WHY IS EVERYONE SO AFRAID OF GOATS?

It seems to me there’s been a awful lot of fear of the GOAT debate running around, and for the life of me, I can't understand why. After all, this is sports, and we do keep records: who won a match, who won a tournament and who won a slam. All of these elements are important to fans because it is this very context that gives meaning to sports that separates it from the arts. I may love dancing as much as the man standing next to me, but aside from a few technical arguments on the proper form of this step or that, we really have no context for discussing which particular dancer is better than another.

But that’s not the case with sports.

In sports, and in particular in tennis, it is precisely the context of determining who is the better player in a point, game, set, match, tournament, year and era, that makes it compelling for those who follow the game. After all, you can prefer the tenacity of Nadal over the artistry of Federer, over the pure power of Djokovic; but at the end of the day all those elements are merely means to an end of determining who is the better player by something that is indisputable – results.

Yet somehow results have become the least important element in the GOAT debate, and it appears to have become fashionable to invent new and improved ways to look past the obvious (i.e. results) to something else that is the truest measure of greatness. But in my opinion, and as they say in the south, this is a bit like reaching around your ass to scratch your elbow. Today, the GOAT debate, and more importantly, the fear thereof, has been rekindled by the exploits of one Roger Federer.

As often as the fearful argue against the concept of the GOAT, detractors today typically argue more specifically against Federer as the GOAT. Mostly, they don’t debate his results, although some try to (rather convolutedly I might add), but rather offer variations on the problems with the GOAT argument itself. There are so many variations on arguments against his results as the truest measure of greatness that it is difficult to address them all in a single post, but here are some of the more common ones that are currently a la mode.

THE GAME HAS CHANGED

The argument goes like this: tennis is played very differently in 2009 than it was in say 1929 or 1959 or even 1989, and as such it is not reasonable to compare a player in 2009 to a player from 1929 to determine who was the better player. I suppose if you’re asking if say, Bill Tilden went into a time warp and played Rafa Nadal today, who would win, I think the answer is obviously Nadal. After all, Tilden couldn’t hit 100+ mph winners from behind the baseline, or 140mph serves up the T. Enveloped in this argument is that equipment has changed the game fundamentally – and this is very true. Tilden’s shots probably spun, at the most, 500 times a minute, whereas Nadal’s do so at 3200 rpm on average, and peaks at 5000 rpm. And these changes certainly would make it difficult for Tilden to beat Nadal.

But what about the alternate argument: what if Nadal were transported to 1929 without his modern equipment? I would argue that Rafa would at the very least have to completely regenerate his game to play in full pants on grass (almost all the time) with a racquet half the size, twice as heavy and with strings that impart almost no unnatural spin on the ball at all. I'm sure in time he would figure out a way to beat Tilden...or would he? What about Tilden? If you transported him from say, 1925, and gave him modern equipment, nutrition and accoutrements for 5 years, I'm sure he'd still never figure out a way to beat Nadal...or would he?

The point - this is what makes this argument entirely moot - because who would beat whom is not the question the GOAT debate is trying to answer.

The GOAT debate is trying to determine, given their circumstances who more often emerged as the best player at the most important competitions in their respective careers. In that context, if (God forbid) Rafa’s career ended tomorrow you could hardly say his was better than Tilden’s – after all, the pinnacle of both their eras was winning slams and 10 slams is more the 6. But then again, we don’t know what will happen tomorrow and for all we know we have either already witnessed Rafa’s last slam, or the 6th of 20 to come, which in either case, the case would be closed.

So what matters is not whether Rafa could use a slice forehand effectively, or if Tilden ever came over his backhand. It doesn’t matter that Rafa takes 35 seconds between points, but Tilden only played 50 times a year. What matters is that when it mattered the most (namely at the slams) Tilden emerged the best player more often than Rafa, although I am pretty confident that in 5 years, that will no longer be the case. It is, in fact, a macrocosm of determining a tournament champion – we don’t care that my first round was easier than yours, or that I played with wind on one day while you played under the roof. What we care about is who won – and we would no sooner name Ivo Karlovic the Wimbledon champion because he hit more aces than Nadal, than we would consider Rafa the greater champion because he hits harder than Tilden.

At the end of the day, what the players do either in technique or in tactics, is a means to an end - to win as many of the most coveted titles they can, and it is that measure that makes different careers perfectly comparable by this measure, regardless of the fact that the manner in which they achieved that aim has changed.

WEAK COMPETITION

This one is most often cited when comparing Sampras to Federer – the argument is that Sampras' era was full of grand slam winners, and as such, he had more of them to overcome than Federer did, and as such, while they have the same number of slams, Sampras’ slams were harder (due to the competition), and thus he was the greater champion. On the face of it, this seems to be the most damning argument against Federer. After all, very few of his contemporaries have won slams so it seems to make sense that his era was weaker – of course there is a very big problem with this logic.

First, the measure you’re using is not abstract – tennis is a zero sum game – someone wins and someone loses every single unit of competition in the game – there are absolutely no ties in tennis. And when it comes to the measure that we use the most to evaluate players and their place in history, the number of slams won, it is even moreso a zero sum game (if that's logically possible) – because in this case one person wins a slam, and 127 other players who contended lose - hundreds more who didn't don't even show up on the books. And of course there are only 4 slams a year, so if you win 3 of them, your competition necessarily appears weaker because you’ve won more of them.  But does this really speak to the quality of the contemporaries or that of the one who won more often?

Is Federer less of a champion because he won more?

His competitors necessarily won less often and by this logic qualify only as weaker competition?  I would ask you this – which do you think Sampras would have preferred – to win 3 slams a year 3 times or 2 slams a year 4 times – I’m quite certain he’d prefer the former. Why? Not to sound condescending, but because in sports more winning is better. In the latter he'd have 8 slams, whereas in the former he'd have 9 - but his competition would be considered stronger in the latter because he, in fact, won less often.

That just doesn't add up.

There’s also another problem – using slams to measure the competition of a dominant player, but setting aside that same measure when evaluating the dominant player himself, creates two separate systems of valuation that are inconsistent, not to mention contrary to the idea of sports and competition. Furthermore, it assigns more value to a player for something that he didn’t do – in other words Sampras gets credit for Agassi winning more slams when he was a contemporary of Sampras. But isn’t there something Sampras could have done that he didn’t, (that Federer did) that would have made this argument moot?  Of course there is; Sampras could have won the very slams that Agassi did; then he’d have more slams overall and Federer wouldn’t even be in the conversation.

At the end of the day, the competition is as strong as you let it be – never mind that Sampras never beat Edberg in a slam or Davis Cup, Edberg is still used to prop up the strength of Sampras’ competition. Another variation of this argument is that although Federer beat Agassi in slams, Agassi was older and weaker when Federer beat him than when Sampras beat him. So by this logic, was Edberg in 1995 better than Edberg in 1992 or 1990 for that matter? Was Becker in his prime in 1995 or in 1989? So why does Sampras’ competition get better, as they age, than Federer’s? For that you’ll have to ask those who support this argument - because I have no idea...well, I have an idea.

There are all kinds of variables on the competition even within a tournament – the Soderling that beat Nadal at Roland Garros was obviously not the same as the one who lost to Federer – but I give two arguments to the contrary – did Federer have anything to do with the quality of Soderling’s play in the final? Of course he did. And can anyone tell me honestly they think Acasuso, Haas or del Potro could have done in their first grand slam final what they did in the 3rd round, quarterfinal and semi-final? Probably not.

Wrapped up in this weak era argument is a microcosm thereof – Federer’s draws have been easier than his contemporaries. Because Federer always seems to wind up playing someone he’s beaten 10 times, you start to think that his draws are easy. But the rebuttal of this is so obvious that it’s easy to miss – if Federer’s draw is easy because he’s playing someone he’s beaten 10 times, doesn’t that speak to Federer’s greatness because he’s beaten so many players 10 times? 

Is it a sensical criticism that you win too often to be considered that good? 

