Let's be honest - his is not the most aesthetically appealing game in tennis. Not many will watch him play and wonder how he does it because it is as obvious as his game. An outstanding first and second serve that serves him well whether or not he's under duress, a heavy forehand that clears the net with plenty of margin, but still pushes his opponent behind the baseline, and the option to hit a two-handed backhand for penetration, or a slice for defense, gives Johnson a lot of options to compete. And competing is what the man does best. Just ask Bernard Tomic, Grigor Dimitrov and Jack Sock - three celebrated and talented opponents this week at the Citi Open whose heads rolled off the block of his guillotine.
You might not know it from watching him play, but Johnson, is a two-time NCAA singles champion from USC. In 2011 he took care of the much heralded Rhyne Williams of the University of Tennessee, and in 2012, Eric Quigley of the University of Kentucky. Both of his opponents play a style which is more in line with what one might associate with an ATP tour-ready game - and neither has been heard from since. That's because neither of them has the one element in their game that Johnson has in spades - 100% pure American steel.
If Johnson struggles coming over the backhand, he can slice it deep pushing the ball through the court and force his opponent to generate all his own pace while retreating. This is a skill that few players possess, even in the professional ranks, and it has been the one element of his game that has taken Johnson further up the international ladder in the last two years, than any of his more illustrious contemporaries. The serve is by far the strongest part of his game, if not for the pure pace of it, then certainly from the spin, accuracy and reliability. Aside from the occasional blip, like the double fault that cost him the first set against Australia's Bernard Tomic, Johnson's serve is as difficult to attack as any in the game. Hit with an exceptional amount of spin, giving him the option to attack from the baseline, or follow it to net, it is laboriously constructed, but it is a labor of love. The options available to him with the serve mean that even if a player gets a beat on one delivery, there are three or four other reliable ones that he can go to to keep the returner honest.
But most significantly in his arsenal, Johnson doesn't suffer fools when it comes to competing - unlike some players who seem to find solace in putting in a good effort, he's not here to play the straight man to someone else's punchline. The number next to his name in the draw is a meaningless to Johnson as it is deceptive to his opponents. A talented European who thinks that he might have an easy time of it with Johnson's gripping an groaning with every shot, will find himself on the wrong end of a junkyard dog's bite. And while others may prefer the streamlined grace of a greyhound, gliding about the court looking for space between the rain drops to place their shots, Johnson would just as readily put a hole in your chest, as the back fence...either way, as long as he wins the point. And boy, is he winning a lot of points lately.
An oddity of his career is that he is currently coached by a player with whom he might have teamed at USC, had they been born two years closer to each other. In the brief period that Peter Lucassen has worked directly with him, Johnson appears to have come to terms with the likelihood that success as a professional will depend less on his ability to dominate his opponents, than his ability not to be dominated. "Go ahead and try", he says, "it ain't gonna happen - not today, not tomorrow...not ever." And in a game driven towards homeostasis, Johnson's margin, athleticism, and dogged determination not to concede even the least significant of points, gives him the edge over the litany of pampered former junior phenoms who are learning the hard way that talent will only get you so far. Johnson does not appear to suffer from such delusions, and it is the strength of that acceptance, and the game he has constructed to make the most of it, that has left him one of two Americans left standing at the Citi Open.
I was struck by Johnson's match with Bernard Tomic the other day - though most were there to catch a glimpse of l'Enfant Terrible of Australian tennis, Johnson won the majority of the crowd over, not just because he is American, but because he plays with such American values: nobody cares how you get to the top, as long as you get there. With support from the crowd irrelevant to him, we probably felt better for giving him support than he did for receiving it - such is the depth of his concentration. Time and again, as Tomic tried to engage the funny bone of the intimate audience of Grandstand 1, and even on occasion his opponent, Johnson responded the only way he knows how - with a glare that would make Josie Wales do a double take, and a ferocity of resistance that might have saved Cassidy and Sundance.
The loose fitting clothes, the ever present baseball cap, and the simultaneously stiff and languid gait, belies a physical force to his game that leaves audiences and his opponents shaking their head in admiration. What drives someone to fight, scratch and struggle as he does? He doesn't appear to enjoy it. His is a frosty disposition, which seems to have no patience for even a single point lost, and if you didn't know any better, Johnson's resolute competitiveness almost appears masochistic. The truth is something more pleasantly sinister - he is, in fact, a sadist, prepared to put his opponent through the most miserable two hours of his life, if he wants to prevail. In doing so, he may find himself with nothing left in the next round, and if the roles are reversed, and Johnson wins, he'll do it all again to the next sucker who takes him for granted.
