2016 CITI OPEN DAY 6: THE YANKS ARE COMING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2016 CITI OPEN PLUS: TENNIS FILES

I met the author of the Tennis Files, Mehrban Iranshad, last year at the Citi Open.  For both of us, this was our first year as members of the media, and we hit it off, culminating with me paying a visit to Episode 25 of his podcast after the summer storm chased us away from the William H. Fitzgerald tennis center last night.

I had an absolute blast, and I hope you enjoy it, as well as his awesome site:  a real treasure trove of information to develop and improve your game.

The Tennis Files

Merhban

2016 CITI OPEN DAY 4: THE QUIET AMERICAN

Last year I generously extolled the virtues of the Mesomorph, Sam Groth - a man with a rocket launcher of a serve and the physique of a man meant to protect a king.  His tournament came to an end yesterday against the best player in his quarter, when he fell tamely in the first round.  Groth's might be the most famous of all his flamethrower serving contemporaries due to his infamous 163mph record salvo, so the temptation to watch him play is a strong as it ever was.  I watched a gaggle of expertly prepared and generously whetted, middle-aged women move from side to side on the north end of Grandstand 2, to get a feel of what the biggest serve looks like coming at your face.  I guess size really does matter when you may know little about the intricacies of the game, but you can definitely read a radar gun...and boy was it buzzing today.

Unfortunately for Groth, the serve is only one half of the first shot qualities required of a top player.  Whereas he specializes on giving, Nishikori, Djokovic and Murray have shown over and over again, that it is the fine art of receiving that is altogether most likely to distinguish a professional tennis player in his chosen field of endeavor.  That's why the true tennis enthusiast, whether a connoisseur or a novice, should take note of the subtle, almost indiscernible skills of Brian Baker, which you can't tell at first glance, but like the still waters of the Potomac, run very, very deep.

His story is one of Herculean heights and troughs before he returned to take his rightful place at the table of professional tennis.  In 2003, Baker was as one the best juniors in the world, losing in the final at Roland Garros to one Stan (the Man) Wawrinka.  And with victories over his now more illustrious contemporaries like Marcos Baghdatis, Gael Monfils and Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, one could have been forgiven for heaping untold American hopes and aspirations on his narrow shoulders.  But injury plagued him for years to the point where he nearly gave up the game, until 2011 when, while coaching at Belmont University in Tennessee, he entered an ITF future event in Pittsburgh as an unseeded - in fact he was unranked - qualifier.

And won the tournament...without dropping a set.  

That remarkable debut (anew) culminated in a career high ranking of #52 on the back of a victory at Basel over Radek Stepanek and a loss to eventual champion Juan Martin del Potro two years later.  Desperate injuries at the Australian Open of 2013 and just before the same tournament in 2015 genuinely threatened to destroy his prodigal return, and cost him almost the entirety of 2014 & 2015, but the tennis Gods, (who must be crazy) have given him one more bite at the apple, and we're all the better for it.

Baker has the ability to do two things that are essential for any top tennis player:  he can blunt his opponent's greatest weapon, and he can provoke them into destroying themselves.  If his rival likes to hit with a lot of top spin, he can cut a slice that's as flat and straight as a rock thrown side-arm, lightly bouncing off the surface of a lake.  If the guy wants to come to net, he can hit running top spin lobs off of both wings, to go with passing shots that find their way through the scantest of openings like a bodkin.  And if his opponent has an elaborate wind up to his ground strokes, Baker stays on top of the baseline and whips his forehand inside in and out, with equal efficacy, making it very difficult to find your feet, settle in and rip it.  

In fact, I would argue that Baker's greatest weapon is that chameleon quality he has to shift his shape to whatever is required.  He's not John Rambo, loudly blowing shit up in the quiet concrete jungles of the US summer hard court season.  He's not John McClane, yapping on the radio all day and night, and jumping off a burning building shouting "yippee-kayayy, motherfucker!"  

Brian Baker is the quiet American, who will gut you like a fish as he smiles, shakes your hand, and removes your wallet.  He'll disabuse you of any notion of how good you are by forcing you to do exactly what you do worst, if you want to beat him.  He doesn't appear to be physically imposing until you're standing next to him, when you realize you're looking up at a pair of glaring eyes just under the brim of a hat dripping with sweat.  You hit a serve wide in the deuce court that registers 120mph and as the return zips by your chest missing the opposite sideline by 3 inches, you look over at Baker who is furtively excoriating himself for missing a shot you thought had no business reaching, let alone making.  

That's when you realize that you're in for a long day at the office.