It's more logical to say his draw is easy because he’s made it look easy, by beating his opponents over and over again in the past, and getting through the current one.  At the end of the day, the draw is as easy as you make it look. Nobody thought Soderling would put up much of a defense against Nadal in Paris this year because Nadal had just beaten him in Rome 6-1, 6-0, and had lost to him 3 times. But suddenly his draw was harder in Paris – why? Because he lost. So in the aggregate, by winning more, your draw looks easier, and thus you’re not as good as you appear? But does that make sense?

Doesn't winning more often make you a better player?

The range of variation from stroke to stroke versus from era to era is immeasurable. What remains the same is this – whoever Sampras played in his grand slam final victories, whether it was Andre Agassi or Cedric Pioline, they won 6 matches in a row, but couldn’t win the 7th. And whoever Federer played in his grand slam finals, whether it was Marcos Baghdatis or Rafael Nadal, they won 6 matches in a row, but couldn’t win the 7th. After all, isn’t 7 wins in a row what everyone was trying to do all along? Does the rest of it really matter?

THE #1 RANK

There is no doubt that earning the #1 ranking is a measure of consistency over the period of time the rankings are calculated. Therefore, how many years you’ve finished #1 seems to be a good measure of greatness. I wouldn't entirely disagree with that and would use that as a tie breaker between two players on equal terms in majors won.  But give any great player a choice between being #1 or winning slams and they’ll all choose slams. That’s because there are so many variations from one tournament to the next, in terms of effort, tours, commitment, etc., that the #1 ranking has a lot of holes in it in determining greatness. Slams, on the other hand, are the only pure competitive pursuits in the game of tennis - everyone covets them equally, and everyone comes to play. But there are other problems with the #1 ranking as compared to slams.

First off all, you can be ranked #1 without winning a slam – the list of players who have been ranked #1 without winning a slam is short, but damning nonetheless - Ivan Lendl in 1983, Carlos Moya in 1997, Marcelo Rios in 1998. Lendl and Moya eventually justified their ranking, but have the rankings always reflected accurately the relative value placed on various titles? If so, then how could the non-slam winning #1 be possible? At best, even though it often convenes with winning slams, the #1 ranking is a calculated reflection that has only existed since 1973, and has always been heavily weighted in favor of ATP events - even to this day (you could win the calendar slam, but if another player wins 6 Masters 1000s and 4 500s, by the ATP ranking you're on equal terms - that doesn't make sense). 

Before the ATP rankings, rankings were arbitrarily determined by various individuals based on a myriad of considerations that included foremost the number of the most important tournaments won but also included factors that changed as the game changed - namely before the game was unified under the single umbrella of the ATP organized tour in 1990.

Even so, there have been cases of players who have won fewer slams than their nearest rival, but still somehow finished the year ranked #1: Jimmy Connors in 1978 won the US Open – it was his only slam that year – Bjorn Borg, on the other hand won Wimbledon and the French Open – guess who finished the year ranked #1.

And on January 3rd, 1983 John McEnroe, who hadn’t won any slams for more than 12 months, somehow usurped Jimmy Connors to the #1 ranking despite Connors having won Wimbledon and the US Open in the previous year. Nobody considers the anomalies as problematic because the second best player at the time and since retained considerable gravitas – but the rankings made little sense then and as such, are not a reliable measure of greatness in the aggregate, because the ranking system has been so clearly flawed and more importantly inconsistent.  The same cannot be said of the majors.

HEAD TO HEAD AGAINST HIS GREATEST RIVALS

This one goes like this: at the end of his career, Sampras had winning records against all of his major contemporaries, whereas Federer appears to have a losing record to many of his major contemporaries – so how can you be the greatest of all time when you’re not even the greatest of your own era?

To this I give two names – Richard Krajicek and Michael Stich. Both players had winning records against Sampras over the course of their careers, and both played him often enough for those records to “matter” in the abstract (10 and 7 times respectively). So who was the better player Sampras or Krajicek? Sampras or Stich? Nobody in their right mind would argue the latter in either case and the reason is because they both won 13 fewer slams than Sampras did. In other words, when it comes to Krajicek and Stick, although their head to heads against Sampras were considerably better, clearly the measure of greatness was slams. But when it comes to Federer, somehow the measure of greatness turns to head to head versus Nadal, and Murray (of all people). So why use slam totals to propel Sampras past those whom he lost to more often than he beat, and not do the same for Federer?

In the case of Murray there is no good explanation. In the case of Nadal there are only two good ones – first Nadal has 6 majors himself, and thus is considered an all-time great.  But Federer has 8 more majors than Nadal, and if he were the better player in this era, shouldn't he have more majors?  That brings us to the other argument:  that Nadal will eventually surpass Federer. Well, then when Nadal surpasses Federer, he will necessarily be the GOAT – until then SPECIFICALLY AS COMPARED TO THE CAREER OF FEDERER he’s just like Krajicek and Stich to Sampras - he just happens to have a few more slams to his name.

The funny thing is, the one player who loses out in this discussion despite years of dominance that exceeds just about any other player in history, is Pancho Gonzales – whereas slam totals is the basis for Sampras’ and Federer’s GOAT candidacy, it is entirely head to head competition that is the basis of Pancho Gonzales’. But that doesn’t do anything for Sampras, who is most often cited as a more worthy claimant to being the GOAT than Gonzales. In fact you won’t get any argument from me if you suggest that Gonzales was greater than Federer – but you will if you say Sampras was – for now they are even, and if Federer gets #15, that’s one more than Sampras and in my view that makes him greater...by 1 slam.

NOT EVERYBODY PLAYED ALL THE SLAMS

It is historically ironic that the championship of the country that has produced more great champions in the history of the game than probably any other (with the exception of the United States) was for so long considered the red-headed step-sister of the slams. There are a lot of reasons for this that are not germane to the GOAT question, so I'll leave that to another post. What is germane is whether this matters to the GOAT argument.

Basically it goes like this - if all the greats always played the Australian Open, they would have won more slams and thus would look better historically.  Ironically, one of the other legitimate GOAT candidates, Laver, played every Australian Open he could, so that argument is not necessarily applicable to him (more on that later). But what about Connors, Borg and McEnroe - since they won so many slams on grass, they would surely have won the Australian Open more often, right?

Well, if that's the case, then Sampras and Federer should have won 5 Australian Opens, since they've both won 5 US Opens - oops...they've only won 2 and 3 respectively. In fact, Connors won 3 slams in 1974, and then proceeded to reach the final in 1975 of each slam he won in 1974 - the result - he lost all 3 finals all to players that he had easily beaten the year before, and generaly bettered in his career.

The point? There are no guarantees in tennis, so you can't argue that a player who won Wimbledon 5 times would have won the Australian 5 times, just because the surface was the same - why did Laver go 4, 3 and 2 in Wimbledons, Aussie's and US Opens? They were all on the same surface when he played, so he should have gone 4, 4 and 4 for that argument to hold.

There's another side to this argument - all the slams that were not available to professionals would have added to their career totals.  This is mostly an argument to pad the accomplishments of those that suffered the most during the schism between amateur and professional tennis before the open era began.  The most common example given is usually Laver, who finished his career with 11 slams, but supposedly would have had a lot more if he had been able to play as a professional. But there's a problem with this argument - if Laver had been able to play majors after turning professional, so too would Hoad, Rosewall, Gonzales, Trabert, etc. Thus they would all have been in a position to add to their totals as well, and more importantly prevent Laver from winning more. At the very least, we must discount Laver's total of 11 by the 6 he won as an amateur and start from there in this hypothetical slam total. He may very well have won 10 more majors, but it would have to be added to the 5 he won as a professional, rather than the 11 people normally use as the jumping point to arrive at his hypothetical total of 20+.

In fact even if he won half the majors from which he was banned from 1963 to 1967 he goes from 5 to 15. Speaking of which, Laver won 9 out of 15 of the 3 biggest professional tournaments he entered during that period (those tournaments considered the professional slams), which takes his total from 5 to 14.

So by this analysis, the best you could extrapolate from Laver's banishment is a total of 14 majors. Remember that the first US Open was in 1968 and the final was contested by 2 amateurs (Arthur Ashe and Tom Okker), even though professionals played that tournament (Laver lost in the round of 16), so there's no guarantee of how many he "would" have won had professionals played. But the best you can assume is that he is on par with Federer...for now.