Perhaps two years of winning the NCAA championships has prepared Johnson in a way that breezing through the junior circuit, and earning the easy money that comes to so many of the Bolletieri brethren who show promise and turn professional before their fruits have ripened, has not. Perhaps, the education he received in college, including the commitment to learn from those who know more than him, the sense of independence that living on your own with nobody to tell you to go here and there or eat this and that, and the physical strength to break his body down every day, and build it back up the next (just a little bit better-stronger-faster each time), is exactly the kind of education that all of his contemporaries who eschewed the pursuit of knowledge for the pursuit of early glory, are missing out on.
I don't know how good Steve Johnson will be - he may win some tournaments, he may reach the top 20, and he may be a part of the hallowed US Davis Cup team. But one thing is for certain about Steve Johnson - the most admirable thing about him - if there's a stone unturned, he'll find it...and fire it right between your eyes.
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Saturday, August 8, 2015
Friday, August 7, 2015
CITI OPEN: KING KEI vs GOLIATH...THE GIANT (KILLING GIANT) IS SLAIN
King Kei slew the Australian Goliath today, in the first quarterfinal of the Citi Open at Rock Creek Park in Washington, DC. The match pitted one of the best biggest serves in the game, against one of the best returns in the game. And like the key in most matches on grass, where the serve is universally assumed to be the deciding factor, it was the player (ostensibly) bringing the least to the table in this regard, that prevailed.
Finding himself in a spot of trouble in his third service game of the first set, with an outstanding backhand return winner up the line from Nishikori, Groth bore down and served an ace. Then in a neutral rally in the next point, after getting pushed wide, Groth hit his best backhand of the match: a crosscourt backhand winner that left Nishikori flailing. To win the game at 40-15, he hit a comfortable 117mph wide serve in the deuce court, before finishing the point with an inside out forehand volley off of a heavy cross court return from Nishikori. After winning both of his first service games without a hint of his improved overall game, Groth sent a message to Nishikori that, even without an ace from him, it wasn't going to all the rising sun warrior's way.
Standing 6 inches shorter than his gargantuan opponent, it was impressive to me the way Nishikori's technique on nearly every shot was, not only superior to Groth's in its production, but in effect. Whereas Groth may have had the liberty of biding his time against his previous three opponents, before bludgeoning his way to net, that was not the case today. The irony of that condition is that, in many ways, the fewer decisions Groth has to make in the point, the better he does, and would it were not for the significant gap in quality between the two, the directive to shorten the points as quickly as possible, may have served the behemoth better than it in fact did.
In his fourth service game, after two solid returns, and three errors from Groth, he hit two aces, then off of a second serve, Nishikori chubbed the return, which Groth handled with an inside out forehand volley, eliciting an error. A few points, and some beautiful first volleys later, Groth faced a fifth break point in the proverbial 7th game, and after double-faulting in the deuce court, Nishikori promptly jumped on the opportunity with an outstanding return off a poorly placed first serve up the T, and eventually ran away with the set.
There are always questions about the extent to which a player with an enormous serve can benefit from it in the modern game, because the string and racquet technology frequently allow the returner, if they are sufficiently gifted in hand eye coordination, to put the ball back at the server's feet before he's reached his optimal court position to defend the net. Today, as soon as Nishikori got a beat on Groth's first serve, anything less than a perfectly placed bomb was returned with interest, and Groth was ironically unable to handle the pace of his own serve. Despite being up 0-30 in the game following his break, Groth was unable to get to net quickly enough, either in the rally, off of his approach shots, or off of his serve, to do what he does best - devour the net with his broad wing span, and massive upper body and lower body strength. Again and again, the quickest hands in tennis were a blur as he burnished a trail of felt whizzing by Groth's ear whenever he got a good look at a pass.
Along the way, Groth amazed us with several 145+ serves up the T, as well as the slider in the ad court that, if his opponent wants to hit it he'll have to make a trip into the deuce court to find it. Groth actually hit a serve 145mph out wide in the ad court, meaning it was in all likelihood 10mph faster up the T. But generally speaking the match, and it's result, never really appeared to be anywhere but on the strings of the #2 seed. Had Groth been able to consult with his coach, he most likely would have counseled him to stop hitting inaccurate flat serves in either court, and concentrate on creating as much movement after the bounce on his serve as possible, with any combination of topspin and slice that he could muster. The fact that Nishikori was more effective on his serve doing just that, makes one wonder how the biggest serve in tennis would fare at 25% less it's top speed, but 25% more spin. It would also have the added benefit of giving him more time to close the net. As it were he had neither, and it cost him a chance at the biggest win of his career and a chance to enter the top 50 for the first time.
