I got on the court with a morning-groggy 19-year-old. He plays #1 for a local Division II college. He started the warm up with, “My backhand stinks!”
“Well, we all know that, what do you want to change?”
“My other coach wants me to hit through more.”
“So.”
“I don’t know how. I can’t picture it”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, I want to give him what he wants.”
“What do you want?” I was interested.
He smacked a ball into the ground. “I want to know how to fix it. Just tell me how.”
“And deprive you of the joy of learning?”
We rallied some more and he silently watched the ball. He flowed with his forehand – whacking them with grace and speed. On the backhand side, he looked like he was corkscrewing into the ground, trying way too hard for a player at this level.
“Give me two words to describe your forehand.”
“I just swing. That’s three.”
I gave him a look. He hit a few more, took a deep teenage-breath and said, “Alright, easy and light.”
“Your forehand groundie is easy and light?” It wasn’t what I thought he’d say.
“Yeah – they are so easy to hit.”
“And your backhand is….”
He grumbled, “Stuck.”
“That’s a step up from ‘stink’?”
He smiled, “Barely.” Then he hit a few “stuck” backhands and added, “You remember Agassi’s backhand — how he floated around – everything opened up?”
“Like his new book?”
The word “floated” struck me.
“Would you hit a few as though you are on the moon with no gravity?”
“There’s gravity on the moon – but just a lot less.”
“OK. Like Agassi – hovering over the ground – playing without the appearance of resistance.”
He hit through the ball without the weight of his body restricting him. Even his “light and easy” forehand was freer.
“Did you feel the power shift?” I asked, after a few dozen shots.
“No, was it faster?”
“You don’t know?”
“No, just tell me. Was it less stuck?”
”And deprive you of the joy of learning? No way would I do that.”
“I don’t have time for joy.”
Knowing I would not tell him, he went back to the baseline to hit some more. He felt it this time: Less strain; less stuck.
“I hate to admit it,” he said after the session, “I did like being on the moon. Body and mind. I’m not sure you could have told me how to fix my backhand. It was fun to figure it out for myself.”
We walked to the gate and he asked, “Let me guess—you’re never gonna to tell me anything, are you?”
“When you’re playing on the circuit,” I started a story, “and there’s no coaching, you’ll have to figure things out for yourself. When you’re an executive in a boardroom, pitching a project for a client, you’ll not have time to call a coach, you’ll have to figure it out in the room, on your own feet, for yourself.”
He was listening, so I continued, “One of my favorite Agassi quotes, ‘Tennis is two players in an arena figuring things out.’ That’s what you did today.”
He shook his head. “You’ll never tell me anything. See you Saturday.”

****
I struggle with Agassi’s book and self-promo tour. Why whine? Why ask for compassion on national TV? Why play the victim now? You will not be forgotten. You have a place in history. Many cannot play without you in their tennis fabric. What attention do you need? What’s missing? Couldn’t you find your compassion for yourself and leave us out of the details and the equation? You now seem like a sore winner. And I think you deprive many of the joy of their imagination. Couldn’t you have left these 386 pages in your own TennisDiary?

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 1 comment }

The year’s regular season came to a rousing finish yesterday in Paris, with two of the tours brightest new stars laying out their cases for why they should have compelling seasons in 2010

Sometimes the opening point of a match can be a good road into how the match will shape itself. In Paris yesterday we very nearly got that, as Novak Djokovic came out and immediately engaged France’s Gael Monfils in a rousing battle of deep, crosscourt forehands. We saw right away what is best in each guy: Monfils defending like crazy, Djokovic pounding away with angled, paced forehands that hunted down the Frenchman’s forehand side all day long. And it foreshadowed the outcome of the match too, in that this first point was won by Djokovic. He held serve at love. Already I am thinking, this is the guy who beat Rafael Nadal 2 and 2, do you really think he’s going to let this final slip away?

The outcome wasn’t exactly etched in stone, after all, although I am sure many of us wondered if Monfils would come out and play a totally lackluster match, worn down by the brilliant play he had already displayed during the week. I have had little faith in Monfils over time. But plenty of annoyance. I can’t think of any other player who can swoon from brilliant shotmaking into patches of sheer contrariness. Maybe Safin gives him a run for the money. Even on Sunday, when Monfils played brilliantly at times, and showed tremendous fight, he could still show off his clunkers, as in one game of the match, when he served two aces, followed by two double faults.