It suddenly dawned on me having watched Grigor Dimitrov struggle through yet another early and unexpected loss (to Daniel Evans) in this his second season on the mend, and Donald Young snipe and gripe his way past Ernesto Escobedo in the unforgiving heat and humidity of an afternoon in July in Washington, DC, and Sloane Stephens disappearing into the night, performing a kind of seppuku of unforced errors against a resilient, but underwhelming Risa Ozaki.  

What exactly is competitiveness? 

Is it the ability to conjure up the energy to run down every drop shot, stretch for every volley, reach for every return?  Is it the ability to raise one's game, and hit that essential passing shot or lob when the moment demands it, and all others would wilt under the pressure?  Or is it just a steel will, at once unbreakable and irresistible, the assassin's tool and the protector's aegis, wielded upon request at the very moment is most desired?  

The truth is that it could be one, none or all three of those things.  But Brian Baker makes one thing clear as his competitiveness muscles its way past one more who would deign to block his path.  It's not fist pumping, or shouting, "Come On!" after you've (finally) done something right.  It's not yelling at that pitiable coterie of supplicants that's still following you around the world as the clock winds down on your window of opportunity. It's not that crumpled mangled mess of carbon fiber and cured animal intestines that used to vaguely resemble a racquet, before it was sacrificed to the God of misplaced anger and bitterness.

Whatever it is not, one thing is certain:  it's quiet...just like Brian Baker.

2016 CITI OPEN DAY 3: STILL SAMANTHA

The first story from Day 3 at the 2016 Citi Open was the one story that nobody can get ahead of or control the narrative:  the weather.  Mother nature decided the DC area needed a cooling off period absolutely dumped buckets of water on the William H. Fitzgerald tennis center for about 90 minutes.  

Sam Stosur and Yannina Wickmayer, a favorite and a dark horse for the title, were done and dusted before the rains came, with Stosur dispatching of a resurgent Alla Kudryavtseva in straights sets in less than an hour (including a second set bagel), while the Belgian took longer to do the job over American Madison Brengle, who will be disappointed that she wasn't able to break her opponents shaky serve more frequently.  Wickmayer saved 2 of the 4 break points she faced, but Brengle was broken 7 times on 11 break points, which turned out to be the difference in the match.

Stosur, on the other hand, started slowly, but finished strongly.  After finding her feet and her forehand late in the set, she proceeded to break Kudryavtseva one critical time in the first set, before obliterating her in the second - needing just one break point to do the job three times on the trot.  Stosur, the top seed this year, looked relaxed and comfortable from the end of the first set, to the moment she entered the press conference tent.  That is until the rains came, preceded by what felt like gale force winds, appeared to make her more nervous than her opponent. Skittishly glancing around her as questions were drowned out by the sounds of the atmospheric pressure dropping precipitously, Stosur seemed in as much of a hurry in the press conference, as she did in the second set.

I asked Stosur about her forehand, which is a modern forehand more typical of the ATP than the WTA, and hit with the kind of spin and depth that has made some opponents attempt to pay her a compliment by suggesting that she played like a man.  My curiosity surrounded whether there was an evolution to that stroke production or was it something that she and her coach decided, and her answer confirmed my expectation with a twist.  She said she had always had a compact take back on the forehand, but that it had been a very wristy and spinny shot that often landed short, rife for abuse by her opponents.  The revolution began 8 years ago, when she couldn't hit a decent forehand at Wimbledon to save her life, and her coach at the time (presumably David Taylor) convinced her that she needed to make changes to flatten the stroke to finish her opponents off in the rallies, particularly on short balls.  So there was indeed a revolution to her forehand, but it was to make the shot flatter and more penetrating than it had been, which is the opposite of what her forehand is known for.

Next up on the merry-go-round was Alexander Zverev who, despite being very polite, and very poised in his responses, did come across as being every so slightly less patient with his time than he had been the year before.  To be fair, Zverev had just finished a practice set with Steve Johnson, one where the pace and penetration of his forehand was as impressive as it had been during his practice with Monfils on Friday, and in all likelihood had a very necessary dinner and evening with the physio waiting for him.  His answers were to the point, without much elaboration, and though affable, he was very serious, and dare I say, substantially more self-assured than last year.  

For example, he was asked about the upcoming Olympics, initially he responded with enthusiasm and elaborated on the honor and rarity of the event.  But the second question concerning the same subject, appeared to irritate him mildly.  Born of Russian immigrants to Germany, in the context of the Olympics, the question was asked whether he felt more Russian or German.  He began his response by bemoaning (in the general direction of the moderator for some reason) that he felt like this question was asked in every press conference.  After getting that off his chest, he explained that he is 100% German, as German as it gets, and that the only thing that Russian about him is his parents.  