CONCLUSION

We measure who is the best player on a surface by how often they win the biggest titles on that surface. Vilas may have a better record on clay, but few consider him greater than Borg because of their starkly contrasting records at the French Open. We measure who is the best player in a year by how often they win the biggest titles in a year – Connors may have amassed more arbitrarily assigned points in 1978 than Borg, but would anyone say he was the better player that year? No. Why? Because of Borg’s results in slams – 2 wins and a final, versus 1 win and 1 final for Connors. We measure who is the best player in an era by how often they’ve won the biggest tournaments in the game – so nobody considers Connors a better player than Borg even though he won 30 more titles – why? Because many of those were rinky-dink titles contested by rinky-dink opponents. But when everyone equally pursued the same title, Borg won more – namely 3 more.

So the question is – why are so many afraid to anoint the player who wins the most slams ever as the greatest player ever? One thing is for certain – it has nothing to do with results. And isn’t that more than mildly ironic when it comes to sports?

TO (NOT) PRESERVE THE UNION

A lot's been said about the UAE denying Shahar Pe'er a visa to play in the WTA event in Dubai, and more importantly, the inaction, acquiescence and disunity exhibited by the WTA and its players. I would love to see the "leaders" of the WTA (and by leaders, I mean its most prominent players) boycott the event. If they were really a player's association (of course it isn't) they would, but it isn't, so they won't, and what a shame that is. Long lost are the days when this was viewed as a players union.

When was the last time anyone in tennis took a stand in support of a player who'd been screwed? Guillermo Vilas was suspended for 12 months for taking an appearance fee in March of 1983 at the Rotterdam tournament - the very same tournament that Andy Murray just won this weekend. While many spoke out in support of him, not a single player on tour protested by boycotting anything in support of Vilas, even though they were all doing the same thing.

This is right about the time when money in tennis began to explode, with players easily eclipsing six-digits in prize money for the most lucrative titles.

The last time anybody on the ATP put up a fight on anyone's behalf was 1973 when Niki Pilic (former German Davis Cup captain and an early coach of Novak Djokovic) was banned from Wimbledon after refusing to play Davis Cup for Yugoslavia. 81 of the top 128 players in the world boycotted Wimbledon that year, including the defending champion Stan Smith, who's probably about the nicest guy ever to play tennis (maybe him and Barry MacKay) and who probably cost himself a second Wimbledon title. Some pretty good players joined him, including Arthur Ashe, Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, John Newcombe and Roy Emerson just to name a few. It could be argued that they did it for selfish reasons as well - I mean if Yugoslavia could do it to Pilic, who's to say Tennis Australia or the USLTA couldn't have done it to them as well? But somehow, after all those years playing professionally, or playing for daily allowances, I doubt their reasons were entirely ego-centric - not 81 players anyway.

Now that was a union.

And there were some ignominious absentees from the band of brothers who apparently didn't see it the way the aforementioned stalwarts did. Ilie Nastase, who probably needed the money for current or future alimony, an 18-year old Bjorn Borg who probably didn't give a hoot, and a 21-year Jimmy Connors, who definitely didn't give a hoot, all played that year - and perhaps poetically all lost. In any case, aside from Emerson, there's probably never been a player who has been so lowly regarded for winning Wimbledon as Jan Kodeš. A good player who never won another Slam in his career, Kodes, it's worth pointing out, probably couldn't have boycotted if he wanted, just 5 years removed from Russian tanks rolling through Prague and an oppressive regime tapping his phone lines and harassing him for his prize-money (and by harassing, I mean threatening him - furtively or otherwise).

Irony of ironies: Vijay Armitraj, one of the most successful Indian tennis players in history, played Wimbledon that year. He was just 20 years old, was an up-and-coming player, and lost in the quarterfinal to the eventual champion Kodeš, who was seeded 2nd - his highest ever seeding.

A year later, in 1974, as India was on the verge of its second Davis Cup final, their tennis federation forfeited the final against South Africa, in protest against apartheid. It remains the only time in the history of the cup that the final has been forfeited.

Armitraj was so upset with the federation that he threatened to quit Davis Cup altogether - he didn't, but had to wait another 13 years until 1987 before he participated in another final. By then, long past his prime, he lost 1 live rubber to Anders Jarryd and one dead rubber to Mats Wilander. Karma? Who knows...

By then Armitraj had refused several opportunities to play exhibitions in South Africa for political reasons, so it just goes to show you that sometimes, even a man with every reason to take a stand, who has to be dragged kicking and screaming to do so, can eventually come around. So while it may be stupefyingly naive of me to wish that tennis millionaires today would be willing to do the right thing and boycott Dubai, it is not without precedent.

Apparently the wealthy athletes of today, like many wealthy people in society, have no interest in preserving any union.

NEW MONEY, SAME OLD PROBLEM

Recently Jelena Jankovic hit back at stinging criticism from Roger Federer on the state of rankings at the WTA. In essence, he repeated what most have said about Jankovic’s stint as the #1 player in the world – that it made no sense.

Jankovic was none too pleased, but a quick look at the distribution of points across categories of tournaments on both the WTA and the ATP tours demonstrates some very strange possibilities. Federer would do well to consider this the next time he chats with the ATP President, as he himself could wind up in the unenviable position of looking a bit silly for his ranking as well.

There are nine 1000 Series events, excluding the year end championships, on the ATP Tour, each of which is worth 1000 points to the winner. Each grand slam is worth 2000 points – 9000 vs. 8000 points – which means that a player could win the calendar slam, another could win every 1000 series event, and the winner of the calendar slam would have to find another 1000 points (all other things equal) to obtain the #1 ranking?

Huh?

That’s right – a guy could win 28 grand slam matches in a row, and still come out the wrong end of the rankings. What a nightmare that would be. Fair enough, the 1000 series sweep is an altogether less likely scenario than the calendar slam, but it reveals that the rankings are weighted towards the events that the ATP controls, and as such if the stars so aligned, we could see such a ridiculous scenario played out. You could argue that a player who wins all 9 MS events deserves to be #1, but would you feel that way if another player won the calendar slam?

Well, that's an unlikely scenario, so let's take it piece by piece – imagine a player wins two slams – 4000 points looks pretty good – but to overcome that (again all other things equal) you'd just have to win 3 1000 series titles (one more than did Djokovic and Murray last year) and two 500 series events (say Rotterdam and Indianapolis) and you'd have the exact same number of points as a winner of Wimbledon AND the US Open in the same year.

Now which record would you want for your favorite player?

You see, the tennis gods look favorably on the calendar slam – even half of it. Why? Because there’s continuity of purpose in the slams, and as such, you can gauge a player against the greats of the game a hell of a lot easier with slam results than a mish-mash of tournaments, the collection of which seems to change with the each year. The top 8 players don’t even play the same number of matches as the rest of the field in 1000 or 500 series tournaments, and although you’ve got more time to rest in between matches at slams, anyone who’s played a 5 set match will tell you that it’s always harder to come back from that than your average 3-setter.

Consider this other possibility – a player winning four 500 series tournaments (say, Rotterdam, Doha, Indianapolis and Barcelona) is adjudged the equal of the champion at Wimbledon – in ATP points that is. Any player with his head not on backwards would choose Wimbledon over the other events, so why don't the rankings reflect that.

Now let’s look at the women’s side.

The Wimbledon champion on the women’s side would earn fewer points than another player winning 3 non-mandatory Premier 5 tournaments (2000 vs. 2400 points) say, Beijing, Stuttgart and Moscow. So you don’t even have to win any tournaments where all the best players are required to participate, and you can earn the same number of points as one of the Williams sisters.

This is probably the area where Federer has a good point. It is altogether unlikely that a player who is capable of winning more than three 1000 series shields in a season doesn’t win at least on slam, but win 2 of them, and you’re on par with the US Open champion. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it has only happened because the slam winners tend to win 1000 series tournaments along the way. That’s a convenient coincidence, but a glaring anomaly in the making nonetheless.

