Is there a key success factor on grass, and if so, what is it? I say everyone's serve is better on grass, so that's not the key success factor - that's a myth.
It's the return.
Recently Rafael Nadal opined that "If your serve is good, you can win on grass even without playing your best." The missing context is that he was clearly explaining how he had won his first tournament on grass without much preparation and without much of a good run of form to speak of leading into the tournament. But not surprisingly it kicked off an extended debate in the blogosphere about the validity of results on grass, because of the influence of the serve.
I think what Nadal implied (without really meaning to) is that you can lose a match - any match - on grass to a player who serves exceptionally well on the day, and he's right. That's one of the reasons why Wimbledon is so hard to win: because you can so easily lose any single match if you have a bad day and your opponent (no matter who he is) serves his socks off. But unlike what was immediately interpreted as a dig at grass court tennis (something that Nadal, who has always professed his love of Wimbledon and grass court tennis, would never do), you really can't win Wimbledon with just a big serve.
That is just a myth.
The universe of players who have won Wimbledon is much smaller than other majors, and it does not necessarily reflect players with the biggest serve. Serving well (and not necessarily big) like Federer and Sampras helps a great deal, but you have to serve well, not just big. In fact, I think the reason why Federer and Sampras have won so many Wimbledons, and why the universe of champions at Wimbledon is smaller than the other majors, is precisely because the serve is not the deciding factor in whether you can win it. Take the following statistics:
# of different FO champions in the open era = 26
# of different Wimbledon champions in the open era = 20
# of different FO champions in the last 20 years = 12
# of different Wimbledon champions in the last 20 years = 8
I don't mean to denigrate Roland Garros, but just as the universe of players who have won 250's is greater than those who have won 500's which is greater than those who have won 1000's which is greater than those who have won majors, the derived conclusion is that the harder it is to win the tournament, the smaller the universe of players who actually do it. So, by this logic, that the universe of players who have won the FO is greater than the universe of players who have won Wimbledon would suggest that Wimbledon is harder to win. If you doubt this conclusion, you must accept the opposite: that the 250's are the hardest to win, and that just doesn't fly.
The reason the 500s are harder than 250s is that the field is typically stronger, because there are more points at stake, and they are more coveted. That is precisely the point of the comparison, and transitively the comparison carries through to each level of more and more coveted titles, including comparing the majors. Again, no denigration of the the tournaments that lose out in the comparison, but merely a logical conclusion from the evidence of the universe of players who've won the title.
Now, because Federer and Sampras have such great serves, the assumption is that the better your serve, the more likely you are to win Wimbledon. As such, when sizing up a player's chances, or predicting the result of a particular match, the serves are frequently compared to determine who has the advantage. But I am of the opinion that comparing serves is actually off the mark. You are mixing and matching two things - one doesn't compare serves - that is irrelevant because only one player at a time serves. One compares the serve of one to the return of the other. A player with a big serve can escape losses to other players with big serves if they return well. It is rare that players with really big serves return well, and also why players with just big serves (and little else to their game) rarely win Wimbledon.
Goran Ivanisevic is a perfect example - that man had the biggest and best serve in the history of tennis, but he won Wimbledon exactly once almost by accident. In his best chance (on paper anyway), in 1992 he lost to Andre Agassi, a player with a relatively weak serve but a relatively oustanding return (who happened to beat Boris Becker and John McEnroe along the way - not exactly slouches in the serve department). Ivanisevic's other Wimbledon final losses were to another player with a great serve - Pete Sampras. So what distinguished the two?
The return - Sampras' was a better (as well as the rest of his game - but I digress).
So a big serve gets you a chance to win a match or two here or there - but if you want to win Wimbledon, you need more than a big serve. You need the whole package including a good serve. But only the best of the best have the whole package, and as such, relatively few players have won Wimbledon as compared to say, the French Open, where a lot of players that did not have the full package, have won relatively more titles than have done so at a Wimbledon.
The logic and the stats on the universe of players who have won Wimbledon versus Roland Garros is very underrated, but it is not a matter of opinion. As for the effect of the serve on grass, it is inversely overrated - Nadal has 2 Wimbledons, Djokovic 2, Murray 1, even Federer at 7 titles...not one of them could be said to have one of the biggest serves on tour, earning a lot of "cheap" points. Roddick had a huge serve, but consistently lost to players who returned better than him (after all, so few serve better than him they must have had better returns). Ivanisevic had the biggest serve ever and he won once, each time he lost to a player, not with a better serve, but a better return.
To win at Wimbledon you need a good serve among many things, but it is not the deciding factor - the return is. Of course, even a good return (alone) isn't enough - you need the full package. You have to be able to attack and defend, you need decent volleys, but most importantly you need a good serve, because everybody gets a little help on the serve on grass. That the serve is the deciding factor to winning Wimbledon is a myth of grass court tennis that has persisted for years since the late 40's when serve and volley tennis became a full time tactical approach. There have been a lot of players with great serves who have not won Wimbledon, but almost none with bad returns, and certainly no multiple champions with a poor return of serve.
An example of this is Ivan Lendl - his biggest problem on grass wasn't his serve (which was excellent) it was his return, which he was never able to master on grass, despite years of trying. Lendl just wasn't that talented, and as a result he needed time and a certain bounce to return well, which he would get on clay or hard courts, and won many majors on those surfaces - what foiled him on grass was the return. Lendl's talent limited his return against the best players with the best serves - this is not an on/off proposition as in "either you're talented enough or not" - it does depend on the guy across the net. He had as good a serve as the players he lost to, with perhaps the exception of Becker, but he lost to a lot more players than Becker, his problem against those players he lost to was that he couldn't make any headway in his returns. His own serve was excellent. Just because your return isn't good enough against Edberg, Becker and Pat Cash, doesn't mean it won't be good enough against Jeff Tarango or Brad Gilbert.
