2016 CITI OPEN DAY 6: THE YANKS ARE COMING

Maybe it was the chronological proximity to the Olympic games, or the Davis Cup, or the Rogers Cup.  For whatever reason, the main draw of the 2016 Citi Open played host to 17 Americans.  As young as 18, as old as 31, the door seemed to be open to anyone with a navy blue passport and a forehand.  At just a hawk-eye's margin under 1/3rd of the field, it seems the only American tennis players who didn't appear for DC's premiere annual international sporting event, were the 10 names that encircle the stadium court as previous champions.  Which brings me to the subject of the Day 6 recap: there remains (for the 9th year running) a curious gap in the long tradition of American success at this event, which collides in history with the last American to win a major - one Andrew Stephen Roddick. Given the excitement surrounding the many supplicants who would gape to be his heir, both as the titlist here, and the next American world champion (with a "Y" chromosome), it begs a brief history of those yankee doodle dandies who've brought the bacon home from DC.

Now, if Donald Dell, John Harris and Steve Potts had had their way, I'm quite certain that the American they would have chosen to win the inaugural event in the nation's capital, would have been the man who's vision it was to do more than put the same complexioned asses in the seats over and over again.  After all, who but Arthur Ashe could have elicited the integrated audience that the socially conscious men behind the curtain had hoped for, and indeed achieved, in the first (and last) 5-set final in the history of the tournament in 1969.  On that day, everyone in the audience had hoped for a victory from the man born and raised 90 miles away in that other US capital (of the Confederate States of America).  His effort was herculean, albeit erratic, losing the first two advantage sets, with the second lasting 16 games.  And although he found his feet in the 3rd and penultimate sets, try as he and everyone watching did, his loosed-limbed, left handed Brazilian opponent on the day, Thomas Koch, simply would not yield the right of way.

A year later, an American champion was guaranteed, as Ashe returned to compete for the final against Cliff Richey, a bare-knuckled brawler born of Texas tennis royalty.  His sister Nancy Richey is an ITHOF inductee who won the Australian Championships in 1967, and the first French Open in 1968, to go with 3 other majors in doubles.  Ashe would gain some measure of revenge when it counted, when he beat Richey two years later in a US Open semi-final...but on that day, the stars at night shone bright for the big heart from Texas.  

The Aussies took over the next couple of years, when Rosewall and Roche (in succession) disposed of the same Marty Riessen, denying the Illinois native his place on the ring of champions at the William H. Fitzgerald Tennis Center.  So it wasn't until 1973 that Ashe finally fulfilled the promise envisioned 5 years earlier and won the title to the delight of the partisan audience.  In a replay of the first US Open final (also 5 years earlier) Ashe defeated the wily, but altogether over-matched, dutchman Tom Okker, who had made a(n almost forgotten) kind of history himself by being the first Jewish tennis player to make a major final in the Open era.  In 1974 another American son of Abraham, Harold Solomon, ascended to the top row of the annals of Citi Open history, by beating none other than 3-time champion Guillermo Vilas, who wouldn't lose another final here until 1981.

In the interim, Vilas alternated titles with Americans for 6 years (missing the 7th by losing to his professional nemesis, and elegant compatriot, Jose Luis Clerc.  Jimmy Connors, by then the most imposing player in the world, both technically and in terms of his influence on the game, took the bicentennial year title in 1976, then won a second two years later against Eddie Dibbs.  In a repeat of their memorable, but lightly attended consolation (3rd place) match in 1971, Connors still had the better of his less illustrious compatriot.  Had he entered the tournament in 1980, it’s not altogether certain that he would have won it.  Though Connors record on clay was exemplary by the standards of mere mortals, for those whose faces grace the Mount Rush(the net)more of tennis, clay was by far his worst surface managing only one major title on the slippery stuff, and that in the familiar surroundings of the West Side Tennis Club at Forest Hills - also in 1976 (over Bjorn Borg, no less, but I digress). 

The best American on clay in 1980 was Brian Gottfried, who was enjoying one of the most successful years of his career, and nobody had worked harder to earn his place in Citi Open Valhalla than him.  Gottfried was the kind of player who would (and in fact did) only take one day off from practice...the day he got married.  That year, Gottfried earned his title by holding at bay the man most Argentine tennis fans pitted against their beloved Vilas, as the fairest fuzz whacking gaucho of them all.  It would be his one and only title in Washington DC.

