The draw for the Citi Open of 2016 is out, and the match ups that will initiate the gentleman's hand to hand combat in this "jeu de paume" are an inspiring mixture of intrigue, sporting curiosity and personal drama. Having moved the date of the tournament up on the calendar to accommodate the many players who will go to the Rio Olympics, the tournament has already suffered the consequences of a glut of competitions that have had to be adjusted for the quadrennial event. Juan Martin del Potro and the Bryan Brothers have already withdrawn, and the effects on the American duo of John Isner and Jack Sock, who suffered a shock defeat at the hands of the Croatians, remains to be seen.
Top seed John Isner (mercifully) benefits from a definite 1st round bye, and likely preferable scheduling, before taking on the winner of a match up of scrappers who will vie for the opportunity to dethrone the presumptive king. James Duckworth, the Australian grinder who unceremoniously dismissed a fatigued Ryan Harrison last year, will have another American to deal with, the altogether (overly) generous Tim Smycek, who famously offered to replay a critical point in Australia against Rafael Nadal, for no (good) reason. Smycek has excellent hands, moves like a lynx, and is (typically for an American) uber-competitive. If he can find his way past Duckworth, he will have Kei Nishikori's model of victory in last year's final to emulate, if he is to do the unthinkable and advance to the 3rd round.
Everybody's favorite Cypriot, 15th seed Marcos Baghdatis, will also have a first round bye, with a chance to face John Millman or (the current version of Paul Goldstein - a really local favorite), Denis Kudla, who hails from across the river in Arlington, and as a junior made the daily Holden Caufield subway trek to the Junior Tennis Champions Center in College Park, Maryland, on his way to place at the table of professional tennis. Although not as fantastical as that of Leon Vessels, Kudla's journey to the Citi Open is no less inspiring. He immigrated from the Ukraine as a baby and was featured in a 2010 Documentary Who's Next. In it, it was revealed the extent of his obsession with tennis. As an 11-year old, with arguable assistance from his from his architect father, designed his very own tennis center. Kudla's parents spoke no English when they escaped the the dissolution of the USSR on Denis' first birthday in 1993 - quite an enduring gift.
If Ryan Harrison can conjure up the same grit and firepower that saw him through the qualifiers into the main draw last year, he will have his hands full with Stephan Robert, a Frenchman known more for his prowess in doubles than singles. Harrison doesn't suffer fools when it comes to competitiveness, and whereas in the past he has succumbed to both the light and dark sides of that trait, but he is still (relatively) young, still has a missile launcher for a right arm, and has quite a good head to head record against many of the players in the draw. The past is not necessarily prologue, and Harrison will both take solace and caution in that truism, for if he is to become the player so many have hoped and expected him to be, there is no time better than the present. My guess is Robert will have his hands full. Either one of them will have a grinder of the first order awaiting them in the second round, in Victor Troicki. If he has recovered his vocal cords following his unseemly (albeit "technically" justified) diatribe against Damiano Torella (for which he was duly fined $10,000 for unsporting conduct), he will want to save his breath for Harrison who is unlikely to go quietly himself, into the night.
In one of the most fascinating first round encounters, one of this author's favorite players on tour, (the Emperor H)Adrian Mannarino will take his well educated hands, and nimble footwork, into battle against one of the most powerful young guns in world, Francis Tiafoe. Another DC native who also plied his trade at the JTCC, Tiafoe's opportunity came from his own immigrant father who worked there as a maintenance man. He debuted here in 2014, where he lost to Evgeny Donskoy, but anyone watching that match would have been left in no doubt as to the potential of this human power unit, who burned 100mph+ forehands so frequently that the feat began to lose its luster by the end of the match.
Assuming he has addressed his serve, some dubious shot selection and his footwork, there is hope in the nation's capital that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship with the game. The winner of this match, mercilessly faces Steve Johnson, an American gaining such a reputation as a bare-knuckle brawling competitor, that he is seeded 5th, and my darkhorse to make his first ATP final in his homeland. He is coming off his first ATP title, an unexpected, but not inexplicable victory on the plushy grass courts of the English midlands (Birmingham) over Pablo Cuevas, a 2nd round loser here last year.
With any luck, the Real Bernard Tomic will appear to make good on his opportunity lost here last year, as he smiled and joked his way to a 3rd round loss to the aforementioned (Trojan) dark horse. You never know what you're going to get in the way of competitiveness and drive from Tomic, such is the burden placed on a (still very) young man from a country with a (still very) deep tradition of tennis nobility. But I would recommend setting a reminder on your calendar to witness for yourself some of the best hands in tennis, his second round match up against the winner of the yankee doodle duel between Donald Young and 20-year old Ernesto Escobedo. Rumor has it, Escobedo's two-handed backhand is every bit as deadly as the left-handed swing of his (no relation...probably because that Ernesto Escobedo was a figment of Tom Clancy's imagination) namesake in "Clear and Present Danger". Having come through the crucible of expectations for American teenagers in the dog-eat-anything world of professional tennis, I'm sure Donald will have some wise words of advice for his opponent...after the match, that is.
(Dr.) Ivo Karlovic, the esteemed professor in the art of "making it rain", fresh off his draining victory of Gilles Mueller in Newport, will get a first round bye, no doubt sharpening the blade of his sword as he awaits the winner of the Mesomorph, Sam Groth, and the drumbeat of (Mr.) Brian Baker. Groth's mammoth recorded 163mph delivery, will serve him well, even if he winds up on the recently repainted Court 1 where last year, he hit a serve that hit the tape...and was still record at 156mph. The fencing is kind of old, so I would not recommend standing behind Baker as he attempts to return that howitzer of a serve. Having said that, Baker's return of serve is one of the strength's of his game, and gives him a fighting chance to blunt the path of one behemoth to another. Baker's most enduring and endearing quality to a tennis amateur (in the classical sense of the word) is his resourcefulness, his tennis IQ and his hands. The combination of the three make him just the kind of player others would prefer to avoid, but I'm not going to miss that encounter.