Go down the list of players with the biggest serves on tour over the last 40 years and remove those players with good returns (Colin Dibley, Ivan Ljubicic, Steven Denton, Mark Phillipousis, Kevin Curren, Bobo Zivojinovic, Greg Rusedski, Ivo Karlovic, Roscoe Tanner, Andy Roddick) and you'll have a very long list of players with big serves who have never won Wimbledon. Now, do the reverse - list the players with the best returns in the game, remove those with great serves and you'll still have a list of players who have won Wimbledon (Agassi, Borg, Connors, Nadal, Murray, Djokovic, etc.). That's just good analysis that dispels the myth that the deciding factor in winning Wimbledon is the serve. Remember that on grass everybody's serve is a little more effective because of the surface, therefore getting an edge over the field would necessarily come from being able to neutralize that phenomenon, not from benefitting from it, which everyone does and which does not give you an edge.
Whether the return is harder to master or acquire is not relevant - it is whether having an outstanding return or an outstanding serve is the deciding factor in whether you will win Wimbledon. Nadal, Murray, Djokovic, even Federer to some extent, rarely lead the ATP in aces, 1st percentage won or even service games won - and if they do, it isn't because they get a lot of free points on the serves like the Karlovic's, Isners, Lopez's, Tsonga's, Almagro's and Raonics of the world. They may use their serve better than this lot, but that's because they're better tennis players that are able to do more with less (on the serve). What they all do better than that lot is return of serve, and they've all won Wimbledon in the last 10 years - 3 of them more than once.
Counter-intuitive, I know, but true.
In fact, I'll go you one better - I don't even think it's even critical to have a great serve, to win Wimbledon, because there a lot of players who had just good serves and still won - therefore the serve cannot be the deciding factor in whether you will win Wimbledon. What Nadal referred to with the big serves is really a reference to the risk a great player runs of being dumped out of the tournament by a guy serving his socks off for one day, but without much of an overall game. That kind of player can be a spoiler, and there are a lot of spoilers at Wimbledon, and from that I conclude (along with the universe of players argument) that that's one big reason why Wimbledon is harder to win than the other majors. Particularly on grass, where everyone's serve is helped by the surface, there is a greater risk that a spoiler that can serve you off the court in one match.
That doesn't happen as often on other surfaces because the serve doesn't have as big effect - and that is the reason why at Wimbledon a great return is more important than a great serve. Because if you can't efficiently take advantage of the few opportunities you get to break serve (attack second serves, attack poorly placed first serves, or just get your racquet on the ball a lot), you will eventually run into someone who serves you off the court. The truly great players (among other things) have great returns, so they survive the serving mine field that is grass court tennis better than the other (numerous) players with great serves, but a minimal/weak return game - hence the cream really rises to the top at Wimbledon.
Sampras rarely served above 125mph, even at his best - there were always players on tour with bigger serves, but none with better serves - he used his to great effect. And it helps to use a great serve to great effect if you have the game to back it up, which Rusedski, Roddick, Ljubicic, Phillipousis, Ivanisevic and oh so many other big serving contemporaries did not have - and a big part of that overall game to back up whatever serve you may possess (good to great) is the return of serve. Federer also rarely serves big (130+), but his placement is outstanding, and nobody uses the serve to set up their game better than Federer - of course it helps that his game is outstanding, but the point is that it's not all down to the serve.
Riddle me this - why is it that Federer was so frequently able to out ace Roddick at Wimbledon when they played? Because his return was better, not because his serve was. And if I'm not mistaken, McEnroe never hit a serve over 120mph in his career, not so of the Roscoe Tanners and Kevin Curren's of his era - their serves were huge even by modern standards. But his overall game (including the return) was superior to both of those players, and as such he had more success at Wimbledon.
In fact, two of the biggest modern servers gave us an example in 2010 that put this distinction in relief: that absurd farce of a match between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut where the 5th set had 138 games in it, where it took Isner 69 games to break Mahut's serves.
Does anyone think that any of the players who've won Wimbledon in the last 10 years would take 69 games to break anyone's serve, let alone Nicolas Mahut's? Neither Isner nor Mahut have much of a return game to speak of, and not coincidentally neither has ever done anything significant at Wimbledon other than that match. They may win matches and/or smaller tournaments with depleted fields, but when the best of the best are all there, they just can't serve their way to glory - eventually their inability to return well catches up to them. That's not the case with the best players in the world. That's why only the best players in history win Wimbledon. And that's why Wimbledon is the hardest tournament to win.
And what of poor old Andy Roddick - the argument is that had it not been for Federer, he would have won 4 Wimbledons, right? I'm not so sure about that - after all, he lost to a lot more players at Wimbledon than just Roger Federer, and that Federer is a better player is a general statement which provides no insight - the better player doesn't always win (if that were the case, the trophy could be handed out at the draw). On grass, Federer bested Roddick as frequently as he did because he neutralized his serve with a great return of serve, which Roddick could never do. That was the deciding factor between them, not either of their serves which were both outstanding.
That's not to say that Federer's serve isn't really good - just not the equal of Roddick's - better game, obviously (especially the return) - but not the serve. But let's set that debatable example aside...can the serve possibly explain his losses to Murray (2006), Gasquet (2007), Randy Lu (2010), Tipsarevic (2008), Lopez (2011), Ferrer (2012)? Maybe Ivanisevic (2001), but that entire tournament was the outlier - he also lost to Rusedski in 2002, but in both matches to equally dominant serving players, the telling factor was the return - Rusedski broke Roddick 3 times 2002 and Ivanisevic twice in 2001...but he never broke either of them. And equally telling of Rusedski - he lost in the very next round....to Xavier Malisse. Now I can tell you that there were about 25 things Malisse did better than Rusedski, but the serve wasn't one of them - and if there were every a place where Rusedski should have put his serve to use against Malisse (if it were key) it would have been at Wimbledon. But surprise, surprise, Malisse broke Rusedski 3 times to 2.