I asked him whether he sets goals for himself in terms of his career progression, and if his performance and accomplishments had so far met his expectations.  He initially responded by saying that he didn't really set goals for himself, then proceeded to say he targeted getting in and staying in the top 40, that he is pleased with career progression, being seeded a majors and such, but that he is still ambitious and expects more of himself.  When asked which of the crop of his American contemporaries impressed him, he mentioned that he had grown accustomed to playing his former junior rivals (like the lurking Taylor Fritz), and that he was most impressed by Francis Tiafoe, who plays very aggressively and goes for his shots.  Incredibly, he bookended that assessment with the perfectly logical, but altogether unexpected qualifier (from a 20 year old, anyway) that "...he's still young and has more to learn."  

From the mouths of babes.

Speaking of Taylor Fritz, the newlywed took the court in the penultimate match on the stadium against Dudi Sela, and managed to break the Israeli veteran in his second service game, the third game of the match, and after only 7 minutes.  It was a straight set victory, but he didn't have it all his own way - Fritz had to show some steel, and that grenade launcher that doubles as a serve did him well as he saved 7 break points to seal the victory.

Daniel Evans booked his place in the second round with an impressive dismantling of Benjamin Becker, who probably suffered some measure of fatigue playing for the 3rd day in a row.  Evans was the better player in the two key departments of the serve and return, and after his initial break of Becker's serve never looked back.  Becker hit 4 aces which which could have been a pivotal statistic, had he not negated the value thereof with 4 double faults.  Evans only made half his first serves, but won 85% of those points, whereas Becker was more like to miss, and less likely to win his first serve points (46% and 65% respectively) which resulted in getting losing 4 of the 8 break points he faced.  Where Evans really made the difference was his second serve points, winning an impressive 65% of them, and not facing a single break point in 8 service games.

That ironically sets up a tricky encounter in the second round against Grigor Dimitrov, whom he practiced with on Friday (and would have met at Wimbledon had he found his way past some Swiss fellow, and if Dimitrov had overcome Johnson).  At that time, he seemed to struggle for rhythm and consistency for the better part of an hour.  But if you just love the 1-handed backhand, that match will do much to satisfy your aesthetic preferences.

Denis Kudla continued an unfortunate record of profligacy at his home tournament - he has played 7 matches at the Citi Open (in singles and doubles) and lost all 7.  He started the match strongly, with deep penetrating rallies where both he and Millman seemed to be testing the resolve of the other.  But Millman prevailed in the end with the wind at his back in the second after breaking twice in the first.  

All results from day 1 are at this link...

2016 CITI OPEN: DRAWING US IN

The draw for the Citi Open of 2016 is out, and the match ups that will initiate the gentleman's hand to hand combat in this "jeu de paume" are an inspiring mixture of intrigue, sporting curiosity and personal drama.  Having moved the date of the tournament up on the calendar to accommodate the many players who will go to the Rio Olympics, the tournament has already suffered the consequences of a glut of competitions that have had to be adjusted for the quadrennial event.  Juan Martin del Potro and the Bryan Brothers have already withdrawn, and the effects on the American duo of John Isner and Jack Sock, who suffered a shock defeat at the hands of the Croatians, remains to be seen.

Top seed John Isner (mercifully) benefits from a definite 1st round bye, and likely preferable scheduling, before taking on the winner of a match up of scrappers who will vie for the opportunity to dethrone the presumptive king.  James Duckworth, the Australian grinder who unceremoniously dismissed a fatigued Ryan Harrison last year, will have another American to deal with, the altogether (overly) generous Tim Smycek, who famously offered to replay a critical point in Australia against Rafael Nadal, for no (good) reason.  Smycek has excellent hands, moves like a lynx, and is (typically for an American) uber-competitive.  If he can find his way past Duckworth, he will have Kei Nishikori's model of victory in last year's final to emulate, if he is to do the unthinkable and advance to the 3rd round.