Although a couple of Bollitieri Academy graduates (Jimmy Arias in 1982 and 1983, Aaron Krickstein in 1984) tried their best, the title escaped American possession until Jimmy Connors, in a prodigal return, killed two bald eagles with one stone, ending his own personal 4-year title drought, and one twice that long for Americans at the Citi Open, with a victory over the talented and languid, pre-Roland Garros conquering Ecuadoran Andres Gomez.  Connors initiated an American revival, resulting in titles for the Red, White and Blue in 9 of the next 12 years.  This sequence would include all 5 of Agassi’s titles (1990, 1991, 1995, 1998, 1999), both of Michael Chang’s (1996, 1997) and Tim Mayotte's lone title in 1989, which would have been American either way because his opponent that year was Brad Gilbert.

With so many Americans enjoying their 15 minutes at the DC troth, one could have been forgiven for assuming that the trend would continue ad infinitum.  The trend was eventually proven illusory, but Roddick surprised everyone with a victory over Sjeng Shalken in 2001 for his maiden title here (and the third of his rookie year) followed by an even bigger surprise the next year when James Blake won his one and only title, over Paradorn Shrichipan, having precociously usurped Andre the Giant in the semi-final.  Unfortunately Blake’s interlude as the American standard bearer was short lived, both in the grand scheme of things and at this tournament.  Roddick would match his one-time American coach Jimmy Connors with 3 titles, his third (and last) would also spell the latest of an amazing tally of 19 titles in 45 years...four better than a third, and four shy of half. 

So who then, among the band of brothers still in the field is most likely to make their maiden title in DC #20 for the US of A?  

Well, there is the record holder for profligacy, 3-times bridesmaid John Isner, who’s professional breakthrough came at this very tournament, when Roddick last carried the flag.  That year, Tommy Haas joked that there ought to be a height limit on tennis players, after falling to the long-limbed tarheel in a 3^rd set tie-break.  Last year Isner fell to the fastest hands in the (far) east, in a gripping final against Kei Nishikori.  This year, a well earned victory over Marcos Baghdatis, a natural talent who counts his return of serve as one of his weapons, is a good sign:  that's because it seems to be the only kind of a player with a snowball's chance on a summer afternoon in DC, of beating him on that lightning quick Stadium Court.  James Duckworth, didn't benefit from any hangover from Isner's Davis Cup disappointment.  It could turn out to be a delayed reaction, and he will need all his reserves of fortitude to overcome his opponent in the quarterfinal.

Speaking of which, could Steve Johnson be the most likely to end the American drought in DC?  Already a winner at Nottingham this year, his respectable 4th round performance against Roger Federer at Wimbledon, may signal a coming of age for him.  He is (as is to be expected) older than players with similar experience on the ATP tour, but this is the first year Johnson's game is a match for his commitment to give every last drop of effort in him to his own cause.  He (very) effectively blunted the potency of Ryan Harrison's serve with a series of clever and effective chip returns to the deep recesses of the court.  

This is precisely the location of Nishikori's most effective returns last year against Isner, and I have a feeling that if he's feeling it at all in the legs, he will have neither the energy, nor the inclination to make the court smaller by serving and volleying - the only viable reply to Johnson's rather obvious, but even more effective, solution.  And as hard as it is to imagine it, his serve may be even more effective this year than last, and Isner struggled to find it then. So, this could be the Trojan man's moment, and if he can get past Isner, there aren't too many players left in the field with all tools necessary to push him back down the walls of Troy.

Then there's Sam Querey:  another quiet American who (to this day, despite all his megaton serving contemporaries) still holds the ATP record for the most consecutive aces in a single match (10 against James Blake in 2007).  Surprising some with a magnificent effort to overcome 2012 Champion Alexander Dolgopolov tonight, Querrey showed that, more than an anomaly in his summer, his victory over Djokovic at Wimbledon foretells a resurgence in his career that could lead to him winning a title here that he has sought since 2009.  To do this, he will need all the free points he can get from his serve against a man who has been putting on a serving exhibition here himself:  the flash, flamboyant Frenchman Gael Monfils, who has hit 22 aces in 2 matches.  If Monfils is taking himself seriously, he has the pedigree to douse the fire lit in Querrey.  But if that Gallic Shrug, combined with the circus shots he sometimes tries, makes another appearance, I like the chances of (the) Sam(urai) Querrey.