To be honest, I watched Roddick play tennis for 10 years, and I can't ever remember him serving poorly - he may have, but it would have been exceedingly rare. It was the one part of his game that never broke down. But I have seen a lot of guys get a beat on his serve in one game and the rest of his game fell apart. He himself rarely broke serve on grass, precisely because it is so hard to do.
I should also point out something that is a logical extension of the "it's the return, stupid" argument: the better players have better returns of serve precisely because it requires more talent to consistently respond well to the easiest shot in the game to produce - i.e. the serve. For a good return you need particularly good hand-eye coordination, anticipation, consistent strike zone, balance, quickness, footwork, etc.). So a relative donkey, like Lukas Rosol can beat a great player from his serve, here and there, but win the tournament, no chance - not without a great return. There are a lot more players out there with great serves than players with great returns of serve - and it's no coincidence that they tend to do most of the winning. That's because it's harder to do than serve well, and as such it is a more telling factor in who wins the tournament - particularly on grass where the serve is helped so much by the surface, and everyone looks like a world beater with their serve - by the same token, only the best of the best appear to have even decent returns on grass.
My point here is that I'm trying to dispel the myth that the serve is the key/critical/deciding success factor on grass - it's not at all, it's the return. Some would limit their agreement if (and only if ) the serves are equal, but the serves are rarely equal and frequently the player with the better serve loses to the player with the better return. Therefore, it's pretty clear that the return is the key success factor and not the serve - of course your return has to be pretty good to beat a player with a great serve, especially on grass...but that's more to my point of why so few players have what it takes to win Wimbledon.
We've all fallen prey to the blurring of the lines defining the quality of the serve - if there is such a thing as a good serve, there must logically be great serves and below average serves - let's not lump everyone into sufficient/good/great serving category, cite Wimbledon champions (none of whom have a poor serve) and then claim that the key factor is something that they share in common with 90% of professional tennis players.
A key success factor is something that distinguishes players who've had success from those who have not. To point to the serve, which a large portion of players who have not won Wimbledon, and likely will never win, isn't informative. The return, however, is very probative. I happen to think that while the serve is the easiest stroke in tennis, because it's ball in hand, the return might be the hardest (because you must use a broad range of skills to respond to the easiest stroke in the game to hit at you), and by this logic, I am of the belief that the return, particularly at Wimbledon, where even the worst serves in tennis get a lot of help, is the most important stroke to winning the tournament.
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Showing posts with label murray. Show all posts
Showing posts with label murray. Show all posts
Monday, June 29, 2015
Friday, February 21, 2014
THE CURIOUS CASE OF NICO ALMAGRO
It's not between the ears - it never has been, and it never will be. In fact, anyone you're paying good money to teach you or coach you in this game, that tries to convince you that it is between the ears, is wasting your money...big time.
Of course, you need to concentrate - that's essential in any endeavor - but at the end of the day, tennis is not chess: the ball, the court, the racquet, and the other guy, all impact how you play the game, and the results you get. And while those of us who follow tennis intensely (or otherwise) are inclined to focus our evaluations on the big 4, one need only take the curious case of Nico Almagro to see how a player, that had so much going for him, has technically stagnated for 3 years, and as a result, his window of opportunity to make a major impact in the game just may have closed.
Not locked, but definitely closed for now.
Six years ago I extolled the virtues of this swashbuckling, bomb throwing, preening man from Murcia, after watching him bull fight his way to two titles in succession in Costa Do Sauipe and Acapulco. And while any number of players have gone on a hot streak at some point in their careers, there was something about the way he won those titles that made me think we could have been looking at one of the next stars of the game. He didn't just have a good serve, he had one of the best serves on tour. He didn't just have a good forehand, it had variety with the ability to dynamically inject pace into the rally at almost any moment. And that backhand...man, is that ever a beautiful backhand.
And he seemed to have the one element that the pundits place greater value in than any other - balls. Big, elephant balls to go with a big game. When the moment called for a howitzer serve, he delivered. A backhand down the line? No problemo. Not always, of course - he missed those shots as often as he made them, but that in and of itself is better than the vast majority of tennis players, and can be the difference when it is needed to pull out matches that seem out of reach: the ability to put the point, the game, the set and the match on your racquet.
But since then, there's been something missing from his game.
Take a look at the career progression of some of his contemporaries - Wawrinka beefed up his forehand, and improved his volleys, and won the Australian Open this year. Berdych developed a passable (not even good, just passable) net game, also beefed up his serve and suddenly he's more often getting results when he should, than he did in the past, and is a perennial top-10 player. Gasquet has improved his fitness, hits his forehand with a little more purpose, and even though he regularly stands 8-12 feet behind the baseline, still finds his way to the net from time to time, and he too is in the top 10. Tsonga's fitness, always a question mark for the first half of his career, is no longer a serious issue, and he is now more capable of bringing to bear the full suite of skills he is blessed with, resulting in him consistently justifying his seeding and winning the odd title here and there. Even David Ferrer, known essentially as a grinder, has beefed up his serve, plays closer to the baseline, and reached his first major final at Roland Garros last year...and Almagro has one more clay title in his treasure chest than he does.
But what improvements has Almagro truly made in the last 3 years?