Ivan Lendl was ranked #1 in 1983; he only reached two grand slam finals but racked up enough victories in tennis hotbeds like North Conway, New Hampshire and Naples, Italy to hold the top spot come Christmas. In his favor that year was that 4 different men won grand slams (Noah at the French, McEnroe at Wimbledon, Connors at the US Open and Wilander at the Australian). So the argument then with Lendl was the same as it is today with Jankovic; how can a guy/gal who can’t win a slam to save his/her life, be considered the best player in the world? It didn’t help that in 1983 he lost 4 out of 5 to McEnroe, 2 out of 4 to Wilander, 2 out of 4 to Connors and his one and only match to Noah - a collective 5 of 14 against the slam champions.

Fast forward, nip and tuck to the women's side, and we have our example in Jelena (Lendlova) Jankovic – last year she won Rome, Beijing, Stuttgart and Moscow (sound familiar?), had consistently (barely) above average results everywhere else, and so was ranked #1. But nobody – not even Jankovic, I suspect – sincerely believed she was the best player in the world – maybe the most consistent, but certainly not the best. Well, thankfully Serena has put that question off for a bit.

Jankovic won more points for any 3 of those tournaments than Sharapova did for winning in Melbourne, Ivanovic did for conquering Paris, Venus did for winning her fifth at the All England Club, and Serena Williams did for exorcising her small town blues at Flushing. Jankovic lost her only match to "I'm So Pretty", went 1-2 against Verdasco's ex-girlfriend, split 1-1 with the Fly Trap, and 1-2 to Serena, for a whopping 3 for 8 against the slam winners - ironically she lost in 3 of the 4 slams to the eventual champion, but still topped the table at the end of the season - this after losing in the semi-final of the year end championships.

The point distributions do not represent the historical or even current significance of tournaments. In order to encourage high profile players to play events that are essentially money-makers for the tour, they have to put a point value on them that will draw marquee players. But as soon as they do this the advantage goes to those who play more often, but not necessarily better, and that’s when the rankings begin to make little to no sense at all. So why do they want to draw players to these events? – I told you, that’s where the money is; new sponsors, new venues and a whole lot of NEW MONEY (in Beijing and Moscow, anyway).

The only solution is for the ATP and the WTA to admit that tradition counts in tennis and the only thing that everyone cares about equally is the slams. They could eat into the gravitas of the slams by keeping a more consistent year to year schedule and attaching some historical value to smaller events, but as long as money changes hands globally, new venues have cash to burn, and players have entourages to support, there’s little hope for a calendar or ranking system that make sense on both sides of the aisle any time soon.

Well, at least Jelena can always take Roger for a ride in the Porsche she won in Stuttgart – you can’t drive a ranking anyway.

A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS

There can no longer be any doubt - he is the best player in the world today, he has been for the last 12 months, and it's likely that he will remain the best player in the world for the remainder of 2009. With his maiden victory at the Australian Open, Rafael Nadal has shown that he may very well be chasing history of his own this year, with a calendar year Grand Slam - and it is likely to overshadaow that which has now become something of a distraction to that, which is Federer's pursuit of Pete Sampras' record 14 grand slams. For my money, it's now time to put aside the scrutiny and speculation on that.

In winning the Australian Open for the first time in his career, Nadal has now won 3 out of 4 slams, with only the US Open lacking in his cabinet. He also happens to have won 3 out of the last 4 grand slams, and bettered his initial results from 2009 by one better than his likely closest competitor. In the past, this part of the season for Nadal has focused on preparation for the clay court season, and a defense of (seemingly eternal) French Open crown, with a brief interlude for the two events at Indian Wells and Miami, which make absolutely no sense at all, but to which all players are obliged to make an appearance. Recall that last year he nearly won Miami, losing a strangely lobsided final against Davydenko, while the week previous lost a semi-final to Djokovic, who curiously is the only man to have beaten Nadal twice in 2008 (he did it again in Cincinnati before losing the final the Andy Murray).

This year, he'll be the favorite in those tournaments because of his results in Melbourne, but frankly, Nadal seems to have built the right to be considered the favorite in every match he plays because there are no longer any weaknesses or any holes in his game that anyone can find. What strikes the most about his victory in Australia is the manner in which it was won. Initially, he appeared to be having his way with a sub-par level of opponents, right up until the quarterfinal with Gonzalez, but even when facing the best losing performance of the tournament - a 95-winner slamfest from compatriot Verdasco, Nadal showed that his indominatable spirit would not be denied, as he put in a superior performance and most importantly with fewer errors and fewer aces to pad his numbers.

The final appeared to only be as close as it was because of the fatigue he must have felt from the 5-hour epic in the previous round. Even as his legs became wobbly, Nadal simply dug deeper than anyone else in the world could have, and went for broke. The fact is that when he had the chance to mentally check out, with a ready made excuse for losing, he chose to pull his socks up and go for broke over and over again. Whereas Federer, with ample opportunities to close out the first set, and the third, wilted under the pressure in a way we're more accustomed to seeing his opponents do against him.

But this is no ordinary opponent.

In the end, it was the most correct result possible, for if Nadal had lost the final, there would be an asterisk next to the loss due to the incredibly disproportionate scheduling that saw him play 24 hours after a 5 hour match. Thankfully that didn't happen, and clearly the best man won.

Although he will evade the question until the US Open, as he has craftily avoided the question of favorites and scheduling and everything else that could have derailed him today, it is not too early to begin to ask ourselves if this is the year that Nadal wins the calendar year Grand Slam. Defending his title in France will not be easy, but the unusually long break between the Australian Open and the French gives him plenty of time to rest and prepare for that one month between June and July that will determine if he enters the US Open with the chance to become the first man in 40 years and only third man in history to win this coveted prize.

Based on his performance today, and indeed over the last 12 months, only a fool would bet against him. And if he wins the calendar year grand slam and adds 3 more slams to his career total of 6, he'd be at 9 - one shy of Bill Tilden, 2 shy of Laver and Borg, and 3 shy of Emerson, 4 of Federer and 5 short of the great Pete Sampras.

A year ago, a blogger on another site posed the question of whether in Nadal, in 2008, we were were witnessing the birth of the GOAT, and many, including this author, scoffed at the notion. But based on his technique, his physical power, his tactical acumen and his sheer dominance of will, I won't be making that mistake again. It is entirely possible, and at this point appears likely that Rafael Nadal will become the greatest player in the history of the game. He will win the US Open eventually, he will win more French Opens, and Wimbledons and since he's only 22, with absolutely no sign of satisfying his appetite, it appears is well on his way to eclipsing Sampras within the next 3-4 years.

I wonder if the bookies have odds on that?

VOX POPULI, VOX DEI?

The ATP came out with a new look and feel to their website (http://www.atpworldtour.com/1/en/home/default.asp), and one of standard features, a link to head to head player comparisons, defaulted to one between Nadal and Federer. In the last incarnation of the old site a poll asked fans who would finish 2009 as #1 - guess who won?

Apparently, a few Nadal fans took umbrage at the poll itself, but more likely with the result: a majority of fans who answered the poll expect Federer to return to #1. This is an amazing conclusion given a few facts – in their 18 meetings, Nadal has won twice as often as he has lost, he's younger than Federer, his game appears to be continuing to improve and his 2008 season was one of the best in the history of the game.

So where’s the love?

A quick look at some statistics of their rivalry reveal something that may (sub-collective-consciously) contribute to why so many feel so confident that Federer will overturn last year’s results. First, of their 18 meetings, 10 have been on clay, of which Federer has won only one. To be fair, that’s about the same winning percentage on clay against Nadal as the rest of the tour combined, but nevertheless it shows one thing – those who would suggest their head to head is lobsided, without considering that more than half their encounters occurred on clay are ignoring the obvious question – what would the head-to-head look like if the encounters were evenly dispersed on multiple surfaces?

If we remove the clay court encounters between the two, we are left with 8 matches, and in these matches, Federer is up 5-3. On grass he’s 2-1 and on hard courts he’s 3-2. So if we extrapolate this out to have their encounters split evenly between 3 surfaces (clay, grass and hard courts) the record might look something like 1-5 on clay, 4-2 on hard courts and 5-1 on grass, in which case the overall head-to-head would be 10-8 in favor of Federer.