Finally there's Jack Sock, who, in addition to hitting a tennis ball harder than anyone ever has, is apparently running for president.  I have always been of the opinion that if you want to know who has a shot to be the best player in the world, look for the guy that's doing something that nobody else can:  Alexander (the Great) Zverev is hitting his groundstrokes at an average speed of 81 mph - 6 mph faster than anyone else at the Citi Open.  Nick Kyrgios displays Federer-ish combinations of accuracy, variety and disguise on his serve.  And Jack Sock is hitting his forehand at as much as 6300 rpm...Rafael Nadal, the former King of Spain, maxes out at 5800 (with all due respect to Federer's slice backhand that reaches 7200 rpm...but that's a very different kettle of fish).

So this is a tool in Sock's sock that is exclusive to him - it's his Excalibur, his Aegis, the ring of which he is the Lord...and boy did he put it to good use today.  Like a game of cat and mouse played by men with racquets, he used his rpm to consistently force Daniel Evans into a series of very limited choices, most of which ended with him lancing the boil of Evans' frustration with a screaming forehand winner.  The minute Evans left a shot not quite far enough into Sock's backhand corner to...well, force him to hit a backhand, Sock began ripping his forehand, really heavily and at an acute angle, into Evans' backhand.  

It was neither deep nor short, and if Evans tried to step in and come over it, the ball would jump up into his chest and he would invariably framed it.  If he moved back, the court would open like a sliced grapefruit, beckoning Sock to exploit the now gaping wound that was Evans' forehand corner.  And if Evans tried to slice it, he could get away with it a couple of times, maybe even three, but eventually the temptation to exit from that constrictive tango was too much.  He couldn't resist trying to go up the line, either an error, or a short ball would ensue, and Sock would simply put him out of his misery or start the sequence again.

It was almost sadistic:  a lesson in humility that Mr. S(p)ock can impose on his opponents like the Kobyashi Maru.  Time and again, Evans made a choice, and time again it ended in a fatal exercise in total futility.  Strangely, although Evans is not the fittest fiddle in the orchestra, he seemed to grow in efficacy as the match wore on, after very nearly losing the first set in a 20 minute bagel.  But Sock's superior movement, serve and that blood-thirsty sword of Damocles (masquerading as a forehand) he wields eventually dropped right on top of Evans' head.

I have the feeling that of all the players that US has produced in the last 10 years, Sock's game is the most likely to achieve a major title.  At the height of his powers, nobody has an answer to what he can do, which is why it is such a shame that he so rarely reaches that apex.  The likelihood of doing so over a fortnight, which would be required to drink of the immortal ambrosia reserved for his major winning American predecessors, is for the moment, remote.  But ask me if he can do it over the next 3 days, and I would argue that is hardly a bridge, over the Potomac, too far.

So, if I had to place a bet on who wins the Citi Open, I would drop a 10 euro note on Sasha "Fierce" Zverev.  But if the currency must be green, with dead presidents (perhaps poetically, given that we're 6 miles from the National Mall) I'd place it on John "the Hitman" Isner.  If (and it's a pretty big if) he can get past the Trojan dark horse, he is a better player with a better serve than Karlovic, who I think will take the racquet right out of Sock's hand in their quarterfinal, rendering his wizardry entirely moot.  Querrey is unlikely to get past Monfils, and if he does, his reward would be a date with Zverev in the semi-final, and I don't see him bringing that Chincoteague pony to heel any time soon.  

The one and only player that can take the racquet out of Zverev's hand is Isner - let's just hope he brings it in what would be his 4th final.  He already holds the record for runner-ups at the Citi Open, and I'm quite certain he doesn't want to pad it.

CITI OPEN: A COLLEGE EDUCATION...FOR TENNIS PLAYERS?

A funny thing happened to me watching the last match on the Stadium Court at the Citi Open Qualifying yesterday, something that was at once surprising and eminently pleasing.  I pulled up a chair in the press box for the encounter between Alejandro Gonzalez, the 116^th ranked Columbian, and a player I’d never heard of before, Ryan Shane.  A recent graduate of the University of Virginia, he was granted a wild card this year as the NCAA champion, a perk afforded the best collegiate player in the country both here in DC, as will be the case for him at the US Open in Flushing Meadows.  