His serve is still a howitzer, and he often finds himself near the top of the ATP leader board in aces, but somehow his serve game win percentage is rarely in the top 10. One could point to any number of factors for this, but I think the most telling is the fact that aside from pace, there's very little to his first serve. In order for it to be effective, he's got to hit it like a ton of bricks...all the time...and that usually results in a low first percentage. Combined with his generally erratic play, he is unable to muster the consistency needed to compensate for the tactical frailty of his serve, and his return games suffer from the burden.
His backhand is still beautiful to behold - along with Wawrinka and Gasquet, it's one of the best on tour when he comes over it. But the slice is an atrocity - soft, slow, and with way too much net clearance, he doesn't use it enough to give his opponents the problem of dealing with variety, it doesn't have the bite to keep his opponents from attacking it, and he never uses it to come forward...never.
Speaking of which, the only thing worse than his slice backhand is his net game. A weak and inconsistent overhead causes him to set up too far away from the net to consistently finish points there. His poor volleying technique (from the grip to his point of contact) and the lack of familiarity with covering the angles, means that he is more likely to lose the point when he comes forward than win it. That's a tactical paradox, and a recipe for playing further and further behind the baseline, which is never good.
Speaking of which, his court positioning may work on a clay court, but the moment he plays someone who defends better than he does (which isn't saying much, because he's not the quickest guy on tour, nor does he have particularly efficient footwork) or someone who stands on top of the baseline and dictates, he's lost the plot. Modern tennis is such that even the best movers on tour can't survive conceding the baseline for long, and Almagro has never been known for his movement.
Finally, that forehand - he used to hit it flatter from time to time, when the situation called for it tactically. These days, his forehand is just a tool to keep him in the point, rarely hit for winners or pressure, and often landing short in the court, with a good deal of spin, but not nearly enough to keep the pressure off of himself. This just isn't going to get it done. Murray used to spin the forehand in for the most part, but one of the key components of his game that has improved over the last 3 years is the power and direction of his forehand, and his ability to dictate with it.
No such improvements with Almagro.
If ever there were a case of a player who has stagnated technically, and whose career has stagnated as a result, it's Almagro. And while the pill-pushing charlatans of the tennis punditry will have you believe that his problem is between the ears, I would argue that the symptom is between the ears, but the cause is what he does, or more accurately doesn't do when he practices.
Namely, improve his game.
Of course, you need to concentrate - that's essential in any endeavor - but at the end of the day, tennis is not chess: the ball, the court, the racquet, and the other guy, all impact how you play the game, and the results you get. And while those of us who follow tennis intensely (or otherwise) are inclined to focus our evaluations on the big 4, one need only take the curious case of Nico Almagro to see how a player, that had so much going for him, has technically stagnated for 3 years, and as a result, his window of opportunity to make a major impact in the game just may have closed.
Not locked, but definitely closed for now.
Six years ago I extolled the virtues of this swashbuckling, bomb throwing, preening man from Murcia, after watching him bull fight his way to two titles in succession in Costa Do Sauipe and Acapulco. And while any number of players have gone on a hot streak at some point in their careers, there was something about the way he won those titles that made me think we could have been looking at one of the next stars of the game. He didn't just have a good serve, he had one of the best serves on tour. He didn't just have a good forehand, it had variety with the ability to dynamically inject pace into the rally at almost any moment. And that backhand...man, is that ever a beautiful backhand.
And he seemed to have the one element that the pundits place greater value in than any other - balls. Big, elephant balls to go with a big game. When the moment called for a howitzer serve, he delivered. A backhand down the line? No problemo. Not always, of course - he missed those shots as often as he made them, but that in and of itself is better than the vast majority of tennis players, and can be the difference when it is needed to pull out matches that seem out of reach: the ability to put the point, the game, the set and the match on your racquet.
But since then, there's been something missing from his game.
Take a look at the career progression of some of his contemporaries - Wawrinka beefed up his forehand, and improved his volleys, and won the Australian Open this year. Berdych developed a passable (not even good, just passable) net game, also beefed up his serve and suddenly he's more often getting results when he should, than he did in the past, and is a perennial top-10 player. Gasquet has improved his fitness, hits his forehand with a little more purpose, and even though he regularly stands 8-12 feet behind the baseline, still finds his way to the net from time to time, and he too is in the top 10. Tsonga's fitness, always a question mark for the first half of his career, is no longer a serious issue, and he is now more capable of bringing to bear the full suite of skills he is blessed with, resulting in him consistently justifying his seeding and winning the odd title here and there. Even David Ferrer, known essentially as a grinder, has beefed up his serve, plays closer to the baseline, and reached his first major final at Roland Garros last year...and Almagro has one more clay title in his treasure chest than he does.
But what improvements has Almagro truly made in the last 3 years?
His serve is still a howitzer, and he often finds himself near the top of the ATP leader board in aces, but somehow his serve game win percentage is rarely in the top 10. One could point to any number of factors for this, but I think the most telling is the fact that aside from pace, there's very little to his first serve. In order for it to be effective, he's got to hit it like a ton of bricks...all the time...and that usually results in a low first percentage. Combined with his generally erratic play, he is unable to muster the consistency needed to compensate for the tactical frailty of his serve, and his return games suffer from the burden.
His backhand is still beautiful to behold - along with Wawrinka and Gasquet, it's one of the best on tour when he comes over it. But the slice is an atrocity - soft, slow, and with way too much net clearance, he doesn't use it enough to give his opponents the problem of dealing with variety, it doesn't have the bite to keep his opponents from attacking it, and he never uses it to come forward...never.
Speaking of which, the only thing worse than his slice backhand is his net game. A weak and inconsistent overhead causes him to set up too far away from the net to consistently finish points there. His poor volleying technique (from the grip to his point of contact) and the lack of familiarity with covering the angles, means that he is more likely to lose the point when he comes forward than win it. That's a tactical paradox, and a recipe for playing further and further behind the baseline, which is never good.