What happened to Monfils on Sunday was that he learned how to keep playing through those weird patches, until he got the good stuff on display again, and he could keep it there more consistently. That’s what has bedeviled the Frenchman all his career, and on Sunday he showed me he is ready and able now to manage himself better on a court, and play smarter. In each set he showed he was capable of coming back after being down breaks.

But if you saw the way Djokovic dispatched Rafael Nadal in the semi-finals, one might wonder why Monfils would even want to show up. Will Djoko be the the new sheriff in town next year? I’d be ready to put money on that, if for no other reason than he was the man who beat both Roger and Rafa within the space of a week. I like the symbolism there. If he defends his year-end title well in London, I think we have to look to the Serb as the wave of the future, not Murray. Murray’s shortcomings were on painful display again this week, mostly from the passivity of his play. He let himself be undone by the schedule, and his lack of sleep the night before the semis, but as a top player you just have to find a way around things like that. Still, sleep or no sleep, I like Djokovic’s chances more in 2010. Waiting for Murray could turn out to be like Waiting for Godot.

If Djokovic is going to be crowned king next year, then I think Monfils could certainly step in as a new prince in town. He and Tsonga both will have good years next year, just judging by the way they are wrapping up their seasons. As Robbie Koenig on TTC mentioned, Monfils is now learning how to be a total matchplayer, not just an occasional great shotmaker. He showed how he can hang in rallies, massage a few balls, be patient until he knows he’s ready for the shot. He’s not so fast to pull the trigger, and that is a great thing.

This was a great match-up too in terms of the movement on display. We saw two of the taller, more athletic movers on the tour, capable of doing splits you and I can only dream of, and wince over.

In the end it was certainly a feel-good match for all involved. The French saw their man play an intelligent match, even in a losing effort. It didn’t feel like a loss, frankly. Monfils can play, and maybe next year he will show us more of that. Novak proved his game on all fronts: serving well, using the dropshot effectively, throwing in a couple of good lobs, munching on the Monfils forehand, and returning serve phenomenally well. We should mention too how well he conducted himself with the crowd, which you could sense wanted a reason (or two) to get on his case. He took pains not to antagonize them, stuck to his game plan and just went about his business.

The match deserved to end in the tiebreak it did, where both guys continued to play well, and the outcome being determined by just a point or two. Sadly, it ended with a Monfils double fault. But hey, while that was sad in the big scheme it didn’t matter. We were all entertained, and the players’ embrace at the end mirrored our embrace of them too. The score was Djokovic, 6-2, 5-7, 7-6(3).

Good stuff, guys, now on to London in a week’s time.

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 0 comments }

The Andre Agassi Open

by Nina Rota on November 14, 2009

I started writing about Andre Agassi’s new autobiography Open last week. In excerpts of the book released at the time, we learned that Andre had done crystal meth and gotten away with it and his multicolored ‘do depended on a wig. While those revelations were surprising, they didn’t change my opinion of Andre all that much. He’s always been outrageous relative to the rest of the rather staid tennis world.

But that was before I took off on a cruise to the Caribbean and found myself restricted to my bed as our ship tossed and turned and banged into waves on its circuitous path around hurricane Ida. By the time I re-emerged, new excerpts of Andre’s book had been released and now my feelings towards Andre have changed.

First, let’s credit the publisher of the book with p.r. genius for releasing excerpts with increasingly titillating revelations. Second, let’s credit Andre for being the showman he’s always been. His father really missed the boat considering his longtime employment in Las Vegas casinos. He had a performer on his hands in Andre and he diverted him into tennis instead.

This, actually, is the essence of the book. Andre has hated tennis ever since his father cobbled together a hulking ball machine that loomed over 3 year old Andre like a videogame monster. The book is nothing if not a sharp portrait of the ways we spend our lives negotiating our relationships with our parents.

According to Andre’s father, Mike Agassi, he made his son hit a million balls during the year he was 7 years old. In response, Andre figured out that hitting the ball off the frame of the racket sent the ball over the fence and gave him a short reprieve while his father retrieved the ball. When his father gave him speed before a junior nationals final, Andre figured out that keeping the match close before finally winning it would tell his father that giving him speed didn’t make that much difference and might dissuade him from doing it in the future.

Fast forward to Andre’s adult activity with crystal meth and two marriages with women who had overbearing fathers, and you can see that the process of processing our parents is a never ending trip. Steffi Graf is his current wife and her father Peter Graf is one of the few tennis fathers on earth who compares to Andre’s father in the race for overbearing tennis parent. This is amply illustrated in the book when a meeting in Las Vegas between the two fathers results in a confrontation that Andre has to break up.