For that he'll have to qualify for Montreal - either way, Nishikori won't have that problem.
The second set started in a similar vein, with Groth feeling the pressure of Nishikori's return, by now consistently more effective than in the first, being forced into a number of highly pressured second serves. Early on he was up to the task, holding his serve in the first game after several deuces, but as the match wore on, it felt like a matter of time before the result proceeded to its most natural conclusion. It wasn't until the 5th game of the set (Groth's third service game of the set) that Nishikori actually bothered to hit a lob - the first a topspin offering off the backhand that won him the first point, and a forehand defensive lob, that had enough height to clear row Z, which elongated the point and forced Groth into a tentative half court groundstroke that Nishikori desperately chased down and dropped 12 inches from the Groth's side of the net. Groth should have handled it easily, but the wind got a hold of it, pushed the ball within 6 inches of the on court camera, and disrupted him sufficiently to send the ball long into the open court.
It was at that moment that the match was won, because despite being up one more break point in the set, Groth never really looked like he was in with a chance to break Nishikori - ironic given the disparity in their serves, but fairly obvious given the equally patent disparity in their returns.
It turns out that was the most important, and deciding factor in the match, as it always is in men's tennis.
Finding himself in a spot of trouble in his third service game of the first set, with an outstanding backhand return winner up the line from Nishikori, Groth bore down and served an ace. Then in a neutral rally in the next point, after getting pushed wide, Groth hit his best backhand of the match: a crosscourt backhand winner that left Nishikori flailing. To win the game at 40-15, he hit a comfortable 117mph wide serve in the deuce court, before finishing the point with an inside out forehand volley off of a heavy cross court return from Nishikori. After winning both of his first service games without a hint of his improved overall game, Groth sent a message to Nishikori that, even without an ace from him, it wasn't going to all the rising sun warrior's way.
Standing 6 inches shorter than his gargantuan opponent, it was impressive to me the way Nishikori's technique on nearly every shot was, not only superior to Groth's in its production, but in effect. Whereas Groth may have had the liberty of biding his time against his previous three opponents, before bludgeoning his way to net, that was not the case today. The irony of that condition is that, in many ways, the fewer decisions Groth has to make in the point, the better he does, and would it were not for the significant gap in quality between the two, the directive to shorten the points as quickly as possible, may have served the behemoth better than it in fact did.
In his fourth service game, after two solid returns, and three errors from Groth, he hit two aces, then off of a second serve, Nishikori chubbed the return, which Groth handled with an inside out forehand volley, eliciting an error. A few points, and some beautiful first volleys later, Groth faced a fifth break point in the proverbial 7th game, and after double-faulting in the deuce court, Nishikori promptly jumped on the opportunity with an outstanding return off a poorly placed first serve up the T, and eventually ran away with the set.
There are always questions about the extent to which a player with an enormous serve can benefit from it in the modern game, because the string and racquet technology frequently allow the returner, if they are sufficiently gifted in hand eye coordination, to put the ball back at the server's feet before he's reached his optimal court position to defend the net. Today, as soon as Nishikori got a beat on Groth's first serve, anything less than a perfectly placed bomb was returned with interest, and Groth was ironically unable to handle the pace of his own serve. Despite being up 0-30 in the game following his break, Groth was unable to get to net quickly enough, either in the rally, off of his approach shots, or off of his serve, to do what he does best - devour the net with his broad wing span, and massive upper body and lower body strength. Again and again, the quickest hands in tennis were a blur as he burnished a trail of felt whizzing by Groth's ear whenever he got a good look at a pass.
Along the way, Groth amazed us with several 145+ serves up the T, as well as the slider in the ad court that, if his opponent wants to hit it he'll have to make a trip into the deuce court to find it. Groth actually hit a serve 145mph out wide in the ad court, meaning it was in all likelihood 10mph faster up the T. But generally speaking the match, and it's result, never really appeared to be anywhere but on the strings of the #2 seed. Had Groth been able to consult with his coach, he most likely would have counseled him to stop hitting inaccurate flat serves in either court, and concentrate on creating as much movement after the bounce on his serve as possible, with any combination of topspin and slice that he could muster. The fact that Nishikori was more effective on his serve doing just that, makes one wonder how the biggest serve in tennis would fare at 25% less it's top speed, but 25% more spin. It would also have the added benefit of giving him more time to close the net. As it were he had neither, and it cost him a chance at the biggest win of his career and a chance to enter the top 50 for the first time.