Speaking of which, his court positioning may work on a clay court, but the moment he plays someone who defends better than he does (which isn't saying much, because he's not the quickest guy on tour, nor does he have particularly efficient footwork) or someone who stands on top of the baseline and dictates, he's lost the plot. Modern tennis is such that even the best movers on tour can't survive conceding the baseline for long, and Almagro has never been known for his movement.
Finally, that forehand - he used to hit it flatter from time to time, when the situation called for it tactically. These days, his forehand is just a tool to keep him in the point, rarely hit for winners or pressure, and often landing short in the court, with a good deal of spin, but not nearly enough to keep the pressure off of himself. This just isn't going to get it done. Murray used to spin the forehand in for the most part, but one of the key components of his game that has improved over the last 3 years is the power and direction of his forehand, and his ability to dictate with it.
No such improvements with Almagro.
If ever there were a case of a player who has stagnated technically, and whose career has stagnated as a result, it's Almagro. And while the pill-pushing charlatans of the tennis punditry will have you believe that his problem is between the ears, I would argue that the symptom is between the ears, but the cause is what he does, or more accurately doesn't do when he practices.
Namely, improve his game.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
MICHAEL PORTER'S TENNIS
Michael Porter is an economist whose theories altered the way the competitive environment in business is analyzed. One of his theories is that, at its core, every business must identify one of only two generic strategies to compete in their industry, and align all of their skills and operations with that generic strategy. Those two generic strategies are either to compete on cost leadership or differentiation, and while the entire skill set of a business pursuing one strategy may (out of necessity) overlap with those of a business pursuing the other strategy, at its core the business must choose.
I've often wondered if this can be applied to any form of competition, including sports, and what then would be the application of these theories to a particular sport like tennis. Within this framework, I think there are two generic strategies in tennis, and they stem essentially from the two basic ways to win a point: you either (1) apply pressure or (2) absorb pressure. The player who applies pressure is more apt to win points through winners and forced errors, while the player who absorbs pressure is more likely to win points through the unforced errors of their opponents.
However, it should not be interpreted that a player who gears his game around one generic strategy or the other cannot develop the skills and employ the tactics of the other - indeed it could be argued that the player who best mixes the two skill sets will be most successful. It should not either be assumed that one strategy is superior to another - just as in business where the ultimate objective is total profits, which can be pursued either through a cost leadership strategy (like Walmart) or a differentiation strategy (like Apple), the same could be argued in tennis. There are examples of great players who have employed either strategy, even through the use of a different set of tactics (and associated skills). But at their core, the best players in the the game have had the most success when their games are aligned with the generic strategy they choose to pursue.
The most obvious example of this is the serve and volleyer, who applies enormous pressure on his opponent by serving effectively to set up his volleys which he would hit for winners or to elicit a weak response that is then put away. There is a laundry list of great serve and volleyers who would fall into this category, but an interesting analysis shows that while the strategic objective is the same, there are a number of ways to achieve it.
Boris Becker and Pete Sampras were serve and volleyers who employed huge sums of power both on the serve and on their ground strokes to essentially beat their opponents into submission. Their games were similar, but whereas Becker's tactics (which was more of a mix of serve and volley and play from the baseline) resulted in 6 majors, Ion Tiriac argued with him for years that he lacked the requisite associated skills to maximize his potential success through anything other than exclusive serve and volley - a tactic that Becker often eschewed in his career to a fault. Becker lost a US Open semi-final to Miroslav Mecir dueling from the baseline with a player who's strategic objective was the diametric opposite of Becker's, and after beating Agassi in their 1989 Davis Cup encounter in Germany, went another 6 years and 8 matches before beating him at Wimbledon in 1995 - all the while trying to beat Agassi at his own game.
Sampras on the other hand, was far more adept in the areas of defense to stay with Agassi as needed, until the opportunity presented itself to go on the attack. By all accounts his movement, footwork, and ground strokes themselves were superior to Becker's, and thus against Agassi and others, who sought to play from the baseline, found it difficult to do either against him. Interestingly enough, players with a similar generic strategic objective had the most success against Sampras, expressly because they were able to put him under pressure, by virtue of their own (huge) serve and volley game, and essentially neutralize his adept ability to meld the skills required to both defend and attack. Stefan Edberg for his career was 6-8 against Sampras, but it is interesting to note that he won 5 of their first 7 meetings and the decline of his career coincided with the ascendance of Sampras'. Once Sampras' game was able to effectively absorb or counteract the pressure from Edberg, he proceeded to win 6 of the next 7 matches.
Michael Stich held a 4-3 advantage over Sampras, and Richard Krajicek was 6-4 over the course of his career. These two statistical anomalies of players with 1 major to their name (not coincidentally Wimbledon titles in 1991 and 1996 respectively) were the result of each player being able to impose their generic strategies over Sampras, and neutralize Sampras' ability to effectively meld the skill sets of both applying and absorbing pressure. In fact, one could argue that while Krajicek and Stich were not nearly the player that Becker was, Becker's record against Sampras was much worse precisely because he failed to stick to a single generic strategy against him, the way his less impressive contemporaries probably felt they had to in order to have any chance to beat him.
It is interesting to note that while Agassi played primarily from the baseline, he was in fact a player who pursued the strategic objective of applying pressure. Like Jimmy Connors and Jim Courier, Agassi applied his pressure primarily from the baseline - but when faced with a player who had sufficient defensive skills to neutralize his advantage in this area - someone like Sampras - he often found it difficult to impose his strategy. As a matter of fact, one could argue that while earlier in his career Agassi was prone to try to hit winners from the baseline, as he became stronger, fitter and more technical, he realized that the equilibrium between attack and defense, particularly from the baseline, meant that he was better off forcing errors than hitting outright winners. But either way, his game was about applying pressure, not absorbing it.