I know this world on a much smaller scale. My mother treated me like Cinderella. I was the one cleaning the house and ironing my mother’s darling son’s clothes while he was out being a juvenile delinquent. I got back at her by accidentally breaking off most of the rays on her prized sun clock and outperforming her darling son in every aspect of my life.

You can feel that same kind of bitterness and jealousy in Andre’s voice. And not just towards his father. He trashes Pete Sampras for being a one-dimensional player and a bad tipper. Andre is hardly in a position to slam Pete for being one-dimensional considering how much time he spent in the middle of the baseline and the bad tipper thing is just silly.

Andre’s stated reason for writing the book is to unburden himself, but this book is just one more example of the acting out he describes in the book and that’s why he’s getting so much grief from the sports community. The tennis community wants to know why such a great champion would wound them by saying he hates tennis and always has, and the rest of the sports world is mocking Andre for being an adult who’s still crying about his father.

But the sports world is used to reading sports books not memoirs. Sports books about champions focus on adulation and overcoming odds while memoirs are often records of screwed up family relationships and people’s screwed reactions to those relationships. Memoirists know they’ll look bad.

Andre does too and I appreciate him all the more for it.
twitter.com/ninarota

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 3 comments }

Zach’s guest blogger -The Fan Child

by Zach Kleiman on November 14, 2009

Yanina Wickmayer’s Suspension Leaves Me Cold

I was already feeling a little drugged-out this week, with all the talk of Andre Agassi’s crystal meth exploits and Tim Lincecum being caught with a bag of weed while driving his Mercedes on an Oregon Freeway.

Perhaps you were too?

But those stories, while controversial, and perhaps symptoms of a larger issue (the issue being that recreational drugs are eating at the very core of our once moral and virtuous society – okay, at least it was more moral and more virtuous, right?), didn’t produce the same effect as the very harsh 1-year suspension that was handed down to Belgian 20-year-old Yanina Wickmayer.

In violating the ITF’s ultra-rigid “whereabouts rule” three times, Wickmayer has found herself in very real and exasperating situation that should have been avoided.

I am not here to bash the ITF, who enforces the policies of WADA (World Anti-Doping Agency), for they are merely standing firmly by the guidelines set forth and made available to all the players. Nor am I here to bash Wickmayer, who has captivated me with her energetic brand of tennis in rising from World No. 67 to World No. 16 in less than a year.

And maybe that is the true problem here, the true grist of my anger and frustration with all of this. It is unclear who is to blame, and it is unclear as to whether Wickmayer is an innocent being unnecessarily led off into tennis purgatory or a sneaky doper who tried to skirt the ITF’s rigid drug policy, but failed.

It is, unfortunately, one of those questions that will forever remain unanswered.

And it isn’t the only question that will remain unanswered. Here are a few more:

Why wasn’t Wickmayer given proper warning by the ITF regarding her whereabouts infractions before things had gotten to this point? In other words, is there ongoing communication taking place between player and governing body, or is there a detached sort of bureaucratic animosity that lends itself to these kind of unnecessary violations? I ask this question because Wickmayer is a young girl. She’s barely turned 20. If you’ve leafed through the copious and perhaps senselessly rigid instructions of the whereabouts policy, like I have, you can probably imagine a similar scenario existing for yourself.

Which brings me to my next question: What the hell was coach and father, Marc Wickmayer, doing during all this? Again, I don’t know the whole story, and as I mentioned earlier I probably never will, but isn’t it safe to assume that the coach and father would be making sure that his daughter didn’t accidentally commit a doping violation?

Wickmayer has expressed surprise at the suspension, and that is was not until June that she learned that her whereabouts were out of order. Since then, she says, she has gotten her act together.

According to Tennis Week’s Richard Pagliaro, a communication breakdown between Wickmayer and the ITF seems to be at the heart of the matter, just as I suspected.
Of course, there is a part of me that says everyone else complied, so why couldn’t she? I’ve heard Wickmayer’s claim that she was having password problems, but the real problem here seems to be a lack of communication between coach/father and the ITF.

So in the end, the sport loses a fiery competitor who seemed destined to make a run at the top 10 and maybe higher next year. Now it looks like she is destined for a grey period full of bad press, accusations, and the frustration of having to watch Grand Slam championships on TV – knowing full well that she should be competing in them.