Grigor Dimitrov is seeded and will receive a bye into the second round, although he's been hard at work here on his game, including a one-hour practice session Friday against a possible second round opponent in Daniel Evans. That would be a treat for those who just can't get enough of the 1-handed backhand, and spontaneous injections of pace into otherwise cagey rallies. Of course, Evans would have to make it past Benjamin Becker, the last man to defeat Andre Agassi on the ATP tour, himself a cagey veteran who made his way through the qualifiers, and replaces Tommy Haas who, for years, was typically the oldest German(/American) in the draw. If Dimitrov can navigate his way through to the 3rd round, he may encounter a dejected Jack Sock, who will have to summon reserves of competitiveness to atone for his Davis Cup debacle against Borna Coric. Fresh and fit, Sock would have been a co-dark horse with Johnson, but as it is now, I would credit him with a herculean effort if he were to simply justify his seed.
Alexander (the Great) Zverev, who sports a hellenic flock of sea gulls under (and over) what comes across as a wreath (but is actually just a head band) is a good bet to go deep in this tournament. I'm always suspicious of last minute entrants, but he too has been here since at least Friday, practicing on that day on the stadium court with Monfils, and seems motivated to do well. Zverev would face the winner of a 1st round tete-a-tete between Dudi Sela and Taylor Fritz. While I enjoy the (altogether necessary for his survival) ingenuity and improvisation of Sela's game, I would relish a chance to see these young starlets compete for a place in the 3rd round. Fritz could overpower Sela, but would find it difficult to do the same in the next round. My money would be on Zverev who seems to have Fritz's number dating back to their junior careers.
Another potential match up, that might qualify for the circus or an NBA game, is between Kevin Anderson, the man who nearly did last year at Wimbledon, what Sam Querrey managed to do this year, and the winner of the match between Reilly Opelka and Malik Jaiziri. Assuming Opelka is able to bludgeon his way through the wily Tunisian (who had never trained with weights until this year - a testament to his immense talent, which has hopefully not been wasted in its entirety) the 2nd round encounter might be the tallest in the history of the Citi Open. Opelka, who is listed at 7'0" (which is frankly just ridiculous) won the Wimbledon Junior title last year (which was very nearly a part of an American grand slam), would actually tower over Anderson, who at 6'8" would make the total height on display 164 inches. That's a hell of a lot of leverage.
Luxembourg hero Gilles Mueller, smarting from his loss to Karlovic in the Newport Final, is rewarded for his renewal with a seeding and a bye to the 2nd round, where he will face the winner of Nishioka Yoshihito and Ivan Dodig, the doe-eyed doubles specialist who initiated the stunning reversal of fortune in the Davis Cup tie against the US in Portland, by partnering Cilic in the defeat of the Bryan Brothers. Mueller, a purveyor of one of the best lefty slice serves, which curiously appears to be most effective when placed up the "T", was the guy who stole Roddick's mojo in 2005. That same year, he also defeated Rafa Nadal in the 2nd round at Wimbledon. This should have come as no surprise to Citi Open historians, who would note that he defeated Agassi in the semi final in 2004, before ruining the marquee match up with Lleyton Hewitt in the final (who prevailed in straight sets for his one and only Citi Open title).
Benoit Paire awaits the winner of Jared Donaldson and his compatriot Vincent Millot, who may very well have the most extreme forehand grip in the world, one that would make Alberto Berasategui proud. It's so far over on the grip, one wonders if he'd be better off rotating the racquet in the same direction for both the forehand and the backhand...it'd be a shorter trip. Donaldson, yet another American teenager in the draw, has not received the kind of attention that Fritz has, but in the long run, I like his fundamentals more. His footwork is reminiscent of Steffi Graf, his backhand is compact and effective, if not aesthetically appealing, and while I would recommend a smaller take back on the forehand, and a diminished reliance on the reverse forehand from the center of the court, the way he throws his body into that stroke reminds me of Jimmy Connors at his ball-busting best. He appears to be on the verge of throwing his racquet across the net with every desperate lunge into that stroke. Having impressed many with his entertaining (for all the right reasons) encounter against Monfils at the US Open in 2014, Donaldson is yet another reason that the light at the end of the American tennis tunnel, could indeed be an approaching train of supplicants to the throne.
The aforementioned Djokovic slayer, Sam Querrey, calmly awaits another American, the result of the curious (if not unfortunate) pairing of Alex Kuznetsov and Bjorn Fratangelo. Although he is not related to Mike Fratangelo (the form coach of the Atlanta Hawks), Bjorn is only slight taller, which has made it difficult for him to make good on the potential he showed by beating Dominic Thiem for the Junior title at Roland Garros in 2011. Fortunately for him, his opponent, Kuznetsov, equally vertically challenged, may very well be even more spindly. I may pop over to see that second round match with Querrey, if nothing else, to see if Querrey could drop 10 aces in a row all over again.
(The other) Alexander (the Great) Dolgopolov awaits the winner of Victor Estrella Bourgos and Jordan Thompson. The latter is an Australian who bravely stood in the canon's mouth for 4 & 1/2 hours attempting to return the serve of Ivo Karlovic at Roland Garros this year - making the most of a wildcard earned mostly on the back of his best year to date that included his first tour level ATP match win and a Challenger title in China. He lost to Karlovic 12-10 in the fifth, but the effort was both brave and impressive - the only inches he gave to his gargantuan opponent that day were the 10 inches in height. His opponent, is a crafty Dominican who typically brings a large contingent of supporters with him, and has one of the bigger forehands on tour. However, like Ken Rosewall before him, Burgos has never seen a backhand that he didn't want to slice, and may need to figure out a way to come over one or two if he is to improve on his second round loss to the towering inferno of John Isner's flame throwing serve.