Jimmy Connors is another example of an aggressive baseliner who obviously had the necessary movement and footwork to get in position to ply his trade from his preferred position, but one shouldn't confuse Connors with a player like Bjorn Borg, Rafael Nadal, or Rene Lacoste, who were masters of absorbing pressure. Connors was adept at coming to net and finishing points off, as part of his strategy to apply pressure to his opponents, and had his most successful seasons (eight years apart in 1974 and 1982) when the mix of those two tactical hemispheres was at its peak. Connors may have made his living at the baseline, but he was never so effective at winning majors as he was when he transitioned from bludgeoning attacking opponents with his ground strokes and passing shots, to picking apart those players who made their living absorbing pressure (like the early incarnations of Ivan Lendl).
Over the course of his career, Connors had the most problems with players who effectively absorbed pressure and elicited errors from him. The most telling examples of this comes from Bjorn Borg and Ivan Lendl, both of whom enjoyed lopsided career head to heads against Connors, but initially found it difficult to cope with his aggressive baseline game.
The modern game is more homogeneous in terms of the skill set of players, but generic strategies are essentially split 50/50. Federer and Djokovic are clear examples of two players who apply pressure to their opponents, but do it in very different ways. The important thing to note is that while both players apply pressure, what separates them from other players who employ a similar generic strategy is their ability to defend just enough to get in position to apply pressure. Furthermore, that tipping point differs from player to player within generic strategies, as well as across generic strategies. Federer, if he has to go beyond 15 strokes in a rally, he is unlikely to win the point, whereas with Djokovic, that number is much higher.
Nadal and Murray would fall in the category of players who generically absorb pressure, but that should not be misinterpreted as saying they're pushers. To the contrary a pusher could never get the results they have. Nadal's ability to transition from defense to attack is superior to Murray's in that when he makes his transition he has more power and spin at his disposal to finish the point. But they essentially play the game very similarly, and both are happy to stretch points well beyond the 20 stroke level to wait for that opportunity. In fact one could argue that the longer the point goes, the more likely they are to win it.
This brings us to why Djokovic is currently so effective. Because modern courts are slower, and the balls take more spin and the games of his opponents are more generic than in previous periods in history, Djokovic's superior fire power to both Nadal and Murray put him in a position to finish points in a way that they cannot - however, his level of defense is on par with them and thus he really has both of his bases covered. In fact, his defense is so good, and his points so often so long, that one might be tempted to put him in the category of one who absorbs pressure. But watching him play Federer will dispel this notion.
Fedjoker matches are characterized by both players trying desperately to take control of the point as soon as possible in order to finish it as soon as possible, and it is only the quality of each's defense that stretches the points out. But generally speaking, it is rare for rallies in their matches to go beyond 20 strokes. And Djokovic's footwork, court positioning and stroke production are now so well synchronized that he rarely requires that much effort to beat anyone else.
I think Michael Porter must be a tennis player.
I've often wondered if this can be applied to any form of competition, including sports, and what then would be the application of these theories to a particular sport like tennis. Within this framework, I think there are two generic strategies in tennis, and they stem essentially from the two basic ways to win a point: you either (1) apply pressure or (2) absorb pressure. The player who applies pressure is more apt to win points through winners and forced errors, while the player who absorbs pressure is more likely to win points through the unforced errors of their opponents.
However, it should not be interpreted that a player who gears his game around one generic strategy or the other cannot develop the skills and employ the tactics of the other - indeed it could be argued that the player who best mixes the two skill sets will be most successful. It should not either be assumed that one strategy is superior to another - just as in business where the ultimate objective is total profits, which can be pursued either through a cost leadership strategy (like Walmart) or a differentiation strategy (like Apple), the same could be argued in tennis. There are examples of great players who have employed either strategy, even through the use of a different set of tactics (and associated skills). But at their core, the best players in the the game have had the most success when their games are aligned with the generic strategy they choose to pursue.
The most obvious example of this is the serve and volleyer, who applies enormous pressure on his opponent by serving effectively to set up his volleys which he would hit for winners or to elicit a weak response that is then put away. There is a laundry list of great serve and volleyers who would fall into this category, but an interesting analysis shows that while the strategic objective is the same, there are a number of ways to achieve it.
Boris Becker and Pete Sampras were serve and volleyers who employed huge sums of power both on the serve and on their ground strokes to essentially beat their opponents into submission. Their games were similar, but whereas Becker's tactics (which was more of a mix of serve and volley and play from the baseline) resulted in 6 majors, Ion Tiriac argued with him for years that he lacked the requisite associated skills to maximize his potential success through anything other than exclusive serve and volley - a tactic that Becker often eschewed in his career to a fault. Becker lost a US Open semi-final to Miroslav Mecir dueling from the baseline with a player who's strategic objective was the diametric opposite of Becker's, and after beating Agassi in their 1989 Davis Cup encounter in Germany, went another 6 years and 8 matches before beating him at Wimbledon in 1995 - all the while trying to beat Agassi at his own game.
Sampras on the other hand, was far more adept in the areas of defense to stay with Agassi as needed, until the opportunity presented itself to go on the attack. By all accounts his movement, footwork, and ground strokes themselves were superior to Becker's, and thus against Agassi and others, who sought to play from the baseline, found it difficult to do either against him. Interestingly enough, players with a similar generic strategic objective had the most success against Sampras, expressly because they were able to put him under pressure, by virtue of their own (huge) serve and volley game, and essentially neutralize his adept ability to meld the skills required to both defend and attack. Stefan Edberg for his career was 6-8 against Sampras, but it is interesting to note that he won 5 of their first 7 meetings and the decline of his career coincided with the ascendance of Sampras'. Once Sampras' game was able to effectively absorb or counteract the pressure from Edberg, he proceeded to win 6 of the next 7 matches.