I love the idea of the sport of tennis being clean, but I hate the idea of it becoming so stubborn in its mission that it takes down innocent bystanders with stray bullets made of righteousness.

Is that where we’re at now?

follow our guest writer on twitter @TheFanChild

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 0 comments }

Zach’s Guest Blogger – The Fan Child

by Zach Kleiman on November 13, 2009

Stop the presses!

Burn the manuscript!

Say it ain’t so!

After reading an excerpt from Andre Agassi’s forthcoming tell-all autobiography, I’m not sure whether to hang up my tennis shoes, snort a line of crystal meth, or make a trek to Tibet for some spiritual healing.

Okay, it’s not really that bad, I’m just kidding, but it is a little disconcerting when you read the following lines over and over: I hate tennis!

Sure, Agassi is tongue-in-cheek when he says it, and sure, it’s probably something that every single professional player has said or felt like saying at some point and time during their career, but when those three words are figured so prominently in the memoirs of one of the greatest American tennis legends to ever live, it is definitely deflating to a certain degree.

Besides that deflation (which I am currently overcoming, because I played tennis today and I’m pretty sure I loved it!), one thing that the excerpts from Agassi’s confessional manuscript has done for me is made me curious to read more. From what I’ve read so far, it’s obvious that Agassi is serious about the title of this book. He’s trying to get to the heart of his feelings about the issues that he’s faced during his life, and the people that he’s been influenced by – not to mention himself.

If first glance is any indication, this may be the closest any of us will ever get into the inner workings of a true legend of tennis. The honesty that I’ve detected so far is startling. If there ever was a sports book that I was dying to scour from cover to cover this is most certainly the one.

In other words, as great as Federer and Sampras have been on the court, there autobiographies will more than likely pale in comparison to Andre’s.

And while it took me a few minutes to realize that Andre and I are different people, and that I can go right on loving tennis with all my heart, and regretting the fact that my father didn’t feed me a million balls a year, and urge me to hit EARLIER! EARLIER!, my curiosity to read and try to understand Andre’s reasons for feeling the way he does about the sport and about his father have only grown.

The excerpts that I’ve read have depicted Andre’s father as a brute who commandeered Andre’s time and energy and never for a second considered what the little topspin-generating phenom wanted out of life. This I can identify with to a certain degree, because much of my young adult life was spent following in the footsteps of my older brother, and I always wanted desperately to strike out on a new path, no matter how well I was doing on the path that was previously forged for me. Can you relate?

I’m glad that Andre is getting to tell his story, and that now he is able to see the world through his own eyes, rather than his father’s, but I hope that the book contains a scrap or two of thanks for the man who put together one of the best human ball machines that the planet has ever known. Because however inhumane he was toward his kid, the fact of the matter was that Andre wouldn’t have been the Andre that we’ve come to know and love and worship without him. He’d be sweet and sensitive, sure, but would be be a career grand-slam holder? I doubt that.

From what I’ve read so far, Andre sounds very much like a sensitive ungrateful kid, who doesn’t get the connection between all the hell that his father put him through and all the good that he is now doing, thanks to the wonderful playing career he had. As painful and insidious as it must have been for Andre, the connection still remains. No pain no gain.

Off the top of my head I can think of about 24 billion kids who would have loved to switch fathers and for that matter, lives with him – but that is what makes this book such a must-read: There is only one Andre, whether you agree with him or not, he’s as compelling as they come.

*This is not a book review: I’ve only read the excerpts which were published in Sports Illustrated this week.
follow this guy on twitter @thefanchild

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 0 comments }

A welcome post from Krystle Lee

by Krystle on November 12, 2009

An epic, long day in Paris Bercy

It’s been a while since we’ve had a genuinely exciting day of tennis, and yesterday was it. The billing would not have suggested it, standard early round matches for the big guns, Nadal vs Almagro and Federer vs Benneteau.

I was originally more interested in the outside court, and it’s a testament to how dramatic the matches were, that I was somehow able to feel the tension in it while knowing the result of it (but not the scoreline).

Marat Safin vs Juan Martin Del Potro

It was Marat Safin’s final tour match officially, an occasion that meant something to Safin himself, not only his fans like his previous ceremonies. The tournaments beforehand had been building up to it with little ceremonies everywhere for Safin in the last month or so, but this was the real one. I found the match had more sentimental value than I thought it would. Safin is the first big name player to retire that I’ve followed since the beginning of his career, at least the first to be given a proper farewell.