Dolgopolov, the 2012 champion (the last Olympic year) took full advantage of that depleted field, and won the biggest title of his career over a resurgent Tommy Haas (who is sadly no longer with us...at this tournament that is, he's still alive!). I've always enjoyed the sheer maniacal physicality of Dolgopolov's game, and since I don't think the long-term prospects of being able to do what he does are good (if you've seen his serve and forehand, you'll know what I mean) it's good to see him bounding about the grounds here like a Roe-Deer in the Ukraine.
Borna Coric will impress me very much if he can recover from an emotional weekend in Oregon, and justify his seeding by overcoming the winner of Sugita Yuichi and Vasek Pospisil. Pospisil was the 2014 finalist here, this despite being less known for his singles exploits than his illustrious doubles partner. 2016 has not been kind to this kind Canadian who glides about the baseline as easily as a man his size can, and this would be a nice way to start a recovery of the remainder of his season. But he'll have to get through an exceptionally competitive Yuichi, who's coming off a grass court victory over Taylor Fritz, to do it, and the popular teen ager from Croatia who will have no American fans (old enough to drink) on his side, given what he heroically did in Oregon to one Mr. Sock.
The final places in the draw go to Gael Monfils, the flamboyant Frenchman left off the Davis Cup team that went to the Czech Republic and kept the dream alive of another night in Lyon, seeded 2nd and shorn of his infamous ungainly mane of locks. With any luck, he will also be shorn of any desire to entertain at the expense of competing, and hopefully he will also do his on court interviews in English. He awaits the winner of Randy Liu, who won a Challenger title on grass in England before Wimbledon this year, is probably the 3rd most famous player in the draw to beat Andy Roddick at a major (Wimbledon in 2010), and is in all likelihood the most famous athlete outside of Chinese Taipei from Chinese Taipei, and yet another American, Austin Krajicek. It may surprise you that he plays for the Stars and Stripes, given that he is a distant cousin of 1996 Wimbledon Champion Richard Krajicek and an even more distant cousin of Michaella Krajicek (Richard's half-sister). My money's on Lu in the first round, and Monfils in the second...an inspired pick, I know.
Well, that's probably everything you'd want to know (and then some) about the Men's Draw at the Citi Open this year!
Okay, I'll take the bait - I am a tennis fan after all, and even the silly stuff gets my ears perked up like a German Shepherd. And if you're reading this, you've heard of the comment Kyrgios made on court last night during his injury driven victory over Stan Wawrinka. If you missed it, here's a link to as much of the story as you can handle - believe me. It's not the worst thing I've ever heard in the heat of a sporting battle, but as far as tennis goes, he may as well have hurled the n-word.
Don't get me wrong - he's been a right pain in the arse for a while now, and deserves the derision he's on the wrong end of, but this idea that he should be punished for a stupid locker room dig at Wawrkina (and Vekic, for that matter) strikes me as being more than a bit over the top. And this got me thinking: what is the worst thing I've ever heard on a tennis court? Depends on your definition of "the worst", I suppose. I've been watching tennis for 30+ years, and I've seen a lot - and that may be one of the cattiest things I've heard from player to player - but is it the worst? I don't know.
You be the judge...
Davis Cup 1987 - John McEnroe to a Linesman
This one may surprise you, because we've all heard the worst of the worst at Wimbledon and the US Open where McEnroe has told umpires and linesman everything from:
"You guys are the absolute pits of the world, you know that?"
to
"...this guy's an incompetent fool..."
to
"What do you want, Mr....whatever your name is...Mr. Incompetent?"
to
"You're a disgrace, and everyone here is a disgrace..."
to
"You're pathetic, you know that? You're the worst umpire I've ever seen in my life! You're never going to work another match if I have anything to say about it!"
to
"Answer my question! The question, jerk!"
...and that's just what I can post without deleting expletives(--rimshot--)!
But honestly that was peanuts compared to what he said to a linesman in Davis Cup match with Boris Becker in Hartford, Connecticut in 1987.
Earlier in Becker's career, in 1985, McEnroe had ironically been in the position of chastising a young player who had the temerity to argue line calls - just let that sink in for a second - McEnroe giving it to Becker for arguing with the officials. That day, he told Becker to "...try winning something before you start complaining." Three months later Becker won Wimbledon - McEnroe's Wimbledon to be specific, as he was at that time the two-time defending champion - so the relationship had a rough start to begin with.
On a side-bar, that probably wasn't the worst thing Becker would hear in his career - that could go to what Pat Cash said to him during their 1988 Wimbledon quarterfinal. As the two last winners of Wimbledon (Becker in 1985/1986, Cash in 1987) the match was tense from start to finish - except for one moment of levity where Cash, chasing down a drop shot, fell face forward over the net, and Becker - in jest - did the same a second later. Cash was having none of it, and as they each returned to their respective sides of the net, he muttered, loud enough for Becker to hear, "You're a fucking smart-arse Kraut." Becker paused, momentarily as if he contemplated physically assaulting him, but settled for blowing him off the court in straight sets instead.
But what McEnroe said, not to Becker, but to a linesman, that day in Hartford, during his first match against Becker, a 5 hour 22 minute back breaker for players and spectators alike, was far worse. He had already said to Germany's captain, Niki Pilic, "You shut up, Niki! God damn it! Shut up!", when the tension of the match really got the better of him...yet again. Feeling that the (largely American) line judges had been unacceptably objective in their calls, McEnroe told a black linesman who'd called a Becker ball good, "I didn't know they had black germans." The linesman had at once been insulted for his race, and had his patriotism questioned - all for doing what we Americans would say was his job that day - to dispassionately call the lines. He responded by lowering his head in anger and admirably finishing his shift.