For that he'll have to qualify for Montreal - either way, Nishikori won't have that problem.
The second set started in a similar vein, with Groth feeling the pressure of Nishikori's return, by now consistently more effective than in the first, being forced into a number of highly pressured second serves. Early on he was up to the task, holding his serve in the first game after several deuces, but as the match wore on, it felt like a matter of time before the result proceeded to its most natural conclusion. It wasn't until the 5th game of the set (Groth's third service game of the set) that Nishikori actually bothered to hit a lob - the first a topspin offering off the backhand that won him the first point, and a forehand defensive lob, that had enough height to clear row Z, which elongated the point and forced Groth into a tentative half court groundstroke that Nishikori desperately chased down and dropped 12 inches from the Groth's side of the net. Groth should have handled it easily, but the wind got a hold of it, pushed the ball within 6 inches of the on court camera, and disrupted him sufficiently to send the ball long into the open court.
It was at that moment that the match was won, because despite being up one more break point in the set, Groth never really looked like he was in with a chance to break Nishikori - ironic given the disparity in their serves, but fairly obvious given the equally patent disparity in their returns.
It turns out that was the most important, and deciding factor in the match, as it always is in men's tennis.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
CITI OPEN: RETURN OF THE MESOMORPH - SAM GROTH
There aren't too many countries where tennis is king - maybe France during Roland Garros - but the pervasiveness of the game belies the white underbelly of that persistent question that just won't go away...how good of an athlete is a tennis player anyway? I'm not talking about your weekend warrior, but the real McCoy. Few would question the innate gifts, and athletic prowess of the so-called big 4, but they would not likely (and perhaps unjustly) be considered for anyone's list of the 10 most athletic people on the planet, would they? I've often wondered why. After all, most tennis players have played other sports growing up, and many had to make a choice of which sport to play professionally - Nadal, Federer and Murray all had legitimate shots at playing professional soccer, and at 6'9" John Isner could have taken a basketball scholarship, which would have surprised nobody in his native North Carolina.
But they didn't, and therein lies the rub, in my opinion. You see, in other sports, like football, you have Bo Jackson, Deion Sanders and to a lesser extent John Elway, prove without a shadow of a doubt their qualities as a professional in baseball, and the supreme athleticism of basketball players who've switched to football (like Tony Gonzales), leaves little doubt that this is a viable transition. Hell, even Michael Jordan hit .250 in the minor leagues, and he hadn't played baseball since he was a kid! Now, I have serious doubts as to whether any of these guys could ever pick up a tennis racquet with any hope of turning athletic prowess in their chosen sport, into a fighting chance in tennis - in fact, I don't think a single one of them could.
But it seems that we have, in the broad-shouldered, tatoo-sporting, super-serving, Australian behemoth Sam Groth, an answer to the question of whether tennis players could play other sports professionally, and through him, we could start to have an appreciation for the raw athleticism of tennis players. 50 long years after Ion Tiriac completed, what would today be considered, the altogether unimaginable transition from the 1964 Olympic ice-hockey team of Romania, to the 1969 Davis Cup finalist Romanian team in 1969, we have Groth.
He was a strong junior player - with his partner Andrew Kennaugh of Great Britain, he finished runner up in the 2005 Boy's doubles final to Jessie Levine and Michael Shabaz. A shoulder surgery, failed marriage and an extremely brief stint as an on court coach to his wife Jarmila Gajdosova (who famously told him that day in 2011 at Brisbane not to "...talk to me like a f---ing tourist") saw him burn out from the game and take up Australian Rules football with local second tier power house Vermont Football Club on the outskirts of Melbourne. For those of you who've never seen Australian Rules Football, it's a cross between rugby, and ultimate frisbee, played with a familiarly oblong ball, by athletes that all look like they could either win a slam dunk contest, or at the very least handle themselves if it got messy on the wrong side of town.
Physically, Groth fits in with that crowd just fine.
Upon returning to the game in 2013, he seemed to be uninformed of the changes in the game, that said serve and volley was as dead as the wood racquet, and proceeded to work his way through the challenger and ITF circuits (along the way hitting an ATP record 163 mph serve) until he made his way back into the hallowed territory of the top 100. Last year, he bludgeoned his way into the main draw at the Australian Open, just missed out on the show at Roland Garros, lost a tough 3-setter to Alexander Dolgopolov (a former champion at the Citi Open in 2012) at Wimbledon, and proceeded to make news at the US Open where he lost gallantly to Roger Federer in the second round. Along the way he captured the scalp of his compatriot Marinko Matosevic (himself a full-bodied exponent of the power game) before losing by one break in all three straight sets to the greatest player in the history of the game.