I tuned in at the end of the first set, and saw Del Potro’s amazingly good winners-unforced error statistics. My first impression was that both players play relatively similarly, especially feeding the pace off each other, hard-hitting groundstrokes that would usually be characterised by clean struck shots right off the centre of the racquet in the first few strokes, then it would be more of a battle to see who could keep up.

Safin had a lot of trouble returning Del Potro’s serve but he held up his end of the bargain on serve. Typically as you’d expect Safin sprayed more off the forehand, and he tended to overplay more than Del Potro did. Somehow I think that’s what we wanted to see in Safin’s final match though – losses of concentration, glimpses of brilliance and a close, dramatic contest. For a period in the middle to end of the second set, Safin went through a good period with his backhand at one point hitting this amazingly powerful backhand down-the-line run off one of Del Potro’s shots that must have landed near the corner on the baseline.

The third set was more erratic on Safin’s part, now sensing that the end of his career was closing. And his attitude summed up much of the conflicting and confused emotions that often characterised his career. In the change of ends, he was smiling and leaned over in his chair, relaxed and enjoying the atmosphere. Then two points after the changeover, Safin’s disgusted with his effort and throws his racquet in frustration after hitting another wild forehand error.

The most touching moment in the ceremony was seeing Safin’s tribute in the form of other players, former and current. Realizing that this ceremony was just as much a celebration and form of closure for Safin, as it was for everyone else, and having that added warmth about it. It’s the sentiment, not that spectacle that counts.

Rafael Nadal vs Nicolas Almagro

The way the match was played out, this was Almagro’s match to lose. Five match points squandered and multiple leads lost in the second and third sets. Some credit must be given to Nadal’s fighting spirit, the way he saved those three match points from 0-40 down.

As a spectacle I found it in an incredibly strange match to watch. I can’t put my finger on it but it no longer looks like Nadal puts his opponents under extreme pressure when he’s playing, at least not in this match. He’s missing an element of specialness to him, that sense that he can turn difficult points around right into his favour. Almagro went all out, plenty of winners and plenty of errors, but errors didn’t seem to bother him much. In the past, players had to be a little more consistent to have success against Nadal. Think about how Youzhny, Blake and Berdych would generally be able to keep up great shotmaking point after point. And Cilic and Del Potro in recent times.

The backhand looked particularly worrying for Nadal. It was most noticeable on the big points when Almagro tightened up, and started playing more passively. Every shot went to Nadal’s backhand, and Nadal would slice it back with no penetration whatsoever, until Almagro eventually made a mistake. The commentators, Robbie Koenig and Jason Goodall have mentioned continuously that the key for overcoming Nadal is to attack his forehand. But to me, it’s a combination of hitting to the backhand first, then getting that floating ball to hit deep and hard to Nadal’s forehand.

After breaking Almagro’s spirit in the second set, surprisingly Nadal took his foot off the accelerator early in the third and Almagro was back in it. For an instant it looked like Almagro’s tiredness, turned to cramping later on would help him favourably showing a sudden improvement in shotmaking. I was somewhat confused at the end, as to how that great shotmaking suddenly turned into a poor effort the following game when Almagro was serving for the match again. He didn’t only miss shots, he missed them by several metres. Then he had his shoulders slumped and never looked like winning the match again.

Roger Federer vs Julien Benneteau

This match was the anti-thesis of the Nadal vs Almagro match, straightforward in the way the scoreline played out, but compelling in its own right. What was most impressive was the fact that Benneteau never even blinked. He never even faltered with one noticeable bad or nervous point.

It was Benneteau’s typical game red-lined. Typically solid ball-striking, defending his own side of the baseline perfectly seemingly showing no gaping holes to hit into. Whenever he ran to a shot to the open court, he looked like was huffing and puffing to get there, not to the point of tiredness, but not looking like he’d be able to recover for the next shot.

Buoyed by the support from the French crowd, everything Benneteau did was just a little bit better than usual for him – deeper shots, more energetic movement and some inspiration that helped him finish off rallies with impressive crosscourt and down-the-line backhands. What I liked the most was how well Benneteau closed off the net, which was the key to him winning the most crucial of points.

It was a big occasion for the Frenchman and he relished it. The more the match reached closer to the end, he focused more on the crowd, and chose to direct his emotions positively and outwardly. It’s one of the few times I’ve felt a shared experience, emotionally involved in a match that I didn’t expect to feel involved in. These are the kind of matches that are worth watching tennis for, those little heartwarming moments that don’t mean much in the main scheme of things but make for great viewing.