Michael Stich held a 4-3 advantage over Sampras, and Richard Krajicek was 6-4 over the course of his career. These two statistical anomalies of players with 1 major to their name (not coincidentally Wimbledon titles in 1991 and 1996 respectively) were the result of each player being able to impose their generic strategies over Sampras, and neutralize Sampras' ability to effectively meld the skill sets of both applying and absorbing pressure. In fact, one could argue that while Krajicek and Stich were not nearly the player that Becker was, Becker's record against Sampras was much worse precisely because he failed to stick to a single generic strategy against him, the way his less impressive contemporaries probably felt they had to in order to have any chance to beat him.
It is interesting to note that while Agassi played primarily from the baseline, he was in fact a player who pursued the strategic objective of applying pressure. Like Jimmy Connors and Jim Courier, Agassi applied his pressure primarily from the baseline - but when faced with a player who had sufficient defensive skills to neutralize his advantage in this area - someone like Sampras - he often found it difficult to impose his strategy. As a matter of fact, one could argue that while earlier in his career Agassi was prone to try to hit winners from the baseline, as he became stronger, fitter and more technical, he realized that the equilibrium between attack and defense, particularly from the baseline, meant that he was better off forcing errors than hitting outright winners. But either way, his game was about applying pressure, not absorbing it.
Jimmy Connors is another example of an aggressive baseliner who obviously had the necessary movement and footwork to get in position to ply his trade from his preferred position, but one shouldn't confuse Connors with a player like Bjorn Borg, Rafael Nadal, or Rene Lacoste, who were masters of absorbing pressure. Connors was adept at coming to net and finishing points off, as part of his strategy to apply pressure to his opponents, and had his most successful seasons (eight years apart in 1974 and 1982) when the mix of those two tactical hemispheres was at its peak. Connors may have made his living at the baseline, but he was never so effective at winning majors as he was when he transitioned from bludgeoning attacking opponents with his ground strokes and passing shots, to picking apart those players who made their living absorbing pressure (like the early incarnations of Ivan Lendl).
Over the course of his career, Connors had the most problems with players who effectively absorbed pressure and elicited errors from him. The most telling examples of this comes from Bjorn Borg and Ivan Lendl, both of whom enjoyed lopsided career head to heads against Connors, but initially found it difficult to cope with his aggressive baseline game.
The modern game is more homogeneous in terms of the skill set of players, but generic strategies are essentially split 50/50. Federer and Djokovic are clear examples of two players who apply pressure to their opponents, but do it in very different ways. The important thing to note is that while both players apply pressure, what separates them from other players who employ a similar generic strategy is their ability to defend just enough to get in position to apply pressure. Furthermore, that tipping point differs from player to player within generic strategies, as well as across generic strategies. Federer, if he has to go beyond 15 strokes in a rally, he is unlikely to win the point, whereas with Djokovic, that number is much higher.
Nadal and Murray would fall in the category of players who generically absorb pressure, but that should not be misinterpreted as saying they're pushers. To the contrary a pusher could never get the results they have. Nadal's ability to transition from defense to attack is superior to Murray's in that when he makes his transition he has more power and spin at his disposal to finish the point. But they essentially play the game very similarly, and both are happy to stretch points well beyond the 20 stroke level to wait for that opportunity. In fact one could argue that the longer the point goes, the more likely they are to win it.
This brings us to why Djokovic is currently so effective. Because modern courts are slower, and the balls take more spin and the games of his opponents are more generic than in previous periods in history, Djokovic's superior fire power to both Nadal and Murray put him in a position to finish points in a way that they cannot - however, his level of defense is on par with them and thus he really has both of his bases covered. In fact, his defense is so good, and his points so often so long, that one might be tempted to put him in the category of one who absorbs pressure. But watching him play Federer will dispel this notion.
Fedjoker matches are characterized by both players trying desperately to take control of the point as soon as possible in order to finish it as soon as possible, and it is only the quality of each's defense that stretches the points out. But generally speaking, it is rare for rallies in their matches to go beyond 20 strokes. And Djokovic's footwork, court positioning and stroke production are now so well synchronized that he rarely requires that much effort to beat anyone else.
I think Michael Porter must be a tennis player.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
FED DEAD WRONG
THIS POST IS INCORRECTLY DATED IT SHOULD READ 3/12/2008
I used to read blog posts about the mind games Federer plays with his opponents, and loathe that I am to accept it, I have to admit that his recent attempts to justify his poor results are indeed evidence of this. Let me be perfectly clear: there's no conspiracy, and the press are not helping him get results. If his opponents are afraid of him it's because of their results against him - at the end of the day he still has to hit the shots.
I used to read blog posts about the mind games Federer plays with his opponents, and loathe that I am to accept it, I have to admit that his recent attempts to justify his poor results are indeed evidence of this. Let me be perfectly clear: there's no conspiracy, and the press are not helping him get results. If his opponents are afraid of him it's because of their results against him - at the end of the day he still has to hit the shots.
But blaming his losses in Australia and then Dubai on an undiagnosed case of mono is about the lowest I've ever seen Fed go. I give him credit for carrying himself appropriately during his reign as #1 - he could have been unbearably arrogant and surly with everyone all the time, as was say...John McEnroe, Jimmy Connors and Illie Nastase...but he hasn't. For this he deserves credit.