This year, his claim to fame is an unlikely and heroic performance in a Davis Cup cause that appeared entirely lost to the hugely proud and patriotic Australians, when the hopes of the nation, riding on the narrow shoulders of Thanassi Kokkinakis and Nick Kyrigos, were revived by an inspiring doubles performance from Groth, who manifests physiclally, all the grit and determination that is the hallmark of his illustrious, and retiring partner, Lleyton Hewitt. Having obliterated their unfancied rivals from Kazakhstan in the doubles, the pair were so convincing in their performance and temperament, that they usurped their younger teammates in the singles the next day and proceeded to perform a one two-combination that would have made (the Australian) Tommy Burns proud.
This year at the Citi Open, Groth took on and beat Victor Troicki in two tough sets, surprising those who observed the match from the mesh fence behind Court 1 with the frequency with which his serves in the ad court had his Serbian opponent chasing shadows looking for the point of contact in the deuce court, such was the power and spin he imposed on the ball. With deft touch at net, and good skills of anticipation, time and again he defended the net as well as most modern players defend the baseline. He served and volleyed his way to the end result he sought - to neutralize his presumed technical inferiority from the baseline with an unknown dexterity and ease with contortion at net. Along the way he showed off a forehand that at any given moment can put his opponent out of his misery with power and spin, and a backhand which, although frequently hit off the back foot, works just fine when he hits it hard enough to push his opponent behind the baseline...just where he wants him.
It is this unusual combination of girth and nimbleness, reminding this observer of the special skills and talents of a strawberry blonde wunderkind from Leimen, so frequently absent from men of considerable size and strength, that makes it unlikely that even the fittest of the fit in other sports, would necessary translate into an irresistible force in tennis. There are specific skills and capabilities that are necessary in the game, making it as unlikely that someone over 6'4" will win the games most coveted titles, as someone that same size to possess all the skills necessary to play the game the old fashioned way. Groth has many of them, but not all of them...at least not yet.
I observed Groth working mercilessly on a Spanish footwork drill, where the coach with a ball in hand, directs the player up and back, left and right in a series of movements that, if traced on the court, would have the shape of an inverted 5-point star. Never lifting himself above or beyond the crouch position of a lightweight sumo, the burning in his thighs is as painful as it is productive, and the resulting pop (or should I say "boom") in his serve is as much due to the power in his legs as it is the rotation of those coat-hanger shoulders that spread as wide as a Texas bull.
Sam Groth may not win the Citi Open, but his impact will be felt by his opponents, line judges, ball boys any ill-advised spectators who take their eye off the court when he's serving. But through his exploits, wherever they may lead, tennis may just have in Groth its athlete that creates the appreciation for the raw athletic prerequisites assumed away in other sports.
But they didn't, and therein lies the rub, in my opinion. You see, in other sports, like football, you have Bo Jackson, Deion Sanders and to a lesser extent John Elway, prove without a shadow of a doubt their qualities as a professional in baseball, and the supreme athleticism of basketball players who've switched to football (like Tony Gonzales), leaves little doubt that this is a viable transition. Hell, even Michael Jordan hit .250 in the minor leagues, and he hadn't played baseball since he was a kid! Now, I have serious doubts as to whether any of these guys could ever pick up a tennis racquet with any hope of turning athletic prowess in their chosen sport, into a fighting chance in tennis - in fact, I don't think a single one of them could.
But it seems that we have, in the broad-shouldered, tatoo-sporting, super-serving, Australian behemoth Sam Groth, an answer to the question of whether tennis players could play other sports professionally, and through him, we could start to have an appreciation for the raw athleticism of tennis players. 50 long years after Ion Tiriac completed, what would today be considered, the altogether unimaginable transition from the 1964 Olympic ice-hockey team of Romania, to the 1969 Davis Cup finalist Romanian team in 1969, we have Groth.
He was a strong junior player - with his partner Andrew Kennaugh of Great Britain, he finished runner up in the 2005 Boy's doubles final to Jessie Levine and Michael Shabaz. A shoulder surgery, failed marriage and an extremely brief stint as an on court coach to his wife Jarmila Gajdosova (who famously told him that day in 2011 at Brisbane not to "...talk to me like a f---ing tourist") saw him burn out from the game and take up Australian Rules football with local second tier power house Vermont Football Club on the outskirts of Melbourne. For those of you who've never seen Australian Rules Football, it's a cross between rugby, and ultimate frisbee, played with a familiarly oblong ball, by athletes that all look like they could either win a slam dunk contest, or at the very least handle themselves if it got messy on the wrong side of town.