Fair enough, the number of grass encounters would, in reality, be minimal, but even if we give Federer the same results on grass as hard courts they're an even 9-9. But given Fed's dominance on grass, the 10-8 record probably represents what most feel is the relative difference in quality between the two.  So it seems the collective wisdom of ATP fans favors Federer, and the (adjusted) record seems to support it.

Of course tennis doesn’t work that way – it’s about results, and Nadal’s against Federer are better, but let’s compare another pair of titans and see how their results may have differed had their results been skewed towards one clearly favorable surface.

Borg and McEnroe played 14 times in 4 years, and split their results. Grass 1-1, Carpet 5-3 in favor of Borg, leaving their hard court results at 3-1 in favor of McEnroe – but fascinatingly conspicuous in its absence are results on clay. 15 years BN (that’s Before Nadal) Borg was universally considered the greatest clay court tennis player in the history of the game. In 9 years he lost twice at the French Open (to the same player) and skipped the tournament entirely in 1977. His career record on clay was 245 to 39: he lost as many on that surface as any of the others (except grass) but also played on it more than any other – in fact he won twice as many matches on clay as any other surface.

So, does anyone really think McEnroe would have split their encounters on clay?

Fair enough, McEnroe is underrated on clay because he never won the French, and it wasn’t his best surface, but not so underrated that he’d split his encounters with Borg.  In fact I’d say that if they’d played half their matches on clay (as have Federer and Nadal), and the rest on others, nobody would be comparing the Borg/McEnroe rivalry with any of the other historically great ones – the results would be too heavily in favor of Borg.

At the end of the day, it turns out that even head to head rivalries are a weak comparison of players because an anomaly like the number of times played (or not played) on one players’ obviously favorite surface, can skew the results.

Taken in a broader context, aside from his victory at Wimbledon and the Olympics this year – comparable to another hard court MS shield – Nadal’s results this year are comparable to his results in the previous 4. Federer, on the other hand has had a very unusual season – he failed to win a Masters Series shield for the first time since 2001 and failed to win more than one major for the first time since 2003.  Even so, he still reached 3 out of 4 grand slam finals, and remains, albeit precariously, #2 in the rankings. (I say "precariously" because I haven’t included Djokovic in this analysis.  No disrespect is intended - this column was inspired by the head-to-head between Federer and Nadal - but on a side-bar, The Djoker would have to repeat his victory in Australia to stay on Federer’s heels for #2, whereas Federer would need only reach the semi-finals in Melbourne to “defend his points”.)

Nadal on the other hand, has won just 3 of his career 12 Masters Series events on anything other than clay, with one each in 2005, 2007 and 2008, and would have to come up with a second Wimbledon and an additional non-clay MS victory (to match is Olympics victory) to defend his points in 2009 – a tall order for any man, including the best player in the world.

Perhaps in comparing the likelihood of each man repeating his performance of 2008 in 2009 the collective wisdom of ATP fans have concluded that Nadal has a harder road, whereas Federer would need to win at least 1 MS series tournament and reclaim an additional GS in 2009. Apparently, the fans believe the former is less likely than the latter.

Vox populi, Vox dei?

We shall see…

WHERE TENNIS WENT WRONG

At the start of the open era, in 1968, tennis had an opportunity to do what was done in baseball when technology threatened to destroy the integrity of the game. With radical changes in equipment composition resulting in even more radical changes in the game itself there was an opportunity. And had the game been organized under a single sensible umbrella of administrators who cared about the game, more than they did the size of their own coffers, they would have done something that may very well have changed the game for the better:

Forced all professional players to use wood racquets and standardized their composition.

Now before you yell at your screen at the thought, consider this: ironically the racquets are about the only piece of equipment in tennis that goes largely unregulated in the professional game. Players are restricted on what kinds of shoes they may wear on different surfaces, the balls are standardized (they are loosely so in soccer), the court dimensions are rigidly standardized (they are loosely so in baseball), and even the surfaces are highly regulated.

So does it make any sense that the one piece of equipment that may have turned tennis in to the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am young man's game it is today, is the one piece of equipment that's largely unregulated?

One of the reasons why so many great players of yore were serve and volleyers, was that most major tournaments were played on grass, and everyone used a wood racquet. To use a wood racquet is akin to a professional baseball player using a wooden bat - only the most skillful, athletic and learned players in the world can wield this weapon with proficiency, and only the least skillful, athletic and learned players used composites...or so it was.

If you compare the overall playing ability of players who learned the game with wood racquets, with the last generation (born after, say, after 1978) the breadth of skills has most certainly suffered the consequences.  I mean, it's almost as if any idiot with a big serve and mindlessly wielded forehand, can make a living playing professional tennis. Gone are the days when various spins, angles, court coverage and the desperately lost art of serve and volley, were prerequisites to success at the highest levels of tennis. You can probably blame this on two players who ultimately changed the game for the worse, despite their undeniable tennis talent and performance: Jimmy Connors and Bjorn Borg.

Up until these two quick and devilishly monotonous baseliners came along, most players had the ability to do many things with a tennis racquet. Both of these players had plenty of variation in their strokes, but they were the first two, in at least two to three generations anyway, to master the art of dominating from the back court, albeit in very different ways. And it's no irony that both initiated changes in racquet technology that ultimately morphed the game into something that would be scarcely recognizable to them in their heyday.

Connors mastered the Wilson T-2000 steel frame - a frame so heavy, fidgety and with such a small sweet spot, that he was the only player in the world (that's the world, not just professional tennis) still using it long after it went out of production. The frame was heavier than a wood racquet, which made it hard to maintain racquet head acceleration through the stroke, but Connors with his excellent vision and fully rotating body through the point contact, was able to make violently beautiful music with an instrument that most would have a hard time carrying a tune.

The frame was also very malleable through the stroke and at the point of contact, creating a whipping effect that increased acceleration of the racquet head and imparted huge force on the ball that was unseen to that point. Nobody in the world had seen a player hitting outright winners from the baseline as Connors did with regularity. Facilitated by hitting a two-handed backhand, and rotating through his forehand in a manner that is common place today, Connors beat back both of these disadvantages and turned them into weapons of mass destruction that lay waste to his opponents for 5 years as he remained the dominant figure and #1 ranked player in men's tennis from 1974 to 1977.

Both the changes in stroke production and the introduction of his two-handed backhand heralded a new era in tennis, due not the least of which to his choice of racquet composition.

Bjorn Borg retired using a wood racquet, but he too violently thrust his body at the ball in a way not seen in tennis to that point, only he used that force to impart more topspin on the ball than any player in history. Accompanied by his supreme athleticism and speed, Borg became (and in my opinion remains today) the greatest clay court player in the history of the game. The combination of spin, force, and court coverage was dastardly, and resulted in him losing just 2 out of the 9 years he played at Roland Garros (both losses, in 1973 and 1976 were to the Italian Adriano Panatta - he didn't enter the field in 1977).

The secret to the spin Borg created was the obscenely tight racquet string tension he used. Rumored to be somewhere in the 85 - 90 psi range, his racquets often broke from the force of the string tension at high altitude tournaments, or in airplanes. The reason for the tight tension on the strings lies in the need to impart spin on the ball consistently - to do this, the racquet must first crush, then rotate the ball at the point of contact in a way the trampoline effect of a lower tension stringing cannot - imagine the difference between running into the net and bouncing straight back the way you came, and running into a concrete wall of the same height - you'd be crushed and probably flip over it - as does the ball - although the flipping effect, is more accurately embodied by the rotation of the ball and hence the spin.

Now most players seeking to compete with Connors and Borg's power and spin respectively, had no chance - first both players used a western grip to close the racquet head face at the point of contact, while most used a continental grip keeping it open to maximize the trampoline effect, but minimizing the crushing of the ball required to get the spin to keep the ball in court. So to compensate, racquet manufactures realized they could do two things - stiffen up the frame to create less vibration and maintain racquet head control, loosen the tension to create the trampoline effect, alter the composition of the strings themselves to assist with the creation of spin, and finally lighten the frame with a composite to increase racquet head acceleration.