McEnroe's said some pretty mean spirited things on a tennis court, most of which, if you asked him about it now, I'm sure he'd double down on it...assuming he remembers saying it. Bill Scanlon (who had for years been a thorn in McEnroe's side - his own personal Brad Gilbert, so to speak) claims that McEnroe, in the middle of a match in 1981 in San Francisco attempted, in a perfectly calm and rational way, to explain to Scanlon that not only did he not deserve to be on the same court as him, but that he should do everyone there a favor and lose the match because nobody wanted him to win. If it weren't so crazy, I wouldn't believe it, but believe it I do. And I'm sure that, to this day, McEnroe would double down on the sentiment. After all, who the hell was Bill Scanlon (but an NCAA champion who won six career titles and beat McEnroe at the 1983 US Open when he was the #1 player in the world, Wimbledon champion and had won the title for the third year on the trot two years two year earlier...but I digress)
But this comment to an American, I'm certain he would recant...well, maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't...but it was pretty bad.
2001 US Open, Lleyton Hewitt
For me, the greatest irony of the whole hullabaloo about this Kyrgios kid is that, of all people on the planet, the one he's turned to for guidance and mentoring is Lleyton Hewitt.
Huh?
I know it's 2015 and he's retiring this year, but has it really been that long since Hewitt was cited for doing almost exactly the same things as has drawn so much derision for his young compatriot? The list of transgressions is too long to cite every incident, so there is certainly enough fill this column with plenty to refer to "His Irascibleness". How did Hewitt irritate the tennis world?
Oh, let me count the ways:
There was his favorite expression to abuse linesman, whom he felt were, "...weak as piss..", his defamation suit against the ATP in 2003, in which he sought $1.5M in damages for being accused of (and fined for) skipping an interview. In 2005 he once drew the ire of tennis' significant gay community by calling an umpire he disagreed with, "...a poof." That was in addition to the myriad of his opponents whom he referred to as, "...arseholes...", or specifically the two Argentines whom he 1) shoulder bumped on a changeover (David Nalbandian 2005 Australian Open) and 2) whom he told to "fuck off" (Guillermo Coria) after he directed an overhead smash at Hewitt in a Davis Cup match in 2005. The Argentine Davis Cup supporters, known for their contextual xenophobia, then coined (and joyfully chanted) this cute little soccer stadium style song:
"Y que paso,
Y que paso,
Que Lleyton Hewitt se cagoooo!"
(translation: "And what happened? And what happened? Llyeton Hewitt shit himself!"
But, I would say the worst thing Hewitt ever said on a tennis court was this little delight in the second round of the US Open in 2001, where in a match against James Blake, he demanded the removal of a black linesman whom he insisted was making calls against him, and in favor of his black opponent, out of racial bias:
"Change him, change him immediately! I've only been foot faulted at one end! Look at 'im, look at 'I'm mate, and you tell me what the similarity is?"
Let's set aside the idiocy of Hewitt removing a black linesman because he was playing a black player. I mean, how would it work out if every black player wanted every white linesman removed every time he felt he was getting rooked? Let's also set aside the stupidity of actually vocalizing terrible thoughts that, if we're honest, go through everyone's head at the worst of times. You can't help what you think, but you can certainly think twice before expressing the worst of your thoughts. Is this what he'll be mentoring Kyrgios about?
I would say that the best thing that Hewitt could mentor Kyrgios about is how to apologize for one incident after another...that is, if Hewitt had ever apologized for anything...except to actual spastics after he called an umpire one in 2006. In fact, in that incident with Blake he simply feigned ignorance, and flatly denied having said anything racial - after trying to sell that mess to the press, he may as well have tried to sell them some oceanfront property in Nebraska. Maybe he sold it to Kyrgios, because for the life of me, I can't understand the logic behind being mentored by someone who was hated more than you.
Maybe Hopefully the mentoring is entirely technical, in which case I say, "Good on ye' mate!" Nobody squeezed better results out of their natural-born abilities than ol' Rusty.
Serena Williams, US Open 2009
I'm not going to lie - I wanted to love Serena Williams, I really did...honest. And if I had a shorter memory, I might have been able to get past the litany of things she's done and said that has placed her right at the top (or bottom, depending on your perspective) of my list of least favorite players on the WTA.
When she insulted Martina Hingis for a lack of formal education, I found it more than mildly ironic for someone who has a degree in nothing. When she made that hullabaloo over "The Hand", I sided with Henin, because I thought if Serena saw the hand up, she shouldn't have served, and therefore she got what she deserved: a second serve. When, after having an overhead smash rightfully directed at her feet, she glared at Maria Sharapova in their Australian Open final of 2007 and muttered "bitch", unlike the Rod Laver Arena audience, I didn't think it was funny.
But when she threatened to shove a ball down a lineswoman's throat at the 2009 US Open semi-final with Kim Clijsters and was defaulted only for a third code of conduct violation, that really took the cake. Actually I thought she got off easy, because she should have been immediately defaulted from the entire tournament, including the doubles final, which she played and won with Venus. But to me, almost as infuriating as the arrogance of her comment to the lineswoman, was the shameless attempt by her supporters to couch her outburst as simply swearing, then call the media and the USTA to task for having a double standard when men do the same - as if the issue was swearing. There's nothing I hate more than comparing two unlike things, bemoaning the unlike reactions to them, and then claiming some "ism" as a result - mostly because it distracts from actual "isms"...but I digress.
I also thought it was an act of pandering when the USTA chose to give her only a suspended fine and suspension, which actually didn't expire until the week after her 2011 US Open final, where she was again cited for code of conduct violations. The "sentence" still wasn't enforced, and I wasn't surprised that she didn't cite being black, or a woman, or the player to beat, for that bit of leniency, even though I suspect all of those contributed to it. I thought it was absurd that she had the audacity to do to Jelena Jankovic the exact same thing Justine did to her, both at the Family Circle Cup in 2013, and again in Dubai last year. It was just another in a long list of examples of entitlement that she has, in her view, "earned".