Everybody's favorite Cypriot, 15th seed Marcos Baghdatis, will also have a first round bye, with a chance to face John Millman or (the current version of Paul Goldstein - a really local favorite), Denis Kudla, who hails from across the river in Arlington, and as a junior made the daily Holden Caufield subway trek to the Junior Tennis Champions Center in College Park, Maryland, on his way to place at the table of professional tennis.  Although not as fantastical as that of Leon Vessels, Kudla's journey to the Citi Open is no less inspiring.  He immigrated from the Ukraine as a baby and was featured in a 2010 Documentary Who's Next.  In it, it was revealed the extent of his obsession with tennis.  As an 11-year old, with arguable assistance from his from his architect father, designed his very own tennis center.  Kudla's parents spoke no English when they escaped the the dissolution of the USSR on Denis' first birthday in 1993 - quite an enduring gift.

If Ryan Harrison can conjure up the same grit and firepower that saw him through the qualifiers into the main draw last year, he will have his hands full with Stephan Robert, a Frenchman known more for his prowess in doubles than singles.  Harrison doesn't suffer fools when it comes to competitiveness, and whereas in the past he has succumbed to both the light and dark sides of that trait, but he is still (relatively) young, still has a missile launcher for a right arm, and has quite a good head to head record against many of the players in the draw.  The past is not necessarily prologue, and Harrison will both take solace and caution in that truism, for if he is to become the player so many have hoped and expected him to be, there is no time better than the present.  My guess is Robert will have his hands full.  Either one of them will have a grinder of the first order awaiting them in the second round, in Victor Troicki.  If he has recovered his vocal cords following his unseemly (albeit "technically" justified) diatribe against Damiano Torella (for which he was duly fined $10,000 for unsporting conduct), he will want to save his breath for Harrison who is unlikely to go quietly himself, into the night.

In one of the most fascinating first round encounters, one of this author's favorite players on tour, (the Emperor H)Adrian Mannarino will take his well educated hands, and nimble footwork, into battle against one of the most powerful young guns in world, Francis Tiafoe.  Another DC native who also plied his trade at the JTCC, Tiafoe's opportunity came from his own immigrant father who worked there as a maintenance man. He debuted here in 2014, where he lost to Evgeny Donskoy, but anyone watching that match would have been left in no doubt as to the potential of this human power unit, who burned 100mph+ forehands so frequently that the feat began to lose its luster by the end of the match.  

Assuming he has addressed his serve, some dubious shot selection and his footwork, there is hope in the nation's capital that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship with the game.  The winner of this match, mercilessly faces Steve Johnson, an American gaining such a reputation as a bare-knuckle brawling competitor, that he is seeded 5th, and my darkhorse to make his first ATP final in his homeland.  He is coming off his first ATP title, an unexpected, but not inexplicable victory on the plushy grass courts of the English midlands (Birmingham) over Pablo Cuevas, a 2nd round loser here last year.

With any luck, the Real Bernard Tomic will appear to make good on his opportunity lost here last year, as he smiled and joked his way to a 3rd round loss to the aforementioned (Trojan) dark horse.  You never know what you're going to get in the way of competitiveness and drive from Tomic, such is the burden placed on a (still very) young man from a country with a (still very) deep tradition of tennis nobility.  But I would recommend setting a reminder on your calendar to witness for yourself some of the best hands in tennis, his second round match up against the winner of the yankee doodle duel between Donald Young and 20-year old Ernesto Escobedo.  Rumor has it, Escobedo's two-handed backhand is every bit as deadly as the left-handed swing of his (no relation...probably because that Ernesto Escobedo was a figment of Tom Clancy's imagination) namesake in "Clear and Present Danger".  Having come through the crucible of expectations for American teenagers in the dog-eat-anything world of professional tennis, I'm sure Donald will have some wise words of advice for his opponent...after the match, that is.

(Dr.) Ivo Karlovic, the esteemed professor in the art of "making it rain", fresh off his draining victory of Gilles Mueller in Newport, will get a first round bye, no doubt sharpening the blade of his sword as he awaits the winner of the Mesomorph, Sam Groth, and the drumbeat of (Mr.) Brian Baker.  Groth's mammoth recorded 163mph delivery, will serve him well, even if he winds up on the recently repainted Court 1 where last year, he hit a serve that hit the tape...and was still record at 156mph.  The fencing is kind of old, so I would not recommend standing behind Baker as he attempts to return that howitzer of a serve.  Having said that, Baker's return of serve is one of the strength's of his game, and gives him a fighting chance to blunt the path of one behemoth to another.  Baker's most enduring and endearing quality to a tennis amateur (in the classical sense of the word) is his resourcefulness, his tennis IQ and his hands.  The combination of the three make him just the kind of player others would prefer to avoid, but I'm not going to miss that encounter.