The problem, of course, with increasing racquet head acceleration is that unless you are a player of the highest level of talent, it is difficult to hit the sweet spot of the racquet with the frames that were in use in those days, and any bigger frame on a wood racquet made it heavier and more prone to vibrations, diminishing control. To facilitate the ability to compete of players around the world who paled in comparison to the talent of these two titans, racquet manufactures increased the typical racquet head face size from 85 to 100+ sq. in. Once that happened, everyone and his brother became capable of hitting the ball like a ton of bricks, and staying in the back court just like Connors and Borg. Serve and volleyers also benefited, but the big benefit came in the form of oh-so many Bolletieri academy dead-heads who were taught to hit the ball hard with these new fangled composite racquets, and if that didn't work, hit it harder.

Don't bother coming to net Aaron Krickstein, don't bother learning how to hit an effective backhand Jimmy Arias, and never, under any circumstances, ever serve and volley Andre. Now, Agassi may very well have been capable of developing a more rounded game than his now-no-name Bolletieri predecessors, but why bother - with eyesight and hand eye coordination similar to Connors, he never had to, and the effects of these tools in his hands were exponentially beneficial to a man of his level of talent - much more so than it would have been to say, someone like David Wheaton, who beyond a big serve and big forehand, was about as useless on a tennis court as tits on a bull.

Had tennis had the foresight to restrict racquet equipment the way bats were restricted in baseball, we may very well still be watching the likes of Pete Sampras competing with the half-witted skill-challenged dolts who masquerade as professionals in the modern game. Have you ever seen James Blake execute a volley in a singles match? He looks like a club player. And Roddick looks more like someone with a death wish with his kamikaze forays to the net. Never has a player so committed to coming to net been passed so often.

In fact, even Federer, with all his talent and ability, has to force himself to come to net, and when he does, if he has to hit more than one volley, he's more likely than not, to get passed. I can only think of two true serve and volleyers to day in the top 50, Feliciano Lopez and Radek Stepanek, and they can hardly be considered the more talented players on the tour. They win matches against top opponents because they're able to put pressure by approaching consistently and with intelligence, and if they had any talent, may even find themselves in the top 10. Unfortunately for both of them, their talent sorely lags behind their skill set, and as a result they are destined to fall short at the feet of more brainless ball bashers who just close their eyes and swing as hard as they can.

Not only would we see top players compete longer, but we'd also see a different class of top player, if they were restricted to wood racquets, because when your strategy is to hit is as hard as you can, and doing so delivers hardly enough power to win points from the back court, they'd have to find other ways, more resourceful ways, to win points. This resourcefulness, or more accurately the lack there of, is why there is so little difference between the players in the top 50, but as a result, those who do have a brain have a huge advantage over even the second-best players in the world today. There would always be exceptions to the rules - just as Borg and Connors found ways to turn an era of serve-and volleyers into an era of baseline bashers, I'm certain that Nadal would have figured out a way to bang and spin with relatively equal venom as he does today. But how about Fernando Gonzalez? Or James Blake? Or even Lleyton Hewitt?

Do you honestly believe that these players would have careers as they do now if they when they laid the wood to the ball it was actual...wood?

Tennis lost a golden opportunity to preserve itself in 1968, when open tennis began. As long as they were changing the rules on eligibility, they could have done the same on equipment. But here's what might be very interesting - when players join the senior circuit, let's turn the clock all the way back and make them use wood racquets. Maybe Sampras, 12 years the junior of McEnroe, would still beat him black and blue with a wood frame...but I'm not so sure, and I for one would love to see that.

DAVI(D')S CUP...ACCORDING TO BODO

Peter Bodo has been covering tennis for about 30 years, and for this I commend him…but as far as this post is concerned, that’s about the last good thing I have to say about him. I was absolutely gobsmacked by the following post at ESPN.com and here on Tennis World in which Bodo places the entire blame for Argentina’s loss in the Davis Cup final to Spain, on the shoulders of one person. 

That one person isn't Juan Martin del Potro who came into the tie with no energy, no plan B, and went out with barely a hint of struggle. It isn’t Chucho Acasuso, who again was unable to come up with the goods to win a "must win" match. It wasn’t any one of a number of Argentine professionals (Canas, Chela, Monaco, Calleri, etc.) that have been so weak as individuals that none of them was preferred to a half-injured or half-hearted options. And it wasn't Alberto Mancini, who did little more than hand out towels and nervy energy for 3 days. No the person he chose to condemn was David Nalbandian.

What?

The same David Nalbandian who has won 17 singles rubbers and 10 doubles rubbers for his country. The same David Nalbandian who has enthusiastically played for his country without hesitation for 6 years straight. And the same David Nalbandian that gave Argentina the perfect start to what should have been their coronation, by winning his opening singles rubber in straight sets against David Ferrer.

What?

Here we have a player who has never shied away from representing his country – who genuinely believes there is honor in the competition, and hopes to be appreciated for it. What a rare trait! Federer and Nadal have both flipped the bird to Davis Cup over the years, and we fall all over ourselves to congratulate them when they take the time out of their busy exhibition calendars and play for honor. But when Nalbandian gives his heart and soul to the cause, he’s accused of somehow turning a team competition into an exercise in personal vainglory. Somehow, now, it’s a bad thing that Nalbandian wants to win a Davis Cup?

What?

I also find it shockingly, and patently transparent, that Bodo has gone out of his way to heap accolades on Roddick for being a “team leader”, which is nothing more than an attempt to give him praise for something…anything…in the absence of winning a major for the last 5 years. I don’t criticize Roddick – he deserves his praise – but the insinuation that somehow Roddick’s commitment to the USA, trumps Nalbandian’s to Argentina is, as the English say, just bollocks. 

What exactly is this "team leader" non-sense anyway? An invented crown full of costume jewelry, worn only by Roddick because, try as we may, there’s really nothing much else we can say about his game that’s been exceptional over the last 5 years. He was supposed to be the savior of American tennis and he’s failed miserably, and rather than accepting this like other countries do for their underachieving players, we concoct new and exciting ways of putting him right up there with the greats of the game that have...dare I say it...actually won majors. 

But this is absolute non-sense. 

Roddick has nothing to do with Blake or the Bryan's winning or losing their matches. Try as we may to relate the two, Blake is as inconsistent in Davis Cup as he is in everything else. And the Bryan's win all the time, not just when Roddick is cheering them on from the bench.

Speaking of whom, if anyone has turned Davis Cup into his own personal glorification, it’s Roddick.  But Bodo has nothing but kind words for him. I’m not suggesting Roddick should be criticized – I happen to admire his commitment to Davis Cup – but why then has Bodo chosen to criticize Nalbandian for the same virtue? Apparently he admits he has an axe to grind when it comes to Argentine players, but fails to mitigate this and proceeds to lambaste Nalbandian. The strange thing is Bodo should know better – he should know that all this talk of team spirit, and togetherness is bull – tennis, even when played in a team context, is still about one man trying to destroy the other. 

And at the end of the day, one man, and only that man can either will his way to win, or find a way to lose. That’s why it’s so important, in Davis Cup, that you have a team of real men who are fit enough, good enough and courageous enough to do like the Raiders and “just win, baby”. Spain did and Argentina didn't – how is this Nalbandian’s fault again?

Davis Cup is what it is:  an imperfect test of the best tennis playing nation in the world. It’s a team competition and the team is the tennis playing nation, not 2 or 3 players, as the American's success in 2007 would have you believe. Frankly, I think the Americans were damn lucky they didn't have a similar situation – had Roddick come up lame before any of his Davis Cup matches, we’d all be lamenting that there were no others to hold aloft the mantle of “team leader”. But that didn't seem to bother the Spaniards, did it?

Here we have everyone and his brother bemoaning the misfortune of the Argentinians that their flavor of the month, del Potro, was injured and couldn't do the job on Friday. Excuse me, but has anyone ever heard of a player who was completely absent from the Spanish squad named Rafael Nadal? He was probably on a boat somewhere not contributing one iota, and if Spain had lost, we’d all be asking how different it would have been had he played. In fact they were without Nico Almagro and Tommy Robredo, two players ranked higher than Verdasco, but they still found a way to win. Instead, in hindsight, we've all got 20/20 vision, and now, going to Argentina without the best player in the world was somehow an advantage to Spain?