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 1 comment }

Stepping Over the Lines: Wickmayer Suspended

by patricia-davis on November 9, 2009

The most exasperating news from tennis this past week came courtesy of the WTA, and involved the suspension of Belgium’s rising new star, Yanina Wickmayer. Don’t you just hate it when one of the better feel-good stories of the year turns out to be…hhmmm, how to phrase this gently – something of a corker coming into the stretch?

We all remember 20-year-old Yanina Wickmayer’s fabulous run into the semis at the Open, losing to the eventual finalist Caroline Wozniacki, then she kept up the good play into the fall. Her lifestory was a great one: the loss of the mother early on, her dad giving up all to coach his daughter; their gamble to move to America and hope that Yanina could prove herself as a player.

She has indeed, but how on earth do you miss – not one scheduled testing – but three? Even if you’re out trekking in Nepal or shelling out big bucks for a rocket trip into space, you still need to meet your obligations as a player. And even if the life of a young player is one of the more far-flung lives available these days, you still have to show up and let the nice people jab you with a needle. Or hand you the urine cup. Whatever.

Was there a reason Yanina missed all three? I’m sure she has a few excuses lined up. But the implication is that funny stuff was going on, that she may have ingested something that would skew a lab test, so she took a hike instead. I would wager that nearly everyone who heard the news reacted as I did: that something fishy may have been going on. In fact, the first words out of my mouth were: “Oh my, she’s got the Michael Rasmussen disease.”

Michael Rasmussen was the Danish cyclist who in 2007 was on his way to nearly certain victory in the Tour de France when his team suspended him. Why? Because they found out Rasmussen had lied about his whereabouts when he missed a drug test. He had told his team he was in Mexico, when in fact someone recognized him training in Europe. Combined with several other testing sessions Rasmussen had missed, his team decided they had had enough. Goodbye Mr. Rasmussen. The CAS, to whom he appealed his two-year ban, weighed in back in January of this year that Rasmussen’s sentence was deserved.

Tennis still would have a long way to go before it could even approach the level of shenanigans that have gone on in the world of cycling. But we can probably all concur that tennis has its own little shenanigans too. One of them – Andre Agassi’s recent confession to meth use – was on display last night on “Sixty Minutes,” wherein Andre was interviewed.

When Andre’s story broke, my initial reaction was: “Oh, so that means Magnus Norman was right on the money after all.” Norman, the Swedish player who rose to Number Two in the world, released his biography a few years ago and he levelled the charge about Agassi there. He caught some grief for basically saying that Agassi had tested positive and the ATP looked the other way. Magnus must be feeling something like vindication this week.

Wickmayer is now going to catch some grief as well, a full year’s worth of it. Her compatriot, Xavier Malisse, also from Belgium, was suspended at the same time. I don’t know what Xavier’s story entails, but for Wickmayer it was the three missed dates. Assuming for the moment that maybe it was, in fact, an innocent mistake, albeit x3, then we need to look to her father. After all he is her coach/manager/advisor, and you have to wonder why and how he let this come to pass. If you can uproot your lives in Europe and gamble all on making a success in America, then surely he has the wherewithal to get his daughter to the lab on time. And she should be able to do it anyway under her own steam. The excuse Wickmayer offered up was that she had difficulty logging onto the WADA site to update her movements, as all players are required to do. Some players, Serena Williams among them, have complained about how difficult it is to always pinpoint your movements, but surely a player can plan a schedule well enough that they make at least one appearance. Wickmayer could not even do that.

So now I am looking at this tall and rangy player, whom I was starting to enjoy so much, and I am wondering how she got to be so tall and rangy. I don’t want to believe she got that way by doing things I’d rather not hear about. But we have to entertain the thought that maybe she did. Her game was lovely to look at and promising. Now we’re not going to be seeing it for at least a year. For a rising player, that could be an eternity, I only hope Yanina survives it and learns a few valuable lessons. But what a shame.