Physically, Groth fits in with that crowd just fine.
Upon returning to the game in 2013, he seemed to be uninformed of the changes in the game, that said serve and volley was as dead as the wood racquet, and proceeded to work his way through the challenger and ITF circuits (along the way hitting an ATP record 163 mph serve) until he made his way back into the hallowed territory of the top 100. Last year, he bludgeoned his way into the main draw at the Australian Open, just missed out on the show at Roland Garros, lost a tough 3-setter to Alexander Dolgopolov (a former champion at the Citi Open in 2012) at Wimbledon, and proceeded to make news at the US Open where he lost gallantly to Roger Federer in the second round. Along the way he captured the scalp of his compatriot Marinko Matosevic (himself a full-bodied exponent of the power game) before losing by one break in all three straight sets to the greatest player in the history of the game.
This year, his claim to fame is an unlikely and heroic performance in a Davis Cup cause that appeared entirely lost to the hugely proud and patriotic Australians, when the hopes of the nation, riding on the narrow shoulders of Thanassi Kokkinakis and Nick Kyrigos, were revived by an inspiring doubles performance from Groth, who manifests physiclally, all the grit and determination that is the hallmark of his illustrious, and retiring partner, Lleyton Hewitt. Having obliterated their unfancied rivals from Kazakhstan in the doubles, the pair were so convincing in their performance and temperament, that they usurped their younger teammates in the singles the next day and proceeded to perform a one two-combination that would have made (the Australian) Tommy Burns proud.
This year at the Citi Open, Groth took on and beat Victor Troicki in two tough sets, surprising those who observed the match from the mesh fence behind Court 1 with the frequency with which his serves in the ad court had his Serbian opponent chasing shadows looking for the point of contact in the deuce court, such was the power and spin he imposed on the ball. With deft touch at net, and good skills of anticipation, time and again he defended the net as well as most modern players defend the baseline. He served and volleyed his way to the end result he sought - to neutralize his presumed technical inferiority from the baseline with an unknown dexterity and ease with contortion at net. Along the way he showed off a forehand that at any given moment can put his opponent out of his misery with power and spin, and a backhand which, although frequently hit off the back foot, works just fine when he hits it hard enough to push his opponent behind the baseline...just where he wants him.
It is this unusual combination of girth and nimbleness, reminding this observer of the special skills and talents of a strawberry blonde wunderkind from Leimen, so frequently absent from men of considerable size and strength, that makes it unlikely that even the fittest of the fit in other sports, would necessary translate into an irresistible force in tennis. There are specific skills and capabilities that are necessary in the game, making it as unlikely that someone over 6'4" will win the games most coveted titles, as someone that same size to possess all the skills necessary to play the game the old fashioned way. Groth has many of them, but not all of them...at least not yet.
I observed Groth working mercilessly on a Spanish footwork drill, where the coach with a ball in hand, directs the player up and back, left and right in a series of movements that, if traced on the court, would have the shape of an inverted 5-point star. Never lifting himself above or beyond the crouch position of a lightweight sumo, the burning in his thighs is as painful as it is productive, and the resulting pop (or should I say "boom") in his serve is as much due to the power in his legs as it is the rotation of those coat-hanger shoulders that spread as wide as a Texas bull.
Sam Groth may not win the Citi Open, but his impact will be felt by his opponents, line judges, ball boys any ill-advised spectators who take their eye off the court when he's serving. But through his exploits, wherever they may lead, tennis may just have in Groth its athlete that creates the appreciation for the raw athletic prerequisites assumed away in other sports.
CITI OPEN: DAY 5 SUMMARY
Who the hell is Louisa Chirico? Well, for starters she's a woman who's had two victories over top 50 players in the first two rounds of the Citi Open, and finds herself in the quarterfinal of the event. That wouldn't be so impressive if she herself had a pedigree to speak of - she doesn't. She's a 19-year old wild card entrant who herself is ranked 128, and has never won a tournament at the WTA tour level. Her main claim to fame was winning the French Open wild card tournament, and proclaiming that she would have liked to play Serena Williams as a reward - a bit like winning the lottery and then looking forward to paying all the taxes and fees. But Chirico is fearless and one gets the feeling that competing with the best players in the world brings a kind of satisfaction of vanity that is required for precocious success in tennis. And her prospects of doing so are greatly assisted by the paucity of tactical acumen required by her style of play - if she were a man you'd say she wins based on balls and braun - a very Spanish style of play. For a woman, I call it big babe tennis, and Chirico is definitely a big babe. Whether she can continue today against Sloan Stephens (another big babe) in the same vain, is anybody's guess. But the way she's playing, and the fact that Sloan Stephens does not have the most cerebral game in the world, I'd say her chances are 50/50.