Oh, it gets stupider…

Then, there is this business of Nalbandian criticizing his teammates – dare I ask, so what if he did? After all, they deserved it – and if Acasuso had won on Sunday, you can bet someone, somewhere, would be giving the credit to Nalbandian for "motivating" his teammates.  And as if the soap opera weren't pathetic enough, he throws in this unconfirmed story of Nalbandian trying to "finagle" the location of the final to be somewhere close to Cordoba – which is apparently his home town.  But I ask you this:

What in the hell difference does it make where they play if you can’t keep the ball in between the lines? 

Did Nalbandian make Chucho aim for the fences (and often hit them) time and time again, giving away countless points to Verdasco, who gladly just kept the ball in play waiting for him to self-destruct?  Did Nalbandian make Lopez play the match of his life? And if del Potro was not motivated, this is Nalbandian's fault? What's the source of Nalbandian's motivation? According to Bodo, he wants to make up for all his personal underachieving by making the Davis Cup "David's Cup". But this assumes he feels somehow he should be ashamed of his career. Maybe Bodo feels he's underachieved, but that has nothing to do with Nalbandian's self-perception, and thus, his cynical assumptions about Nalbandian's motivation (while ignoring the absence of del Potro's) is beyond absurd – it is in fact sinister. 

The fact of the matter is Argentina lost because they lacked depth – full stop. The Spaniards have a lot of options, even when the best player in the world is on vacation. The same could not be said for Argentina. Their best hope was to win 3 singles matches, even though they put in a hell of an effort in doubles, but fell short. Nalbandian did his part, but when he looked over his shoulder to see who else was going again into the breach, he saw a 19 year old kid with no plan B, and a guy who 2 years ago, looked like he was on the verge of depression after losing another deciding rubber – this one in Moscow.  Next to that, they had about 6 other players so out of form or shape, they didn't even bother to suit up.

And it is this lone warrior, who gave everything to the cause, that Bodo chooses to isolate for blame. 

Shame on you Peter Bodo – after all these years you really should know better.

THE FLEAS COME WITH THE DOG

Well, with egg on my face, I must admit, I got it all wrong with regards to the ATP Rankings, and the ATP Race. Basically, I jumped the gun on my assumptions about the reasons for the differences, and have come to the conclusion that, in the words of Congressman Dick Dodge from The Distinguished Gentleman:

“Son, the system ain’t perfect; but the fleas come with the dog.”

First, to explain the differences between the two points systems, and why each, in some form, is necessary to maintain legitimacy and sense in professional tennis.

THE SYSTEMS

As I write, the #1 ranked player in the world is Rafael Nadal. This ranking is based on the system of the official name “Entry Ranking System”. To be honest, I still haven’t quite figured out what is the meaning behind this name, but basically it is a rolling 52-week backward facing accumulation of points, giving a 1-year snapshot of the relative ranking of all professionals. It is used to determine which players are eligible to enter the various events, and the seeding thereof.
The points are allocated across 7 categories of tournaments:

[1] Grand Slams
[2] The Masters Cup (Year End Championships)
[3] Masters Series
[4] International Gold
[5] International
[6] Challenger
[7] Futures

The ATP Race serves two purposes: first, it determines the year end #1 player for the season, and it also determines which eight players will play in the TMC. The genesis of the ATP Race was the perception that the #1 ranking was not intuitive, and observers not intimately involved in tennis had a hard time keeping track of who was the #1 player.

The categories of the ATP Race differ from the ranking points in that only the first 4 categories of the ranking points transfers to the ATP Race – challenger and futures events are excluded from the ATP race. The points allocated to the yearly points is also smaller by a factor of 5, but proportionally the same. The only remaining difference between the two is that the Olympics are not included in the ATP race points, and as such have no bearing on the year end #1 ranking, or the TMC invitations.

The structure of the ATP Race is that all players begin the year with 0 points, and begin to accrue points in various categories of competitions throughout the year. This differs from the entry rankings in that players maintain points accrued from the previous year, into the current year. The players earn points at the grand slams, all the masters series events, and the best five results from the two international series in both systems.

If the ATP had their druthers, they would do away with the entry ranking system, since it is not a palatably marketable tool to promote the casual fan tracking the progress of the season, but the problem comes with the seeding at tournaments. If there were not carryover from the previous year, players could only be seeded either by the tournaments themselves, in a haphazard way, or based on the ATP race points, and players who either manage their schedule or suffer injuries would suffer unjustly.

For example, Mikael Youzhny, and Michael Llorda would have been the top two seeds at the Australian Open, while Federer and Nadal, could possibly have wound up facing each other in the earlier rounds, and nobody wants to see that. Furthermore, if for some reason one of them were injured early in the season, they would see their ranking suffer terribly, and have a very big hill to climb for the remainder of the year.

TWO SYSTEMS, ONE #1 (FOR THE MOST PART)

For these reasons the dual system exists, and on the face of it, makes perfectly good sense. That there are two points systems in play at any one time would seem to make it very confusing for anyone outside of tennis trying to follow who’s doing what during the season, and would over emphasize the value/quality of a hot player, versus one who consistently demonstrates superiority over the field over the course of a year.

Of course, it doesn’t help that the points go back a year in terms of the confusion, and because in Olympic years there are proportionately more points available for seeding than there is to determine the year end #1, it makes for the possibility that depending on the results, a player could wind up with a higher ranking, but still lose out on the year end #1. It would require an extremely coincidental and convoluted series of results to expose such an oddity, and fortunately, because tennis is sport that tends to be dominated by a consistent small group of players, particularly the top 5, we haven’t seen a lot of peculiarities due to this asynchronous allocation of points.

IDEALLY....

Ideally there should be one system that everyone refers to, and the entry ranking system could be renamed the entry seeding system, to alleviate confusion. After all, David Nalbandian is ranked #7, but given that he was the highest ranked player at Stockholm, he was the #1 seed, but nobody is going to confuse him for the best player in the world. Even the casual observer could look at the ATP race and see that he must be seeded so high because nobody else with a better ranking (or in the new system, seeding) is playing in the tournament.

It turns out that there is really no problem at all with the entry ranking system per se – the real problem is with the #1 ranking. It has taken on a significance all its own, independent of the results in the slams, some kind of badge of honor that (for them most part) only the best players in the history of the game have been able to attain. Each time we get a Marcelo Rios or a Jelena Jankovic reaching #1 in the world without winning a grand slam, it feels wrong because we know the prestige in the game is related to results in the crowned jewels of the game, and as such, the #1 ranking is an artificial accolade, created by the ATP many years ago in order to standardize seedings and create a holy grail towards which their sponsored/controlled events are geared, giving them more gravitas than they would otherwise have on their own.

THE SOLUTION

Maybe we should do away with the #1 ranking. It would take a genius to figure out that the #1 ranked player in the world can’t really be determined until the end of the year, and leading the ATP Race, wouldn’t hold much value until the TMC came around. But there’s something about being able to rank players from one event to the next, and have a ranking commensurate to the marketing of an event that makes tennis special. In college sports, there is an excitement around #1 versus #2 that tennis benefits from because of its ranking, but that system is fraught with problems as well.

I don’t know if it would matter to anyone if the abstract #1 ranking disappeared. It’s only been around for 35 years and would, in history, be treated as an aberration owing to the evolving structure of professional tennis that was eventually rectified by the consolidation of power in the ATP and the introduction of the ATP Race as a proper vehicle to determine who the best player in tennis was in a year.

It would also eliminate, or at least mitigate the embarrassing historical asterisk of the Marcelo Rios’ of tennis.

ODE TO JUSTINE

Here are some new lyrics to the song, "Yesterday" by McCartney and Lennon, written as an ode to Justine Henin, the last all-court player in women's tennis who has chosen to retire from the game:

Yesterday,

I just used to love the way you play
Now it seems that there’s another way
To play, but not like yesterday

Suddenly,

Sharapova’s not so cute to me
I wouldn’t watch Serena play for free
Big babe tennis came suddenly.