Grigor Dimitrov is seeded and will receive a bye into the second round, although he's been hard at work here on his game, including a one-hour practice session Friday against a possible second round opponent in Daniel Evans.  That would be a treat for those who just can't get enough of the 1-handed backhand, and spontaneous injections of pace into otherwise cagey rallies.  Of course, Evans would have to make it past Benjamin Becker, the last man to defeat Andre Agassi on the ATP tour, himself a cagey veteran who made his way through the qualifiers, and replaces Tommy Haas who, for years, was typically the oldest German(/American) in the draw.  If Dimitrov can navigate his way through to the 3rd round, he may encounter a dejected Jack Sock, who will have to summon reserves of competitiveness to atone for his Davis Cup debacle against Borna Coric.  Fresh and fit, Sock would have been a co-dark horse with Johnson, but as it is now, I would credit him with a herculean effort if he were to simply justify his seed.

 

Alexander (the Great) Zverev, who sports a hellenic flock of sea gulls under (and over) what comes across as a wreath (but is actually just a head band) is a good bet to go deep in this tournament.  I'm always suspicious of last minute entrants, but he too has been here since at least Friday, practicing on that day on the stadium court with Monfils, and seems motivated to do well.  Zverev would face the winner of a 1st round tete-a-tete between Dudi Sela and Taylor Fritz.  While I enjoy the (altogether necessary for his survival) ingenuity and improvisation of Sela's game, I would relish a chance to see these young starlets compete for a place in the 3rd round.  Fritz could overpower Sela, but would find it difficult to do the same in the next round.  My money would be on Zverev who seems to have Fritz's number dating back to their junior careers.

Another potential match up, that might qualify for the circus or an NBA game, is between Kevin Anderson, the man who nearly did last year at Wimbledon, what Sam Querrey managed to do this year, and the winner of the match between Reilly Opelka and Malik Jaiziri.  Assuming Opelka is able to bludgeon his way through the wily Tunisian (who had never trained with weights until this year - a testament to his immense talent, which has hopefully not been wasted in its entirety) the 2nd round encounter might be the tallest in the history of the Citi Open.  Opelka, who is listed at 7'0" (which is frankly just ridiculous) won the Wimbledon Junior title last year (which was very nearly a part of an American grand slam), would actually tower over Anderson, who at 6'8" would make the total height on display 164 inches.  That's a hell of a lot of leverage.

Luxembourg hero Gilles Mueller, smarting from his loss to Karlovic in the Newport Final, is rewarded for his renewal with a seeding and a bye to the 2nd round, where he will face the winner of Nishioka Yoshihito and Ivan Dodig, the doe-eyed doubles specialist who initiated the stunning reversal of fortune in the Davis Cup tie against the US in Portland, by partnering Cilic in the defeat of the Bryan Brothers.  Mueller, a purveyor of one of the best lefty slice serves, which curiously appears to be most effective when placed up the "T", was the guy who stole Roddick's mojo in 2005.  That same year, he also defeated Rafa Nadal in the 2nd round at Wimbledon.  This should have come as no surprise to Citi Open historians, who would note that he defeated Agassi in the semi final in 2004, before ruining the marquee match up with Lleyton Hewitt in the final (who prevailed in straight sets for his one and only Citi Open title).

Benoit Paire awaits the winner of Jared Donaldson and his compatriot Vincent Millot, who may very well have the most extreme forehand grip in the world, one that would make Alberto Berasategui proud.  It's so far over on the grip, one wonders if he'd be better off rotating the racquet in the same direction for both the forehand and the backhand...it'd be a shorter trip.  Donaldson, yet another American teenager in the draw, has not received the kind of attention that Fritz has, but in the long run, I like his fundamentals more.  His footwork is reminiscent of Steffi Graf, his backhand is compact and effective, if not aesthetically appealing, and while I would recommend a smaller take back on the forehand, and a diminished reliance on the reverse forehand from the center of the court, the way he throws his body into that stroke reminds me of Jimmy Connors at his ball-busting best.  He appears to be on the verge of throwing his racquet across the net with every desperate lunge into that stroke.  Having impressed many with his entertaining (for all the right reasons) encounter against Monfils at the US Open in 2014, Donaldson is yet another reason that the light at the end of the American tennis tunnel, could indeed be an approaching train of supplicants to the throne.

The aforementioned Djokovic slayer, Sam Querrey, calmly awaits another American, the result of the curious (if not unfortunate) pairing of Alex Kuznetsov and Bjorn Fratangelo.  Although he is not related to Mike Fratangelo (the form coach of the Atlanta Hawks), Bjorn is only slight taller, which has made it difficult for him to make good on the potential he showed by beating Dominic Thiem for the Junior title at Roland Garros in 2011.  Fortunately for him, his opponent, Kuznetsov, equally vertically challenged, may very well be even more spindly.  I may pop over to see that second round match with Querrey, if nothing else, to see if Querrey could drop 10 aces in a row all over again.