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 4 comments }

Stepping Over the Lines: Escape From Doha

by patricia-davis on November 2, 2009

The WTA Tour finally reached The End, and not a moment too soon

Last week I was aglow in anticipation of the women’s year-end championships from Doha. The field looked great, and we would get right down to some serious matches from the first day. So why then did I end up on more than one occasion feeling like I needed to stifle a yawn, or two? Somehow it didn’t quite come out right in the wash. Not because the players didn’t play well, but because the bodies just gave out. I found it hard to get wrapped up in matches when the women often looked ready to drop at any minute. And in fact some of them did. Literally in the case of Caroline Wozniacki. It may be a little hard to get caught up in matches when you sense that much vulnerability on display. You’re not cheering for a winner as much as you’re hoping nobody dies.

Was anybody in good form in Doha last week? I thought Venus and Serena looked really good in their early encounter, when the third set got very competitive and the sisters were banging balls in furious, compelling fashion. That gave me hope. Jelena Jankovic qualifying at the ninth hour was another sign I took hope from, I felt Jelena could go deep once she got her toe in the door, and she did, with a convincing win over Wozniacki, getting into the semis before Venus took her out.

I thought Vera Zvonareva would be so relieved to qualify as an alternate – and then actually get to play when Dinara Safina pulled out – that she might reward us with a good run too. Instead her first match against Wozniacki looked to be more of an embarrassment than anything else, with the first set going to the Dane 6-0. But Vera struggled back, and then both women descended into a match of dueling injuries, with Vera going down – literally – with an ankle injury, and on top of that a nosebleed. I like to think she felt better after seeing Wozniacki collapse in an awful moment on the court, her leg twitching from an obviously painful-looking cramp. Somehow they managed to finish the match, with Caroline moving on as the victor.

Oddly enough both alternates got to play here: Aggie Radwanska entered the main draw when Vera pulled out with the ankle. But don’t hold out hope for Aggie being healthy anytime soon: she’s headed for hand surgery after the season ends.

Are you having trouble keeping tabs on the medical records? Here’s a quick summary:

Dinara Safina – pulled out due to a bad back, which apparently has been hovering over her for a bit of time now. At least she walked off under her own steam.

Vera Zvonareva – a bad ankle and nosebleed hobbled her in the match with Wozniacki, but at least she finished it.

Victoria Azarenka – a strained thigh, aggravated possibly by all the banging Vicki performed upon various body parts with her racquet in sheer frustration. I liked her attitude though; she wanted to play on no matter what. Ice dripping from the ice packs, sweat from the heat, tears of frustration from Azarenka. They could have swum laps with all that liquid on court. I hope Azarenka recovers ok, I like her game, this woman generates drama.

Caroline Wozniacki – I was not watching the match at the time, but the replay later on looked really scary. Suddenly Wozniacki was grabbing at her thigh, then spinning to the ground and writhing flat on her back. It must have scared the hell out of her parents there for a moment or two. Later in the semis she added abdominal cramping to her mix against Serena and was forced to retire from the match. It’s sobering to think that these are all young women in the prime of their careers, supposedly fit and well-conditioned enough to withstand the rigors. And still they’re dropping like flies. Makes me wonder how I ever made it to 64.

By week’s end we got to where we probably should have gotten anyway – a Venus and Serena final. And again the winner was Serena, who possesses just a little more intensity and focus in the big moments. When she lashed that impossible crosscourt forehand winner on championship point, you could see from her eyes and the fistpump that she wanted this more than her sister. I wonder sometimes if Serena plays to win or rather not to lose. Sometimes she reminds me of the great Belgian cyclist Eddy Merckx, who won every race in sight – one-day events, stage races, time trials. “Cannibal Eddy” was his nickname, because he was driven to win everything. The guy just loved winning; I don’t think losing was in his vocabulary. Serena has that flavor too. She was happy to win an event other than a Grand Slam, which she had not done for a while.

Honey, you’ve been saying the rankings were screwy all year long, that you were really Number One, and now you are. You’ve made your point. Congratulations! You should still be suspended, but that’s another matter. At this point in time the WTA will probably cave on that; Serena is too much of a moneymaker on tour for the powers that be to ice her for any length of time, I’m betting.

Today Basel starts for the men, which means Daddy Federer returns. It should be a more normal week in tennis, but don’t hold your breath. Federer’s lengthy time off was in part a matter of resting up his back, so god only knows what kind of shape he arrives in. Yum, stay tuned!

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 0 comments }

Zach’s Tennis Diary – 2010 LA Open

by Zach Kleiman on October 31, 2009

del Potro and Djokovic to Play LA Tennis Open
Grand Slam Champions Commit to 2010 Event

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
October 31, 2010

LOS ANGELES – Reigning US Open champion Juan Martin del Potro and 2008 Australian Open champion Novak Djokovic, two of the top five players in the ATP World Tour rankings, have committed to play the 2010 LA Tennis Open Presented by Farmers Insurance Group which will take place July 26-August 1 at the LA Tennis Center on UCLA’s campus.