Why she,
Had to shriek I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said,
Close your mouth and play the way they used to plaaaaayy…

Yesterday,
Tennis was a lovely game to play
Now I need a juice and tanqueray
To watch the way they play today

Why she
Had to quit I don't know, she wouldn't say.

I said,
Nothing’s wrong, with the games of yesterdaaaay.

Yesterday,
Big babe tennis was so strange to say
Now it seems as though it's here to stay,
Oh how I long for yesterday

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmmmm....

THE WORLD ACCORDING TO ANDY...MURRAY THAT IS

Here’s what I can’t stand about Andy Murray – it’s not his ridiculous haircut, or his insufferable demeanor, nor the absurdity of his ever-growing entourage of trainers, mothers, masseuses and coaches. What I can’t stand about Andy Murray is his sense of entitlement.

To be fair, it’s hard to expect more of someone who’s been showered with more undeserving praise than anyone in professional tennis. The British media, renowned for their willful collaboration with sporting "authorities" to create the unmerited illusion of competitiveness in sports they once dominated (take your pick: rugby, football, tennis, cricket…) have taken this to a new level with the inexplicable obsession with Andy Murray. It’s true that he’s beaten Roger Federer a couple of times (so has Willy Canas, but you don’t see the Argentine press fawning over him) and he’s the highest ranking British tennis player in the world (which is not saying much since they haven’t had a decent crop of players since Rusedski and Henman), but the effect of this has created a monster that is neither pleasant to behold, nor easy to contemplate.

Recently Murray indicated, to the horror of British tennis fanatics around the world, that if he couldn’t compete in the top 10 he’d retire from tennis. I don't believe I've been so keen to see a player drop out of the 10 ten in 30 years of watching tennis. There was, of course, no mention of what he’d do if he weren’t playing tennis – but when you’re spoiled and think the commonwealth is your oyster, you tend not to consider these things on the odd occasion that you contemplate something other than your next paycheck.

This week, Murray had a first round match in Italy against Juan Martin del Potro – a spindly 6’5” Argentine who hits like a ton of bricks, but generally whose accuracy is inversely proportional to his power. While his results have improved dramatically over the last two years, very few people outside of tennis have any idea who he is, and until he gets some decent results, Monday’s farcical exchange with an equally narrow Andy Murray, will probably be what he is best known for.

In this match, Murray, in all his tactical genius, decided at 4-4 in the second set to serve and volley. This of course involves volleying which, despite his grossly exaggerated reputation as an all-court player, Murray is not particularly good at. The serve was laughably weak, and del Potro promptly pummeled it at his feet, to which Murray replied with a weak looping volley that dropped just beyond the service line to his right. This situation is tricky for del Potro – if he tries to belt it up the line, he has to get it up and down where the net is 6 inches higher, and as such can lead to an error long or in the net. Try to push it up the line, and Murray gets a cheap shot at another volley. Rope it cross court, and any player with a modicum of tactical sense will know this is the higher percentage play, and will typically cheat in that direction, hoping to poach to the open court for a winner.

On this particular play, which you can see in the first point of this clip:

Murray actually begins to cheat to his left, but then suddenly stays where he is. Del Potro, recognizing the situation rightly hit it as hard as he could right down the gut – in fact it was a little to Murray’s right, and may even have ventured long had Murray not gotten his racquet on it. What ensued is almost as comical as it is revealing:

For some reason, unbeknownst to either del Potro, the chair umpire, or the 3-4 unbiased onlookers who stuck around to see the conclusion of this (mercilessly) rain-delayed match, Murray expected an apology from del Potro, and even kept his forehand extended pose long enough for him to see if he bothered to look back at Murray. He didn’t, and he didn’t, and apparently Murray took exception to this.

Now we all know that Murray is accustomed to being watched intently and playing in front of large audiences, so the empty stadium likely did nothing to garner his attention, and understandably he may have needed a lift to take the match a little more seriously. But rather than digging deep and slapping himself in the cheek (either literally – which would have suited me just fine – or figuratively) he chose to use this curiously inferred slight as his cue to get pumped.

Only Murray didn’t bother to play better or even more adventurously – he simply began cheering del Potro’s errors. And Judy Murray being Judy Murray, joined in the festivities. Del Potro may be a qualifier, but any self-respecting player would take exception – there’s nothing more annoying than an opponent (and his mother) patting him/themselves on the back as reward for points given to him/them on errors. But Murray being Murray, expected an apology for the non-drilling (which he didn’t deserve, and didn’t get) and later had the temerity to make allusions to it on the change-over. He went so far as to extend his rather giraffe-ish neck around the umpire’s chair to reiterate his expectation of an apology for his opponent hitting his shot 3-4 feet to his right on a crap volley.

Then came this adorable exchange:

Murray: You try and hit a ball at me and you think it's fine.
del Potro: You are always the same hey? You never change.
Murray: You yeah.
Umpire: OK boys, I'll handle it now.
del Potro: And your mother, she's the same always.
Umpire: Just save it 'till later.
Murray: Do you want to speak about my Mum again? Huh?
Umpire: Andy...
Murray: No, no, no... that's unacceptable.
Umpire: That's what I'm just about to say, let me handle it...
Murray: This guy hits it straight at me...
Umpire: Well, he can do that!
Murray: Then I can say something when he's hitting off the frame too!
Umpire: It's only going to get worse if you get involved, trust me, just let me handle it...Juan, that's enough okay?

So his complaints began with the expectation of deference to his oh-so-beautiful face (i.e. “How dare you have the nerve to hit a ball within 10 feet of my million-pound-sterling smile”), and migrated to the exception he took to del Potro righteous indignation.

We still haven’t come within a country mile of either the scud-missile Murray claimed was aimed at his head, or the insult for which he was so ready to challenge del Potro to a duel. Frankly I think Fergus Murphy did him a favor, because he nearly bought himself an on-court ass-whipping had the umpire not graciously stepped in to save him from himself.  But what exactly was it that got Murray so hot and bothered? That’s right – not getting an apology for not hitting the passing shot within 5 feet of him.

Now this is, in my opinion, the epitome of an undeserved sense of entitlement. Murray doesn't get any special dispensation because the British play him up to be the next best thing, and his mother doesn't get any special protection because her son thinks she’s the nicest lady in the world – what spoiled brat doesn't think the same of his own mother.

If she’s going to be antagonizing her son’s opponents by sticking it in their craw every time they hit the ball off the frame, then she’s going to come into some criticism, and Sir Quit-A-Lot shouldn't bother coming to her defense. If she doesn't want to be criticized, she can keep quiet and watch the match in anonymity like every other sane mother on tour. And if Murray doesn't want to risk getting hit by the ball when he’s at the net, then one of his 16 coaches can teach him to volley properly.

Let's not gloss over the fact that Murray patently lied about the entire incident when asked about it in his press conference. Now, why anyone bothers to attend these circus shows is beyond me, but in response to a question about the exchange Murray claimed, according to the AP, that del Potro went head-hunting on the pass, and then insulted his mother. The video above refutes both charges, where it is clear that not only did del Potro not hit at him (although it is his right to do so), but he also didn't just spontaneously spout off an insult to his mother. He was in fact, antagonized by Murray (which was conveniently not reported), and responded, I would say, rather mildly to it.

Murray revealed himself to be a liar, an instigator and a self-absorbed prig in one brief moment of lunacy - therapist's chairs have seen less revealing sessions. In fact, I don't know how much of a revelation this was - more like a confirmation.

At the end of the day, it is the prince of the other most unbearable family in tennis, the Djoker-vic’s that may have said it best:

"In the UK a lot of kids are a little bit spoiled. If you have perfect conditions and everything you want, you don't know the real meaning of tennis and you don't work as hard as you are supposed to. You do not have hunger for success because everything is on a plate."

Rather than berating him for the piercing nature of his comments, the British press would do well to heed his observations and consider their own role in creating the Enfant Terrible that is Andy Murray and every other British tennis player that shows some promise. Stop the hype, and wait until the kid earns some of the praise you just can’t wait to heap on him, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone on the island that can play tennis, and...dare I say it...win one for the Queen.