further, however, in the Round of 16, by upsetting the in-form world's number 5 David Ferrer in impressive fashion. Having seen him escape the jaws of ruin and prove once more that he can still compete at a world-class level, I am relatively unperturbed by the trouncing a flat-and-injured Roddick takes at the hands of Nadal in the quarterfinals.

However, I must admit, if Roddick is to go further than merely competing- being "in the mix," so to speak- he must demonstrate that he is still, at this stage, capable of beating the very best. So it is, then, that we arrive at the impetus for today's post.

It was at the Basel event in 2001 that Roddick and Roger Federer, then both promising newcomers, met for the first time in the professional ranks, whereupon Federer narrowly defeated Roddick in a third-set tiebreak. Ten years and a brutally one-sided rivalry later, the two now meet again in the same round of the same tournament. Many will predict a like recurrence in outcome, but through my ever-tinted glasses, I see the hope of renewal.

UPDATE: No such hope, however, when Mr. Roddick is running a 36% first-serve percentage. Let us hope he can at least improve on that for tomorrow's match with Murray.

Andy Murray: Grand Slam Champion?

Even before he established himself within the elite tier of professional tennis, there was never any dearth of writers' (now-largely-proverbial) ink spilled nor airtime devoted toward the subject of the career prospects of young British hope Andrew Murray. This furious drumming of keyboards and wagging of tongues has only intensified during the last three years, since Murray claimed his place among the world's top five players. Undoubtedly the most giddily-optimistic prognostication flourished in the weeks and months following Murray's dramatic emergence in the summer of 2008, which saw him claim the championship at Cincinnati and reach the final of the US Open; the most vivid example of this trend to my memory came in early 2009, when the ever-flamboyant Justin Gimelstob enthusiastically proclaimed that there was "absolutely no question Andy Murray will win numerous Grand Slam titles" while covering one of the Scot's matches.

Now, I thought this prediction (and the many others like it which were floating around, to the point at which Murray was made betting favorite for the 2009 Australian Open championship) to be rather wildly jumping the gun, and history has thus far vindicated my perspective on this matter; nearly three years later, Murray has still failed to win a Grand Slam title, and the public discourse has, by and large, cooled to speculation about whether he will ever win one at all- a proposition now seen in some quarters as highly dubious. John McEnroe has announced going into the 2011 US Open that he considers this Murray's "best chance" to win a Major, as if to suggest that it may be a matter of now-or-never for the Scot.

Here, however, I will come to Murray's defense. You see, having spent a fair bit of time sifting statistics, as is my way, it appears to me that he may be, as Roger Federer once suggested, simply too good not to win a Slam. Consider:
-Aside from Andy Murray, every active player who has reached two or more Grand Slam finals has won at least one Grand Slam title (Murray has reached three).
-Aside from Andy Murray, every active player who has reached six or more Grand Slam semifinals has won at least one Grand Slam title (Murray has reached seven).
-Aside from Andy Murray, every active player who has won four or more Masters Series titles has won at least one Grand Slam title (Murray has won six).
-Aside from Andy Murray, every active player who has finished three or more consecutive seasons ranked inside the world's top four has won at least one Grand Slam title (Murray is in line for his fourth).

I do believe there are more such valid comparisons to illustrate this point, and moreover, that most of these comparisons would extend to the entire Open Era of tennis. This demonstrates first, as most are aware, that Murray is already long overdue for a Grand Slam title, and second, that Murray would stand as a truly remarkable historical outlier if he failed to claim at least one Grand Slam title at some point in his career. Now, historical outliers do, of course, exist, but they are outliers for a reason; it is seldom wise to bank on their occurrence. Murray is a healthy 24 years old, and, with continued commitment, likely has three to four more years of elite-level performance ahead of him. Bleak as things may look at a given moment, I do believe the best bet is that it is only a matter of time before Murray makes good.

Sleeping Giants

Those who have known me personally for a long while will know that boxing was once the sport which I followed with greatest passion; tennis, the overwhelming subject matter of this blog, replaced it only within the last two to three years. The driving force behind this shift was what I will call the constipation of modern professional fight game- the elites very seldom fight, and virtually never actually face one another at their best anymore. Case in point, see the way the world's top two fighters pound-for-pound, Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather, have been dancing in circles, pricing or politicking themselves out of an actual in-ring encounter.

The heavyweight division has been worst of all in this regard. It has been several years now that the Klitschko brothers have stood head-and-shoulders above the rest of the division. For understandable reasons, they refuse to fight one another, and the few potentially-interesting challengers (the likes of David Haye and Alexander Povetkin) have been acutely tentative to step in the ring with them, invariably withdrawing from proposed meetings through contractual dispute or timely injury, thus leaving only second-raters like Samuel Peter and an aging Shannon Briggs for our top guns to pick off. In the face of all this, I have grown distant and apathetic toward the modern boxing scene.

However, we are faced today with an exception to this drearying rule, as Haye, the former cruiserweight phenom who has been making waves at heavyweight of late, is set to step in the ring with Wladimir Klitschko within the hour. This is the most exciting heavyweight showdown perhaps since Lennox Lewis and older brother Vitali Klitschko squared off in 2003. Personally-obnoxious as he is, a part of me would dearly like to see Haye pull the upset and shake up the status quo.