  

(The other) Alexander (the Great) Dolgopolov awaits the winner of Victor Estrella Bourgos and Jordan Thompson.  The latter is an Australian who bravely stood in the canon's mouth for 4 & 1/2 hours attempting to return the serve of Ivo Karlovic at Roland Garros this year - making the most of a wildcard earned mostly on the back of his best year to date that included his first tour level ATP match win and a Challenger title in China.  He lost to Karlovic 12-10 in the fifth, but the effort was both brave and impressive - the only inches he gave to his gargantuan opponent that day were the 10 inches in height.  His opponent, is a crafty Dominican who typically brings a large contingent of supporters with him, and has one of the bigger forehands on tour.  However, like Ken Rosewall before him, Burgos has never seen a backhand that he didn't want to slice, and may need to figure out a way to come over one or two if he is to improve on his second round loss to the towering inferno of John Isner's flame throwing serve.

Dolgopolov, the 2012 champion (the last Olympic year) took full advantage of that depleted field, and won the biggest title of his career over a resurgent Tommy Haas (who is sadly no longer with us...at this tournament that is, he's still alive!).  I've always enjoyed the sheer maniacal physicality of Dolgopolov's game, and since I don't think the long-term prospects of being able to do what he does are good (if you've seen his serve and forehand, you'll know what I mean) it's good to see him bounding about the grounds here like a Roe-Deer in the Ukraine.

Borna Coric will impress me very much if he can recover from an emotional weekend in Oregon, and justify his seeding by overcoming the winner of Sugita Yuichi and Vasek Pospisil.  Pospisil was the 2014 finalist here, this despite being less known for his singles exploits than his illustrious doubles partner.  2016 has not been kind to this kind Canadian who glides about the baseline as easily as a man his size can, and this would be a nice way to start a recovery of the remainder of his season.  But he'll have to get through an exceptionally competitive Yuichi, who's coming off a grass court victory over Taylor Fritz, to do it, and the popular teen ager from Croatia who will have no American fans (old enough to drink) on his side, given what he heroically did in Oregon to one Mr. Sock.

The final places in the draw go to Gael Monfils, the flamboyant Frenchman left off the Davis Cup team that went to the Czech Republic and kept the dream alive of another night in Lyon, seeded 2nd and shorn of his infamous ungainly mane of locks.  With any luck, he will also be shorn of any desire to entertain at the expense of competing, and hopefully he will also do his on court interviews in English.  He awaits the winner of Randy Liu, who won a Challenger title on grass in England before Wimbledon this year, is probably the 3rd most famous player in the draw to beat Andy Roddick at a major (Wimbledon in 2010), and is in all likelihood the most famous athlete outside of Chinese Taipei from Chinese Taipei, and yet another American, Austin Krajicek.  It may surprise you that he plays for the Stars and Stripes, given that he is a distant cousin of 1996 Wimbledon Champion Richard Krajicek and an even more distant cousin of Michaella Krajicek (Richard's half-sister).  My money's on Lu in the first round, and Monfils in the second...an inspired pick, I know.

Well, that's probably everything you'd want to know (and then some) about the Men's Draw at the Citi Open this year!

THANK YOU CITI OPEN: JOHN HARRIS

I picked up my press pass at the Citi Open yesterday, and as always, I just couldn't resist the opportunity to get a sneak preview of the players that will make this the place to be for any self-respecting tennis enthusiast in the Washington, DC area over the next 10 days.  The joy of coming to this tournament, for me, is as much in watching the players practice, as it is watching the matches, which can go so quickly if one of the two combattants fails to play his part.  Sure enough, having ambled over to the Grandstand court, I encountered Caroline Wozniacki working out with her father, who like Richard Williams before him, has overcome the paucity of any true tennis pedigree of his own, to turn his daughter into one of the best players in the world.  Among other things, he had her working on pattern play, service return and first strike shot placement, and the old "hit the can" with your serve routine - only the can this time was a white towel (she hit it once, by the way).  Kind of makes you wonder what the "professional" coaches are doing, but I digress.