The player in the near court had an accurate, but altogether less than impressive serve, his forehand was contrived and hitchy, and the backhand was a double-fisted offering that was flat and penetrating, but indistinct from the majority of backhands I’ll see this week.  He looked edgy and uncertain of himself, not particularly comfortable, but he seemed to be holding his own.  Dressed in a drab grey, an almost olive shirt, and black shorts, the blue topped shoes belied what was clearly an ensemble hobbled together at the last minute.  All the earmarks of an American collegian who’s probably just happy to be part of the show, and playing on the stadium court no less.

On the other side of the net was a player wearing perfectly coordinated neon yellow short, olive green shorts with neon yellow and teal trim, which flowed nicely into the teal laces of his olive green shoes – the soles of his shoes were also teal.  His forehand flowed more freely, and was far more penetrating than his opponents, his serve, flat and deceptively fast from the languid delivery, dove-tailed technically right into a marvelously fluid, deep penetrating, heavy spinning one handed backhand.  He didn't so much as shuffle from one side of the court to the other, as bounce, as though on springs, and the ease with which he positioned himself allowed him to control the center of the court repeatedly off of both wings.  I know  Latin flair when I see it, and his backhand and heavy forehand, which he hit as often from the ad as the deuce court, told me that this was obviously the Columbian.

But I got it all wrong.

It turns out that the expertly concocted (but concocted nonetheless) game was Gonzalez's (the Columbian), where the spectators were as likely to see a fist pump as they were a backhand winner up the line.  The one making the match worth watching, probing and pressing with every shot, consistently placing the ball in the right half of no man’s land, running around the backhand with aplomb and going inside in just often enough to make his inside out delivery all the more effective, was Ryan Shane, the American.

The emergence of a number of quality American players who’ve come through the ranks of collegiate tennis is nostalgic for many, harkening back to the days when the US Open champion was as likely to be a former NCAA champion as a former boys champion.  But as more money poured into the game, as a result of the exploits of the the Arthur Ashe (UCLA 1965), Jimmy Connors (UCLA 1971) and John McEnroe’s (Standford, 1978) of the world, the likelihood of a successful player on the ATP tour having played NCAA tennis diminished precipitously.  But the modern game, heavy as it is on players having their greatest success just before and just after they turn 30, stretches the horizon on the back end of one’s career, but more importantly, possibly on the front end as well. 

This means the prospect of losing out on the money available to young players who turn professional is the same as the prospect of coming into the professional game too early and burning out.   This might encourage players to seek a collegiate career, and as such, improve the quality of tennis played at that level.  And since players will be developing their games for longer before turning professional, and can have some measure of financial security (from a college education) without rushing into the pro's, we may even see players develop technical capacities that are lacking more and more in professional tennis at an alarming rate, such as serve and volley, one handed backhands, and touch and feel.  John Isner (University of Georgia), Steve Johnson (USC), Rajeev Ram (University of Illinois), are all players who made their name as top collegiate competitors.  Isner is a top 20 player, a persistent Davis Cupper and dark horse in any draw he enters, and Ram recently won the title Newport, his second professional title (not ironically coming at the same tournament where he won his first in 2009).  Their emergence suggests that the path of least resistance into the world of professional tennis (from the juniors), may not always be the most effective.

It turns out that Shane is a bit of an college tennis blue-blood, from a family that includes his older brother Justin, and younger brother Zachary, as well as fellow UVA alums who will also figure in the draw, Somdev Devaarman (a two-time champion in 2007 and 2008, who lost to Darium King in the first round of qualifying) and Treat Huey, an outstanding doubles specialist.  Unlike Devaarman, who was born and raised in India, and is only a tangential local, by virtue of his alma mater, Shane is almost as local as it gets.  He was born and raised in Fairfax Virginia, went to Jeb Stuart High school, and in all likelihood was a ball-boy here at the Citi Open for some of the players he would have faced this week.  The history of professional players who made their way to high achievement on the ATP is a long one, and while the best of the best still go straight from the juniors, Shane's unique technical symmetry, his comfort with and mastery of the subtleties of movement about the court, and that marvelous one-handed backhand he flings hither and fro like a frisbee, are a welcome development and gives hope to those of us who want to see more complete players come to the tour and play tennis a way more befitting the the awe and anticipation of tennis fans around the world. 