Oh well, nobody's perfect, but I've not heard anything worse on the women's side in a long time...6 years, to be exact.
Jimmy Connors, 1991 US Open
For some people, it was the greatest thing that happened to the US Open - in fact to a lot of people it still is. Just ask anyone who's made it through an interminable rain delay in Flushing Meadows, watching that match again and again, until the image of Connors hilariously neon yellow racquet is burned into your retina. This despite the likelihood that the most impressive performance was his encounter with Patrick McEnroe, who will unfortunately be remembered best (as a player, that is) for that memorable collapse, and his ATP final against older brother John in Chicago, that same year. At this time I could point out that Patrick McEnroe should be remembered for winning French Open doubles in 1989, and making the semi-final of the Australian Open in singles in 1991...but I'd digress.
Connors had been away from the game for almost the entirety of 1990, due to a wrist injury that just wouldn't go away. There were many who were prepared to write his professional obituary, and despite the fact that Connors had developed a certain cult following (with a certain late night crowd at the US Open) generally he had never really been fully appreciated in the tennis world as he is almost universally now. In the beginning of his career, Connors irritated a lot of people simply by virtue of who he was beating so mercilessly on his way to winning 3 of 4 majors in 1974. The beloved Ken Rosewall, at age 39, had never won Wimbledon, and Connors did more to cement his reputation as a ruthless competitor, by obliterating the sentimental favorite in the last throes of his career. Rosewall, for his part, was emotionally trying to etch his name on the wall, 21 years after he lost his first final there to none other than Lew Hoad.
When he did it again to Rosewall at Forest Hills, what few fans he had at the time, Connors squandered by deigning to do what anyone in his position would have - win big. The manner of the defeat was the coup de grace from which his popularity wouldn't fully recover until that fateful fortnight in 1991. It didn't help that, having been raised by women to compete with men, he had something of a chip on his shoulder, which also had him grabbing his crotch, and telling himself to take his skirt off when he felt he wasn't hitting the ball well.
Connors had made no friends by saying about those contemporaries that were less than enamored with him, "Most of these guys are windbags; if any of them wants to start some shit, I'll be ready..." back in his heyday. He once sued the fledgling ATP (having refused to join it or its boycott of Wimbledon in 1973), and its president Arthur Ashe in 1975, for the part they played in him getting banned from the 1974 French Open, which most assumed he would have won along with the calendar slam that year, had he not insisted on playing World Team Tennis. Curiously, the same fate had befallen Bjorn Borg in 1977, but somehow the derision readily directed towards Connors, was restrained when it came to his fair haired nemesis. Speaking of Borg, Connors once told an interviewer, whilst in the midst of a desperate 10 match losing streak to Borg, "I'll follow that son a bitch to the ends of the earth until I beat him again."
In 1984, while getting his ass handed to him by John McEnroe at the semi-finals at Roland Garros, Connors famously wagged his finger in McEnroe's face and told him his 8-year old son behaved better than he did, and that he should grow up and shut up. Mildly ironic to those who remembered him telling McEnroe to, "...keep your mouth shut when you're out here," in their 1980 Wimbledon semi-final. Furthermore, he endeared himself to nobody at the US Open in 1977, when he ran over to the other side of the clay court in his 4th round encounter with Corrado Berazzuti to wipe out a mark the Italian was in the process of questioning. He would go on to lose that final to Guillermo Vilas, poetically on an equally dubious call which was overturned based on a mark in the clay. Vilas is still waiting for his handshake from that match.
But 1991 was his moment, and while the world were enamored of his memorable run to the semi-final of the US Open, losing to Jim Courier, the tournament reached a kind of anti-climax when the heir apparent to his competitiveness (if not his behavior) put him out of his sweet misery before losing to Edberg in the final. Connors had played Aaron Krickstein in 4th round in Louis Armstrong stadium, where his young "friend" suffered the ignominy of being the most memorable of 5 losers to Connors that year in his run. And it was during that match, Connors uttered one of the more memorably disgraceful things ever said on a tennis court to umpire David Littlefield. To start, he took issue with an overrule that Krickstein had suborned, saying:
"Get your ass out of the chair, you're a bum - you're a bum! I'm out here playing my ass off, 39 years old, and you're doing that? Very clear, my butt, my butt, very clear! You wouldn't 'a said anything if Krickstein had gone over!"
Later, after another ball had been called long, which he didn't overrule, perhaps out of fear of getting involved unecessarily, Connors had this to say:
"Get the fuck out of here, god-damn it - you are abortion...you are an abortion! Do you know that?"
To me, that takes the cake - the worst thing a good catholic kid from St. Louis could say to an umpire, and he said it twice. Littlefield, to his credit, behaved entirely professionally, and didn't respond in kind, although it was his right to do so. He didn't even cite him for a code violation, which in my opinion was a mistake, but who would have had the courage to do so under the circumstances?
For my money, I've never heard anything worse on a tennis court.
AT THE END OF THE DAY
I think a lot worse things have been said on a tennis court than somebody slept with your girlfriend a year ago, who may or may not have been your girlfriend at the time. It's a daggy thing to say at any time...but under your breath, facing the other way, 90 feet away, I hardly think Kyrgios was saying it for Wawrinka to hear. In the worst case scenario, it was a stupid thing to say, and may get him "Penn 1" tattooed on his chest the next time he faces Wawrinka, but hardly the equal of some of the more unsavory things cited above.
A little perspective never hurts...
There aren't too many countries where tennis is king - maybe France during Roland Garros - but the pervasiveness of the game belies the white underbelly of that persistent question that just won't go away...how good of an athlete is a tennis player anyway? I'm not talking about your weekend warrior, but the real McCoy. Few would question the innate gifts, and athletic prowess of the so-called big 4, but they would not likely (and perhaps unjustly) be considered for anyone's list of the 10 most athletic people on the planet, would they? I've often wondered why. After all, most tennis players have played other sports growing up, and many had to make a choice of which sport to play professionally - Nadal, Federer and Murray all had legitimate shots at playing professional soccer, and at 6'9" John Isner could have taken a basketball scholarship, which would have surprised nobody in his native North Carolina.