Following their workout, the court was taken over by Daniel Evans, his coach, and the coach-less Grigor Dimitrov.  Now this was fun to watch:  as an admirer and exponent of the 1-handed backhand, here I had two of the most aesthetically appealing in the game to watch.  Evans, having just come off being manhandled by one Roger Federer at Wimbledon in the 3rd round, actually appeared to be a little off his game, by my count committing about 3 times as many unforced errors as his partner for the day.  What struck me about their hit, which became fairly intense within the first 10 minutes, was the difference between talent and technique, and what the combination of the two allows a player to do that is beyond one who clearly has one but is relatively lacking in the other.

Evans has, by all accounts, exceptional hand-eye coordination and very good hands - he's very talented.  He can do things with a racquet that is beyond your average hacker...including professional hackers.  And from time to time, he can go nuclear with that forehand of his, in a way that makes the racquet look more like a frying pan as his hands come through the point of contact.  But it comes at a cost, when the timing required to pull this off escapes him, he is as likely to hit the back fence as the baseline.  More often than not, if you train your eye on his follow through, rather than the ball, you can see that he's hitting off his back foot.  Dimitrov, on the other hand, hits every forehand in front of his body with good weight transfer from the back foot to the front.  He stays down on the stroke, which allows him to hit with more spin, net clearance, and depth - hence the relatively low frequency of unforced errors.  They went through the standard warm-up cycle, and finished playing a 7-point tie break that Dimitrov won ironically hitting two aces wide in the ad court, after missing that serve in the warm up about 7 times in a row.  I guess practice really does make perfect.

It's worth mentioning that while Evans exited stage left with his coach after an hour, Dimitrov played another hour with another player (whose name escapes me and Leon Vessels) who does not appear to be in the tournament, but seems to be a popular hitting partner at this venue.  Last year I saw him hitting with a number of players, men and women, and this year, after sparring with Dimitrov, he moved to the stadium to hit with a WTA player, and ironically was asked by observing children for autographs, while they ignored his ignominious partner.  Dimitrov, toiling in anonymity, seemed to enjoy himself, as he always does when on the court, belied the presumed depression one might expect from a player whose star has fallen so far in the last couple of years. After a meteoric rise to the top 10 in 2014, coming within a rat's ass of making the O2, and playing a Wimbledon semi-final, this year he found himself unseeded and vanquished in the 3rd round by 2-time NCAA champion American Steve Johnson.  I find Dimitrov's committment and pure joy at being on the court to be a good sign that my prediction, that he will win a major at some point in his career, to still be well within his reach.

During the practice with Evans, Dimitrov noted that the kick serve in the North end of the Grandstand court bites a hell of a lot more than the other courts, and according to him, did him no favors last year when he lost to Johnson following two rain delays and two court changes.  The high American('s) twist serve to the single handed backhand was more than he could handle, and if he meets the Trojan man this year, on that court, he will have to figure out a way to neutralize that serve as a weapon, lest he meet the same fate.

I also had a chance to watch Alexander Zverev hit with Gael Monfils on the stadium court, where I was really impressed by the liquid power of the spindly German (by way of Russia) - a last minute wild-card entrant into the field after being dumped out of a home tournament in Hamburg.  There's just no substitute for being able to inject pace into the rally at any given moment, and I observed the rhythm in their rallies to be decidedly in his favor by something like a 2-3 margin (two counts for his shot to reach Monfils, 3 counts for those of the Frenchman to reach him).  Monfils was more frequently the player hitting late in their exchanges, which will do nothing to turnaround what has been a less than inspiring 2016 for him.

As usual, it's impossible to know whether he will be more focused on thrilling the crowd than winning, but I plan to make a special visit to his first match.  However, if I were a betting man, I'd put my money on Zverev to go further in the tournament and/or win it all, if he can overcome the fatigue he must be feeling having played two warm up tournaments before Wimbledon, making the quarterfinal before getting it handed to him by absent the number 1 seed here at the Citi Open Thomas Berdych and then a warm-down event in his native Germany on clay.

Finally, I watched a practice with Irina Falconi, her second in succession, having been (wo)manhandled in a practice set by Francoise Abanda (the Canadian siren with gams like a daddy-long legs, who's been given a wild-card into the qualifying tournament) against American Christina McHale.  McHale, the New Jersey native who waddles around the court like a long-legged penguin, but hits one of the easiest and cleanest forehands in the women's tour, is a dark-horse to go deep here as well.  Her modern forehand, produced with the racquet head remaining on the right side of her profile, generating torque and deceptive acceleration as it catches up with her hands at the point of contact, is not the best athlete in the draw, but following her very competitive encounter with Serena Williams at SW19, appears to be playing well, fit as a fiddle and ready to win her first WTA title just as her compatriot Sloane Stephens did here last year.