The breadth and depth of his game, and the force of his 6’4” frame bodes well for his future, as the professional game becomes as much a contest of athletic prowess as technical.  But he’s no slouch in the technical area either.  American coaches are encouraging young American players to hit with more and more spin off both wings, they typically have the innate advantage of having played ball throwing sports (which would give them a leg up in the muscle memory for the serve), and movement that would have been facilitated by an almost certain history of playing youth tennis on har-tru.  In 2009, Devon Britton wound up playing none other then Roger Federer in the first round, as the NCAA champion wild card recipient, so Shane's additional wild card here will do him great good.

I learned my lesson today – taking nothing for granted, and don’t assume anything about anyone you meet on the tennis court.  Professional players beware:  if you expect the guy across the net to be more nervous and less technical than you just because he played college tennis...he could just be expecting the exact same of you because you didn't.

ADDENDUM:

With egg on my face, I must admit that I neglected to include in the line up of NCAA champions at the Citi Open one Blaz Rola of Ohio State, who won the men's singles title in 2013 over Jarmere Jenkins of the University of Virginia.

LOOKING FOR THE LAST CHAMPION

We do it in all sports, but especially in tennis.  We're always looking for the last champion - a reboot of the last generation's greatest, just in a younger, better-looking package.  And we do this without taking into account changes in the game, and the very real prospect that the way to beat the best at one style of play, is to employ a different style of play.  

Those who have enjoyed Federer's reign as the greatest player in history, have pinned the latest hopes on Grigor Dimitrov, who reminds them of, and seeks to be, what they so loved about his predecessor, and what we all assumed would be the way forward.  And who among us have not assumed that because Serena Williams, when she is dominant, is so dominant that the only solution to her oppressive regime is to find a younger, stronger, faster version of herself (cue the clip of Sloane Stevens, Madison Keys et. al).  And not dissimilar to great military powers that are always fighting the last war, it is not uncommon for parents, coaches, players and pundits alike to be looking for Serena 2.0.

But has that ever been the case in the history of tennis?  Have the great champions been usurped by younger version of themselves?  Is Federer the modern version Sampras?  Aside from sharing a one-handed backhand, Federer couldn't have been more different than Sampras. Sure when Federer first came on tour he served and volleyed his way to his first Wimbledon, but never really since, and while Sampras' game was as much about raw athleticism and power, as it was about technique, Federer's game is about precision and ball control, and setting up winners with guile, rather than executing them with power.  

The courts got slower, the balls got fluffier, and suddenly the prospect of another dominant server and volleyer went the way of the do-do, and the name of the game was spin, transition from defense to offense, athleticism and stamina. Federer may have mastered this art first, but the development of the top 3 players of today, in Nadal, Djokovic and Murray, who have collectively passed him by, shows that the recipe for a successful coup is not in out-doing the best at his best, but rather to attack his technical flanks, and make the key to success something that you do better than him.

After all, did McEnroe bludgeon monotonously from the baseline to beat Borg, or did he kill him with a thousand cuts - a wide serve here, a drop volley there, and everything in between? Because Borg was so adept at moving from side to side and positioning himself so far behind the baseline, McEnroe's solution had the added advantage of using Borg's strengths against him.  When Borg ran out of solutions, he also ran out of the game. Coincidence?  Maybe.

Come to think of it, did Borg and Connors serve and volley their way past the archetypal big games of Stan Smith, John Newcombe and Arthur Ashe? Hardly.  In fact they exposed the big game for the untenable reliance on immediate domination and control of the points - so when it came time for them to build the points slowly but surely, they were hardly up to the standards of those disrespectful upstarts who simply refused to rush the net until they were good and ready.

Now, in watching the Fed Cup matches between Italy and the US this past weekend, I was surprised (but not really surprised) at how easily Madison Keys was beaten by the Argentinian (masquerading as an Italian) Camila Giorgi.  You've certainly heard of Madison Keys, tipped by many as the next best thing.  In fact Brad Gilbert went so far last year at the Australian Open as to say that she, more than any of the others, had #1 potential.  His reasoning?