Lleyton Hewitt said good-bye to the tournament he won in 2004 - honored as a former champion, never called to task for his racial outburst in 2001, and well received by the tennis audience with probably the most black people he'll see in an audience of US tennis fans, Hewitt returned to the Citi Open over and over again. Accustomed to the hot conditions, he would have taken advantage of the quick surface that does much to facilitate the penetration of his strokes, which have always had the deceptive quality of being deep without giving his opponent much pace to speak of to work with. This quality in the early stages of his career, before all the issues with his hip restricted his movement, allowed him to consistently pull off a kind of tennis jujitsu, where you use the power of the bigger, stronger player against himself, until he looks like a giant buffoon power lifter, tearing his own arms off as he tries to clean and jerk a new world record. And if Hewitt weren't such a reprehensible personality when on the court, with the celebrating of his opponents errors, the confrontations with his opponents, the periodic abuse of officials, one might find more beauty in the Gilbertian quality of his tactical acumen. As it stands, I'm less than enamored of either his coming or going. Thanks to Feliciano Lopez, he's going.
Speaking of going, Bernard Tomic is going just as he came - shrouded in cynicism. I watched him practice Tuesday morning, and he looked very loose and relaxed, laughing and joking with James Duckworth who had a match later (that he lost to Kei Nishikori). I found it refreshing that after all he'd been through at Wimbledon with his Tennis Australia comments, then in Miami Beach with his Dade County police comments, that he seemed to enjoy himself a thousand miles away from all that misery visited upon him(self). Perhaps the purity of his time on the court was precisely the tonic needed to resolve some of the tension that must surely have built up over the last couple of difficult months.
Then I watched his match with Steve Johnson.
Now, to say that a player isn't giving his best effort is a serious accusation, one that I myself was reluctant to sign on to. After all, to be inside a player's mind and body is impossible, and without such an invasion, knowledge is inevitably subjugated to perception, and perception leaves us only with speculation. But not all speculation is equally tenuous, and the case of Bernard Tomic against Steve Johnson, is hardly tenuous. First, I noted that throughout the match, any time Tomic went down by two points on Johnson's serve, he made almost no movements at all towards the return of serve - and on the (frequent) occasion that the serve was hit within his wingspan Tomic's effort to return was as enthusiastic as it was succesful. I note also that frequently when he had sitters from Johnson's outstretched racquet, he would hardly move his feet at all as he blew through the shot for a winner - in fact at some point he hit an overhead drop shot, such was his level of comfort, not exactly the kind of shot one would expect from an uber competitive player.
In my opinion, Tomic is the better tennis player than Steve Johnson - he uses the ball to do his bidding, whereas Johnson appears to be fighting it with every stroke. Tomic easily switches from heavy spin to short slice, to deep flat, sometimes even side-spin - Johnson hits with heavy topspin whether or not it's in his interest to do so, and frequently it isn't. Nevertheless, one other important thing Johnson always does is chase the ball - every ball - regardless of whether he had a chance to reach it. Tomic frequently watched balls go by him from a safe distance - at first it looked like he was hoping the ball would go out, but at some point I started to get the feeling that he wanted the opposite, and commensurately to be put out of his misery. One particular game in the third set that went to something like 7 deuces, Johnson hit winners up the line of 3 ad court second serve returns in a row. Tomic watched each of them with a smile. Later in the game, Johnson figured, if he was making so little effort on the second serve, why not do the same on the first. As a matter of act, Tomic went wide in the deuce court so frequently, I started to wonder why Johnson wasn't keying on that and blowing a hole through the back fence. He almost did just that for another 2 points in a row. And Tomic smiled at every one of them, like a kid in his driveway, oddly smiling at perfect strangers as they drive by.