But they didn't, and therein lies the rub, in my opinion. You see, in other sports, like football, you have Bo Jackson, Deion Sanders and to a lesser extent John Elway, prove without a shadow of a doubt their qualities as a professional in baseball, and the supreme athleticism of basketball players who've switched to football (like Tony Gonzales), leaves little doubt that this is a viable transition. Hell, even Michael Jordan hit .250 in the minor leagues, and he hadn't played baseball since he was a kid! Now, I have serious doubts as to whether any of these guys could ever pick up a tennis racquet with any hope of turning athletic prowess in their chosen sport, into a fighting chance in tennis - in fact, I don't think a single one of them could.
But it seems that we have, in the broad-shouldered, tatoo-sporting, super-serving, Australian behemoth Sam Groth, an answer to the question of whether tennis players could play other sports professionally, and through him, we could start to have an appreciation for the raw athleticism of tennis players. 50 long years after Ion Tiriac completed, what would today be considered, the altogether unimaginable transition from the 1964 Olympic ice-hockey team of Romania, to the 1969 Davis Cup finalist Romanian team in 1969, we have Groth.
He was a strong junior player - with his partner Andrew Kennaugh of Great Britain, he finished runner up in the 2005 Boy's doubles final to Jessie Levine and Michael Shabaz. A shoulder surgery, failed marriage and an extremely brief stint as an on court coach to his wife Jarmila Gajdosova (who famously told him that day in 2011 at Brisbane not to "...talk to me like a f---ing tourist") saw him burn out from the game and take up Australian Rules football with local second tier power house Vermont Football Club on the outskirts of Melbourne. For those of you who've never seen Australian Rules Football, it's a cross between rugby, and ultimate frisbee, played with a familiarly oblong ball, by athletes that all look like they could either win a slam dunk contest, or at the very least handle themselves if it got messy on the wrong side of town.
Physically, Groth fits in with that crowd just fine.
Upon returning to the game in 2013, he seemed to be uninformed of the changes in the game, that said serve and volley was as dead as the wood racquet, and proceeded to work his way through the challenger and ITF circuits (along the way hitting an ATP record 163 mph serve) until he made his way back into the hallowed territory of the top 100. Last year, he bludgeoned his way into the main draw at the Australian Open, just missed out on the show at Roland Garros, lost a tough 3-setter to Alexander Dolgopolov (a former champion at the Citi Open in 2012) at Wimbledon, and proceeded to make news at the US Open where he lost gallantly to Roger Federer in the second round. Along the way he captured the scalp of his compatriot Marinko Matosevic (himself a full-bodied exponent of the power game) before losing by one break in all three straight sets to the greatest player in the history of the game.
This year, his claim to fame is an unlikely and heroic performance in a Davis Cup cause that appeared entirely lost to the hugely proud and patriotic Australians, when the hopes of the nation, riding on the narrow shoulders of Thanassi Kokkinakis and Nick Kyrigos, were revived by an inspiring doubles performance from Groth, who manifests physiclally, all the grit and determination that is the hallmark of his illustrious, and retiring partner, Lleyton Hewitt. Having obliterated their unfancied rivals from Kazakhstan in the doubles, the pair were so convincing in their performance and temperament, that they usurped their younger teammates in the singles the next day and proceeded to perform a one two-combination that would have made (the Australian) Tommy Burns proud.
This year at the Citi Open, Groth took on and beat Victor Troicki in two tough sets, surprising those who observed the match from the mesh fence behind Court 1 with the frequency with which his serves in the ad court had his Serbian opponent chasing shadows looking for the point of contact in the deuce court, such was the power and spin he imposed on the ball. With deft touch at net, and good skills of anticipation, time and again he defended the net as well as most modern players defend the baseline. He served and volleyed his way to the end result he sought - to neutralize his presumed technical inferiority from the baseline with an unknown dexterity and ease with contortion at net. Along the way he showed off a forehand that at any given moment can put his opponent out of his misery with power and spin, and a backhand which, although frequently hit off the back foot, works just fine when he hits it hard enough to push his opponent behind the baseline...just where he wants him.
It is this unusual combination of girth and nimbleness, reminding this observer of the special skills and talents of a strawberry blonde wunderkind from Leimen, so frequently absent from men of considerable size and strength, that makes it unlikely that even the fittest of the fit in other sports, would necessary translate into an irresistible force in tennis. There are specific skills and capabilities that are necessary in the game, making it as unlikely that someone over 6'4" will win the games most coveted titles, as someone that same size to possess all the skills necessary to play the game the old fashioned way. Groth has many of them, but not all of them...at least not yet.
I observed Groth working mercilessly on a Spanish footwork drill, where the coach with a ball in hand, directs the player up and back, left and right in a series of movements that, if traced on the court, would have the shape of an inverted 5-point star. Never lifting himself above or beyond the crouch position of a lightweight sumo, the burning in his thighs is as painful as it is productive, and the resulting pop (or should I say "boom") in his serve is as much due to the power in his legs as it is the rotation of those coat-hanger shoulders that spread as wide as a Texas bull.
Sam Groth may not win the Citi Open, but his impact will be felt by his opponents, line judges, ball boys any ill-advised spectators who take their eye off the court when he's serving. But through his exploits, wherever they may lead, tennis may just have in Groth its athlete that creates the appreciation for the raw athletic prerequisites assumed away in other sports.