But what purpose is served by claiming his results were down to illness? First consider that every player on tour could be suffering from some sort of discomfort, injury or illness - never mind their personal lives which can easily impact their game. So the fact that Fed is announcing his injury, and laying the blame for his losses at this altar of self-pity, is counter balanced by the likelihood that his opponents over the last four years have also been carrying some handicaps. At the end of the day, we generally don't know, and rightfully don't care, because if you're fit enough to pick up a ball and racquet, you must accept the results regardless of your own mental qualifications thereof.
That he even thought to include in his explanation and additional explanation of why he didn't want to say anything before is further evidence that he recognizes how his assertions would (and should) be received by the objective observer. I doubt had Federer won in Australia and Dubai he'd have bothered to mention his illness. He did the same in his first match against Canas in Indian Wells last year - blaming the loss on a blister. Two weeks later he lost to the same man with no excuse - there may have been one, but even the casual observer would certainly have adjudged them ridiculous. After that second loss, he actually consoled himself (publicly) by saying it was better to lose to the same player twice, making it more likely that the loss is down to some esoteric circumstance of that match up that is unlikely to repeat itself, than starting to lose to all kinds of people.
But why bother with either explanation?
Much has been made of the effect that the aura of Federer has had on his opponents, and I have to say that in this I totally agree. There are any number of players who appear to have lost the match before they step on the court, and rather than continue fighting to the end, seem to accept their fate as inevitable. Where I differ with the lunatic fringe of the blogosphere is in the suggestion that that aura is the result of a media and public relations offensive that has lasted 4 years, in which his management, the tennis media and even some of his opponents are complicit. The suggestion that you can win just by walking on the court is espoused only by those who have no idea how difficult it is to play professional tennis. At the end of the day, you still have to hit the shots, and it is only this that creates the true aura.
But there is certainly an aura - Borg had it for 3 years, Connors for a couple in the 70's, and Laver for many in the 60's, and Pancho Gonzales? Don't get me started. I doubt anyone would put their success down to media hype or anything other than their superior play, but for some reason Federer's detractors can't bring themselves to admit the obvious - the man has played great tennis for the last 4 years, and as a result he's scared the piss out of 99 out 100 players on tour.
But you can begin to depend on your aura, and I think this may have started to happen here. The US Open final of 2007 was Novak Djokovic's to lose - he had set points in each of the first two, and I can stone cold guarantee you that if he had won the first, that match would have turned out very differently. Federer didn't hit but one winner in that sequence, most of the set points were lost due to Djokovic's errors, including an inopportune double-fault or two. Bottom line: he choked, and he choked because he just couldn't handle the fact that he was about to beat the myth.
But what is more telling is not the fact that Djokovic choked those set points away, but the way Federer played those points - in fact, I think it's fitting to say that Federer's willingness to let his opponent self-destruct, rather than attack him in that moment was an indication that he recognized the power of his aura, and let it do its work. Now it's anyone's guess if he would have taken a different approach in the second set, had he lost that first, but because it wasn't broke, he didn't fix it, and the Djoker proceeded to collapse again.
In Australia, Djokovic may have been helped by the natural antipathy he feels at being left out of that exclusive club of two - Federer and Nadal. Legions of fans appear to be at their disposal at all times and places, so much so that it wouldn't surprise me to see them one day walking on the shoulders of all their fans from the practice court to the club house without ever touching the ground. And Djokovic clearly had had enough. Aided by the camp mentality so obviously purported by his family, who just can't understand how it is everybody doesn't love their little boy as much as they do, when Djokovic saw the finish line in Melbourne, he ran through it, rather than pulling up at the end like at the US Open.
Does this mean that the end is nearer for the reign of the Great Roger Federer - of course, but this would have been true whether he won or lost in Australia - after all, one cannot expect him to be so dominant forever. And it is possible that Djokovic just may have finally done the one thing that other players who succumb to the impulse to beat the myth, can't do - he just went out and beat the player instead.
Maybe that's why Roger is trying so hard to explain away his bad results - maybe he has become too reliant on that myth. If that is the case, it is a problem that is easily fixed by hard work. If players have found solutions to the problems you present, find new problems. But if Roger Federer decides to go the other way - to keep doing the same thing and hope to get (in his case) the same results, I think he's dead wrong.
But what is more telling is not the fact that Djokovic choked those set points away, but the way Federer played those points - in fact, I think it's fitting to say that Federer's willingness to let his opponent self-destruct, rather than attack him in that moment was an indication that he recognized the power of his aura, and let it do its work. Now it's anyone's guess if he would have taken a different approach in the second set, had he lost that first, but because it wasn't broke, he didn't fix it, and the Djoker proceeded to collapse again.
In Australia, Djokovic may have been helped by the natural antipathy he feels at being left out of that exclusive club of two - Federer and Nadal. Legions of fans appear to be at their disposal at all times and places, so much so that it wouldn't surprise me to see them one day walking on the shoulders of all their fans from the practice court to the club house without ever touching the ground. And Djokovic clearly had had enough. Aided by the camp mentality so obviously purported by his family, who just can't understand how it is everybody doesn't love their little boy as much as they do, when Djokovic saw the finish line in Melbourne, he ran through it, rather than pulling up at the end like at the US Open.
Does this mean that the end is nearer for the reign of the Great Roger Federer - of course, but this would have been true whether he won or lost in Australia - after all, one cannot expect him to be so dominant forever. And it is possible that Djokovic just may have finally done the one thing that other players who succumb to the impulse to beat the myth, can't do - he just went out and beat the player instead.
Maybe that's why Roger is trying so hard to explain away his bad results - maybe he has become too reliant on that myth. If that is the case, it is a problem that is easily fixed by hard work. If players have found solutions to the problems you present, find new problems. But if Roger Federer decides to go the other way - to keep doing the same thing and hope to get (in his case) the same results, I think he's dead wrong.
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