As I watched these two going through their paces, an older gentleman quietly ambled over in my direction and asked, as though soliciting a secret, if McHale was the woman who did so well against Serena Williams at Wimbledon this year.  I confirmed as much, and this initiated a conversation about tennis in general that surprised me in so more ways that one.  He noted that a girl on the far court looked about 12 years old, and remarked how young the players were able to start today, and how different it was versus past eras, because of the equipment.  He asked me how long I'd been coming to the tournament, and I proudly told him 30+ years, to which he replied that he'd been there since the beginning.

Since the beginning?  The 1969 beginning?

It turned out the gentleman was none other than the John Harris, who co-founded the tournament with Donald Dell (and Steve Potts) all those years ago.  Honestly, my knees buckled.  I couldn't help myself, and asked him a series of questions that he patiently answered.  The best match he'd ever seen?  The consolation match in 1971 between a 19-year old Jimmy Connors and a 20-year old Eddie Dibbs, which he said almost nobody saw, but was better than the final between Ken Rosewall and Marty Riessen.  Rosewall, at the time of his victory in 1971, was the reigning US Open champion, having defeated Tony Roche at Forest Hills the year before. But he didn't defend his title due to the growing conflict between the WCT and the ILTF, which centered around the struggle for control over the conditions of who entered the tournament and who didn't.  Despite the Cold War at the dawn of the open era, he was free to take the title in DC, rather routinely, over his veteran American opponent.

All this was news to me.

And to the question of why the surface of clay was chosen for this tournament, preceding the US Open (which at the time was played on grass) Harris explained that in those days, the summer US circuit consisted of actually two sub-circuits. The clay court series in places like Cincinnatti, Indianapolis and Chicago, that they wanted to be a part of to facilitate a better field of players.  Once the summer US clay court season had concluded, the focus moved on to grass, with tournaments in Newport, Boston and finally culimnating at Forest Hills.  In fact, the brief interlude of the US Open switching to clay from 1975 to 1977 had essentially spelled the deathknell of the summer US grass court season, which had been in place for some 85 years, before all the tournaments in the US transitioned to hard courts.

He said that he had been a collegiate and amateur player himself, but that he had never been able to effectively compete against Donald Dell, who was himself a 3-time all American at Yale, and NCAA finalist in 1959.  He said that as good as Dell was, Arthur Ashe was on another level as a player, something that is frequently forgotten about the man...a testament to the exceptional human being that he was, and humanitarian that he became.  

Speaking further about Ashe, who along with Harris and Dell had years before cooked up the notion of an integrated tournament in the nation's Capitol, Harris sat on the Men's Professional Tennis Council representing the US tournaments, alongside him as he represented the players, when he first heard of the Williams sisters.  Harris, with great humility, admitted to me that he didn't think the girls had a chance, not because of their ability (which was obvious) but because their father had prevented them from playing the standard US junior tennis circuit.  After proclaiming as much to Ashe, Ashe himself (who died 6 years before Serena won the US Open in 1999) predicted that both of them would be world champions and would be the first of many from the black American community if the USTA played their cards right.  Sadly it hasn't, which Harris admitted had never been the intention of the WTEF, which owns and operates the Citi Open, and donates nearly every penny to local education, and not necessarily the development of tennis champions.

Speaking of the Williams sisters, Harris told me a story of how he had stayed down the hall from the same hotel as the Williams sisters in 1998 in Australia.  He knew then that the Williams' parents were special because the mother, Oracene, would get up at 7:00am every morning to do the laundry. Why?  Because Venus didn't have any sponsors that would provide her with new clothes to wear before every match; so the depth of humility and commitment was evident. One can understand their persistent skepticism of the tennis establishment, given that in 1998 they still couldn't find a single clothing sponsor that could be bothered to throw some free clothes in the direction of a 17-year old girl who had already reached #22 in the world and had made the final at Sydney a week before one of the 4 biggest tournaments in the world.

How things have changed since.

It was an honor and a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a man who, unwittingly, is one of the reasons that I fell in love with tennis.  This tournament was the first time I'd seen tennis played in person by professionals, and ever since has been my Mecca for 33 years, the place I come to fall in love with the game all over again, and will continue to as long as air fills my lungs.

For this, and for so much more I say, thank you John Harris.

ADDENDUM:  Dimitrov's hitting partner, and the man whose autograph had been sought by those kids watching hit in the stadium court was Leon Vessels, whose history with the Citi Open is as curious as it is inspiring.