Who the hell is Louisa Chirico? Well, for starters she's a woman who's had two victories over top 50 players in the first two rounds of the Citi Open, and finds herself in the quarterfinal of the event. That wouldn't be so impressive if she herself had a pedigree to speak of - she doesn't. She's a 19-year old wild card entrant who herself is ranked 128, and has never won a tournament at the WTA tour level. Her main claim to fame was winning the French Open wild card tournament, and proclaiming that she would have liked to play Serena Williams as a reward - a bit like winning the lottery and then looking forward to paying all the taxes and fees. But Chirico is fearless and one gets the feeling that competing with the best players in the world brings a kind of satisfaction of vanity that is required for precocious success in tennis. And her prospects of doing so are greatly assisted by the paucity of tactical acumen required by her style of play - if she were a man you'd say she wins based on balls and braun - a very Spanish style of play. For a woman, I call it big babe tennis, and Chirico is definitely a big babe. Whether she can continue today against Sloan Stephens (another big babe) in the same vain, is anybody's guess. But the way she's playing, and the fact that Sloan Stephens does not have the most cerebral game in the world, I'd say her chances are 50/50.
Lleyton Hewitt said good-bye to the tournament he won in 2004 - honored as a former champion, never called to task for his racial outburst in 2001, and well received by the tennis audience with probably the most black people he'll see in an audience of US tennis fans, Hewitt returned to the Citi Open over and over again. Accustomed to the hot conditions, he would have taken advantage of the quick surface that does much to facilitate the penetration of his strokes, which have always had the deceptive quality of being deep without giving his opponent much pace to speak of to work with. This quality in the early stages of his career, before all the issues with his hip restricted his movement, allowed him to consistently pull off a kind of tennis jujitsu, where you use the power of the bigger, stronger player against himself, until he looks like a giant buffoon power lifter, tearing his own arms off as he tries to clean and jerk a new world record. And if Hewitt weren't such a reprehensible personality when on the court, with the celebrating of his opponents errors, the confrontations with his opponents, the periodic abuse of officials, one might find more beauty in the Gilbertian quality of his tactical acumen. As it stands, I'm less than enamored of either his coming or going. Thanks to Feliciano Lopez, he's going.
Speaking of going, Bernard Tomic is going just as he came - shrouded in cynicism. I watched him practice Tuesday morning, and he looked very loose and relaxed, laughing and joking with James Duckworth who had a match later (that he lost to Kei Nishikori). I found it refreshing that after all he'd been through at Wimbledon with his Tennis Australia comments, then in Miami Beach with his Dade County police comments, that he seemed to enjoy himself a thousand miles away from all that misery visited upon him(self). Perhaps the purity of his time on the court was precisely the tonic needed to resolve some of the tension that must surely have built up over the last couple of difficult months.
Then I watched his match with Steve Johnson.
Now, to say that a player isn't giving his best effort is a serious accusation, one that I myself was reluctant to sign on to. After all, to be inside a player's mind and body is impossible, and without such an invasion, knowledge is inevitably subjugated to perception, and perception leaves us only with speculation. But not all speculation is equally tenuous, and the case of Bernard Tomic against Steve Johnson, is hardly tenuous. First, I noted that throughout the match, any time Tomic went down by two points on Johnson's serve, he made almost no movements at all towards the return of serve - and on the (frequent) occasion that the serve was hit within his wingspan Tomic's effort to return was as enthusiastic as it was succesful. I note also that frequently when he had sitters from Johnson's outstretched racquet, he would hardly move his feet at all as he blew through the shot for a winner - in fact at some point he hit an overhead drop shot, such was his level of comfort, not exactly the kind of shot one would expect from an uber competitive player.
In my opinion, Tomic is the better tennis player than Steve Johnson - he uses the ball to do his bidding, whereas Johnson appears to be fighting it with every stroke. Tomic easily switches from heavy spin to short slice, to deep flat, sometimes even side-spin - Johnson hits with heavy topspin whether or not it's in his interest to do so, and frequently it isn't. Nevertheless, one other important thing Johnson always does is chase the ball - every ball - regardless of whether he had a chance to reach it. Tomic frequently watched balls go by him from a safe distance - at first it looked like he was hoping the ball would go out, but at some point I started to get the feeling that he wanted the opposite, and commensurately to be put out of his misery. One particular game in the third set that went to something like 7 deuces, Johnson hit winners up the line of 3 ad court second serve returns in a row. Tomic watched each of them with a smile. Later in the game, Johnson figured, if he was making so little effort on the second serve, why not do the same on the first. As a matter of act, Tomic went wide in the deuce court so frequently, I started to wonder why Johnson wasn't keying on that and blowing a hole through the back fence. He almost did just that for another 2 points in a row. And Tomic smiled at every one of them, like a kid in his driveway, oddly smiling at perfect strangers as they drive by.
There were moments in the match where Tomic tried to engage Johnson in one or two of his running jokes - at some point Johnson's attempted pass hit the tape and then jumped up into Tomic's chest. Tomic looked over his shoulder in search of a smile or an apology - Johnson gave him neither. Before serving the next point he gave a gallic shrug and plaintively asked, "Why mate, why?" as in, "Why did you have to do that to little old me [Mr. Beauregard]". Johnson stared back blankly - his lack of facial expression a Nishikorian indication of his irritation. Later in the match, Johnson hit a forehand close to the baseline that was called out, which Tomic disagreed, and softly pleaded with the umpire that he wanted to concede the point. The umpire shook his head, insisting that the call was right. Tomic then asked to challenge the ball, which the umpire again refused (on what grounds, I don't know, but he refused nonetheless). Not satisfied, Tomic insisted, loud enough for anyone in the stands or walking behind the court to hear, that Johnson challenge the call. "Challenge Steve, challenge!" he said, feet spread eagle still unmoved from the end of the point, another gallic shrug, and palms pointed to the sky. The crowd laughed at his insistence, as did the umpire, but Johnson, who had initially turned his back and ignored him, turned to face him and responded again with another blank stare. Was he on to Tomic's ruse, or just wary of it?