In the last 19 Grand Slam tournaments, only del Potro and Djokovic have managed to break through and claim an elusive Grand Slam title away from the stranglehold produced by the World’s top two players: Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. The LA Tennis Open is the only ATP World Tour 250 event in the United States to have at least one Grand Slam champion in its field every year of the Open Era.

“Getting commitments this early from Juan Martin and Novak is a great way for us to start preparations in earnest for the 2010 event,” Tournament Director Bob Kramer said. “Both Juan Martin and Novak have proven they can win at the highest levels of the game. We are eager to showcase that talent during our 2010 tournament.”

In his Los Angeles debut in 2008, del Potro claimed the title, which was the first of his career on hard courts. Last month the Argentine claimed his first Grand Slam title at the US Open. del Potro, who is No. 5 in the ATP World Tour rankings, will be the first reigning US Open champion to play in LA since Marat Safin played the 2001 event after winning the 2000 US Open.

The No. 3 player in the world, Djokovic will be making is debut in LA. The 2008 Australian Open champion owns 14 career singles titles, including three in 2009. The Serbian has played well in Southern California, reaching the final at Indian Wells in 2007 and winning the title in 2008.

The 2009 LA Tennis Open singles title was won by Santa Monica resident Sam Querrey, while Camarillo twins Bob and Mike Bryan won their record fifth doubles title.

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 0 comments }

FUZZED: Tour Roundup

by lexa-w-lee on October 29, 2009

Yes, the transition to WordPress has taken way too long. Somebody decides we need a new platform, assures us it’ll be smooth sailing, etc. – I have yet to see smooth. In fact, anything but. Couldn’t log in until today, I’ve been missing our conversations, all these ideas for posts would come to me, and…MUZZLED!! The only good thing about it was all the other work I got done.

I grieve for Dinara Safina and would like to say to her, “Deenie, you’re not alone in having a slump and struggling after a big year. It happened to Justine Henin, remember? She trained so hard, played to exhaustion, and retired because she was worn out and needed to do something besides tennis. She had a good rest and now she’s coming back. Gilles Simon had a great breakthrough year like you and this year’s been mostly a bust for him with fatigue and knee problems. What about Ivanovic? She’s slipped way down into the 20s and taking the rest of the year off; you’re still ranked #2 despite your problems. Chin up, girl. I know you’re better than you’ve been showing. Rest up, get away, and please, please have some FUN until you’re healed up and you really want to play again.”

In St Pete, brother Marat is still in it. Today Igor Andreev, who’s also been struggling, retired in the second set against him, and Gasquet also lost to him in straights. Before the match today, a bunch of models dressed in freakish tennis-themed garb lined up and stood around before the match. How many more of these weird ceremonies must Marat endure?

Shanghai was a few weeks ago and the crowds were bigger and more enthusiastic and yes, another thing for Marat, who lost early. The final awards ceremony was a long one, but not as excruciating as last year, when the assistant city mayor read a speech in Mandarin that lasted about ten minutes and wouldn’t stop even when people started booing her. She was one of the VIPs in the ceremony again, but didn’t get to say anything, thank goodness. I’m just glad I speak English. A good bet when an Italian reporter interviews a Russian, or a Japanese interviews a Frenchman, they’ll be speaking English.

F Lopez is also still in the running in Vienna, sporting short hair and a sort of beard he says is maybe bringing him luck. I’ve started to call him FEELIES. He is playing better late in the year, like Davydenko. Shades of Nalbandian! Today Feelies beat Kollerer, a hot-tempered, erratic Austrian who has ‘Jesus Walks With Me’ tattooed across his navel, yippee. He and Azarenka have the same racquet busting technique. It’s one thing to do it once in a long while; another to do it every match. Gets old.

The guys work harder and longer than the girls. The ATP still has a bunch of tournaments before London. Time for Federer to return and maybe Murray, but is his wrist is really ok? Davis Cup didn’t help anything because it was really just him carrying the team. I also think del Potro would like to vacation until next year. He was exhausted in Shanghai last year after Davis Cup and he may be pretty beat up in London, if he plays. But jeez, it would be super to see all the top guys together for the last show.

  • Share/Bookmark

{ 11 comments }