1. A big first serve
2. A big forehand
3. An athletic presence
4. A steely focus

Sound familiar?  In fact, if you close your eyes and say that list three times, Serena Williams will pop into your mind like the Wicked Witch of the West.  But isn't that just fighting the last war? After all, in the last 10 years, which players have successfully challenged Serena?  Those who gape to be her heir, in every way possible, and in many ways impossible?  Or those who would attack her technical flanks and offer a different solution to the problem that so many of her paltry-by-comparison clones would present?

Justine Henin didn't attack the Williams sisters head on.  When pushed wide, she hit deep slice.  When served hard and heavy, she stepped in and took it on the rise, before the full force of their most potent stroke could do their damage.  And whereas they sought to beat her into oblivion from the baseline, she took anything short and attacked, forcing them to hit deeper, and subsequently either make more errors, or take something off of their most potent strokes, giving her just the opening she needed to put them under - again and again.

And lo and behold, we discovered that from time to time, the defense of Serena (and Venus) is not nearly as effective as their offense - good but, not great.  Of course it didn't always work - she may have lost as often as she won...maybe even more, but she managed to win 7 majors at a time when these two were seen as the two-headed dragons of tennis that would never be felled.

Now I'm not saying Camila Giorgi is necessarily the next Justine Henin - in fact Henin had far superior hand-eye coordination, more athletic ability, and greater tactical acumen than anything Giorgi has shown in her career.  But this spindly, sinewy little woman, surprisingly taller than she seems and fully adept at taking the ball early and belting the living daylights out of it, showed something this weekend that Keys has not yet in her young career.  Her sense of court positioning, whether innate (or as I suspect in her case) learned, shows us that one need not kamikaze one's way into yet another ass-whuppin' like so many of Serena's contemporaries do when faced with the quintessential big babe. There are tactical flanks to attack, without exposing one's own weaknesses.

In short, there is another way.

And this way, which I suspect is the way of the future, also exposed Madison Keys for the one thing that she currently lacks, which the Williams sisters have rarely had to, or been able to, fall back on:  a plan "B".  You see, it's all well and good to hit the ball like a ton of bricks, and as long as the only question being asked is, "How hard can you hit it", if the answer is, "harder" and harder works, you're gold.

But Keys didn't have the answer - not this weekend.  Keys is all about the power and depth of shot, and the fact that she was spinning first serve in was merely an alternate execution to the tactical directive to put her opponent under from the off.  Only Giorgi, by stepping in and taking the mickey out of the serve before it could take it out of her, asked a different question:  "What are you going to do when you can't over power me from the get-go?" Unfortunately Key's answer was to try to hit harder, and it didn't work. In fact it failed miserably. Some may put it down to a bad day - but bad days have a way of coalescing around players that challenge you technically.

Now lest you think that another player who defends better, would have easily handled Giorgi's oppressive aggression, I would remind you that she did nearly the same thing to a one-dimensional Caroline Wozniacki at the US Open last year.  Only Wozniacki's one dimension is not applying, but rather absorbing, pressure.  Her modus operandus is not to overpower you, but to let you overpower yourself, and in doing so, she also exposed the unanimity of so many big babe aspirants to the crown of biggest babe of all.  Lest we forget, with a tame first serve, and very little independent power, Wozniacki did manage to reach a major final and the #1 ranking - not too shabby. 

And do you know who happened to beat Giorgi in the next round? That's right, Roberta Vinci. Not some big babe ball bashing bafoon, but a real crafty veteran who, like Ken Rosewall, never saw a backhand she didn't want to slice, and a forehand that relies more on spin and placement than brute force. With guile, and movement, and tactics and a brain, she did to Giorgi what her younger more one-dimensional (albeit more talented) Danish forerunner could not.

Now, I don't want to get carried away, because it's just one match, and Keys presumably has a lot of miles left in the tank to get the balance right, but she does need balance.  And being one dimensional is hardly a solution when your one-dimension is the same one-dimension as every other girl on tour. It may have worked for Venus and Serena, Sharapova and Azarenka to some extent.  But if you're Madison Keys and your way forward is to be a technical and tactical clone of the Queens of this Comedy, you may also wind up joining the rest of us in looking for the next champion.

Instead of being it.