I found the exchange entirely Freudian - it seemed to me Tomic really did want the call challenged, not because he thought it was out, but because (like so many who incorrectly challenged) hoped it was in - only here I think he wanted the ball to be in so that he could be one step closer to ending the match. In fact, the very next service game Tomic burned one up the T, Johnson hit a very short reply, Tomic charged the net, feigned a drop shot, then in the style of Federer hit a slice forehand deep - the ultimate tomfoolery that makes an opponent appear to be a puppet made to humiliate himself on the end of a string. Only Tomic promptly hit the slice forehand 6 feet out and humiliated himself - well he would have been humiliated if one assumes that he gave a shit.
It went on like this mercilessly, and towards the end of the match, in one of the longer deuce games, which conveniently persisted the illusion of effort, one had the feeling that Tomic grew irritated with Johnson that he was so profligate in all the opportunities he was giving him to finish him off. Tomic didn't appear to have any trouble controlling points when he wanted to, and although Johnson was making all the right moves, like a rhythmless enthusiast, desperately learning the moves to a Michael Jackson video, it was all there but horrific to behold nonetheless. Johnson is a committed professional, and will almost certainly maximize his results - he's serious and leaves no stone unturned...he just doesn't have a lot of stones. That match took an hour longer than it should have, although he prevailed in the end. If Tomic had tried as hard to win that match, as he tried to make it look like he was trying, the match would have been done an hour earlier as well - only the result reversed.
Speaking of a match that took longer than it should have, Grigor Dimitrov won his 2nd round encounter with Guido Pella 6-4, 6-1 7-6, 6-4. He should have won the match in less than an hour, but his old junior nemesis from Argentina held firm in the first and broke him precisely when the Bulgarian should have mercilessly closed out the first set. In fact, down a break at 5-4, Guido Pella proceeded to break, hold and break again, and had the set in his hands. But the South American lefty's convoluted and thoroughly concocted forehand broke down at the absolute worst times, and he wound up losing tamely in a tie-break. The second was a repeat of the first, with Dimitrov up 5-1, with two breaks. Then Pella held, broke and held, to bring himself within one break of equalling his feat in the first. In his interview after the match, Dimitrov intimated he was experimenting with going for his shots, almost as if he wanted to test the limit of how precise he could be if it was necessary. Well, it wasn't necessary, and he found out what the other side of the limit was last night, almost to his own detriment. Fortunately for him, he's come a long way since the juniors, and he was able to reel it in when he needed to. We'll see if he was experimenting or merely missing the mark, because I have a feeling that Johnson will not give him the gifts that Guido Pella did. Although on the basis of his performance against Bernard Tomic, I may live to regret that assertion. I was impressed (as I have been since I first saw him play in 2011) with his game, but unimpressed with this result for Dimitrov. I have a feeling Johnson will also be underwhelmed, in which case Dimitrov better figure out the right side of that limit, right quick.
Speaking of right quick, boy was that a quick and terrible journey for Andy Murray, who was eliminated from both the doubles and singles in the first round from the home tournament of his clothing sponsor, Under Armour. A bit like Lewis Hamilton going out of the race on the first lap of the German Grand Prix...if there were a German Grand Prix this year (but I digress). I have to say, Murray made an effort of it - he just came up against that terrible condition that all the top players fear. A guy who has a lot of tools in his kit, but is consistently inconsistent, just happens to put together the entirety of his arsenal...just for you. Gabashvili was hitting first serves consistently at or just below the 130 mark, which is unusual for him. Combined with a mammoth forehand, and a backhand that easily switched from cross-court to up the line, he presented the kind of problems that are normally reserved for only the best opponents Murray will face.
After going down an early break in the first, Murray found his way back to 4-4, then proceed to get broken for the set after some profligate serving and unforced errors trying to do the exact opposite of what got him back in the set. Namely, rather than daring the Georgian to see who would outlast whom in the cross court rallies, he attempted twice to change direction on the backhand up the line, which he's normally good at, but not off of the depth of Gabashvili's offerings last night. In the second, Murray settled down and did what he does best, hit harder and deeper to the same spots until he elicits a soft reply. In the ultimate game, Gabashvili was still the aggressor, and looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted down set point with long points shortened by his power up the line, eliciting a high defensive lob. Now I happened to watch Gabashvili practice overheads for about 15 minutes in his pre-match hit with Vasek Pospisil. So he would have been beside himself when he dumped his overhead 3 feet wide of the ad court sideline - he was, because before the score was called he had slammed his racquet in to the ground in disgust.
The third set was tense and the quality of tennis high. Although Gabashvili was resolute despite a calf-injury that appeared to be tempered by adrenaline, Murray was in control and served for it at 5-4. But after a couple of uncharacteristic (even for this match) unforced errors, Murray sent a backhand long and they traded holds until the tie-break. Murray went up 4-3, but wouldn't win another point after that. He again reminded anyone who would listen that it was his first hard court tournament since March, but that doesn't explain the loss, which was the result of Gabashvili playing exceptionally well for an exceptionally long time. Murray, who was his usual steady self, never really raised the level of his game, and it cost him the match. Here in DC, where only his reputation is at stake (and an extra 500 points is nothing to shake a stick at) it will be seen as an anomaly, but I found his entire stay here in DC to be subdued, from his interviews to his training sessions to his matches. In my mind I always found an excuse, it was hot in the presser, it was hot on court, it was a doubles match, and finally he hadn't played on hard courts since March...
Time will tell, but I have a feeling that Murray is displeased with something in his camp that hasn't come out yet. Frequently in the match, he looked over at his camp, and his answer to my question about using hawkeye data in practice in Miami this year, leads me to believe that something is amiss, of which his disappointing performance is a symptom. If it isn't resolved, like most immune responses, left untreated, will eventually kill his him - or at least his chances at the US Open.
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