There were moments in the match where Tomic tried to engage Johnson in one or two of his running jokes - at some point Johnson's attempted pass hit the tape and then jumped up into Tomic's chest. Tomic looked over his shoulder in search of a smile or an apology - Johnson gave him neither. Before serving the next point he gave a gallic shrug and plaintively asked, "Why mate, why?" as in, "Why did you have to do that to little old me [Mr. Beauregard]". Johnson stared back blankly - his lack of facial expression a Nishikorian indication of his irritation. Later in the match, Johnson hit a forehand close to the baseline that was called out, which Tomic disagreed, and softly pleaded with the umpire that he wanted to concede the point. The umpire shook his head, insisting that the call was right. Tomic then asked to challenge the ball, which the umpire again refused (on what grounds, I don't know, but he refused nonetheless). Not satisfied, Tomic insisted, loud enough for anyone in the stands or walking behind the court to hear, that Johnson challenge the call. "Challenge Steve, challenge!" he said, feet spread eagle still unmoved from the end of the point, another gallic shrug, and palms pointed to the sky. The crowd laughed at his insistence, as did the umpire, but Johnson, who had initially turned his back and ignored him, turned to face him and responded again with another blank stare. Was he on to Tomic's ruse, or just wary of it?
I found the exchange entirely Freudian - it seemed to me Tomic really did want the call challenged, not because he thought it was out, but because (like so many who incorrectly challenged) hoped it was in - only here I think he wanted the ball to be in so that he could be one step closer to ending the match. In fact, the very next service game Tomic burned one up the T, Johnson hit a very short reply, Tomic charged the net, feigned a drop shot, then in the style of Federer hit a slice forehand deep - the ultimate tomfoolery that makes an opponent appear to be a puppet made to humiliate himself on the end of a string. Only Tomic promptly hit the slice forehand 6 feet out and humiliated himself - well he would have been humiliated if one assumes that he gave a shit.
It went on like this mercilessly, and towards the end of the match, in one of the longer deuce games, which conveniently persisted the illusion of effort, one had the feeling that Tomic grew irritated with Johnson that he was so profligate in all the opportunities he was giving him to finish him off. Tomic didn't appear to have any trouble controlling points when he wanted to, and although Johnson was making all the right moves, like a rhythmless enthusiast, desperately learning the moves to a Michael Jackson video, it was all there but horrific to behold nonetheless. Johnson is a committed professional, and will almost certainly maximize his results - he's serious and leaves no stone unturned...he just doesn't have a lot of stones. That match took an hour longer than it should have, although he prevailed in the end. If Tomic had tried as hard to win that match, as he tried to make it look like he was trying, the match would have been done an hour earlier as well - only the result reversed.
Speaking of a match that took longer than it should have, Grigor Dimitrov won his 2nd round encounter with Guido Pella6-4, 6-1 7-6, 6-4. He should have won the match in less than an hour, but his old junior nemesis from Argentina held firm in the first and broke him precisely when the Bulgarian should have mercilessly closed out the first set. In fact, down a break at 5-4, Guido Pella proceeded to break, hold and break again, and had the set in his hands. But the South American lefty's convoluted and thoroughly concocted forehand broke down at the absolute worst times, and he wound up losing tamely in a tie-break. The second was a repeat of the first, with Dimitrov up 5-1, with two breaks. Then Pella held, broke and held, to bring himself within one break of equalling his feat in the first. In his interview after the match, Dimitrov intimated he was experimenting with going for his shots, almost as if he wanted to test the limit of how precise he could be if it was necessary. Well, it wasn't necessary, and he found out what the other side of the limit was last night, almost to his own detriment. Fortunately for him, he's come a long way since the juniors, and he was able to reel it in when he needed to. We'll see if he was experimenting or merely missing the mark, because I have a feeling that Johnson will not give him the gifts that Guido Pella did. Although on the basis of his performance against Bernard Tomic, I may live to regret that assertion. I was impressed (as I have been since I first saw him play in 2011) with his game, but unimpressed with this result for Dimitrov. I have a feeling Johnson will also be underwhelmed, in which case Dimitrov better figure out the right side of that limit, right quick.
Speaking of right quick, boy was that a quick and terrible journey for Andy Murray, who was eliminated from both the doubles and singles in the first round from the home tournament of his clothing sponsor, Under Armour. A bit like Lewis Hamilton going out of the race on the first lap of the German Grand Prix...if there were a German Grand Prix this year (but I digress). I have to say, Murray made an effort of it - he just came up against that terrible condition that all the top players fear. A guy who has a lot of tools in his kit, but is consistently inconsistent, just happens to put together the entirety of his arsenal...just for you. Gabashvili was hitting first serves consistently at or just below the 130 mark, which is unusual for him. Combined with a mammoth forehand, and a backhand that easily switched from cross-court to up the line, he presented the kind of problems that are normally reserved for only the best opponents Murray will face.
After going down an early break in the first, Murray found his way back to 4-4, then proceed to get broken for the set after some profligate serving and unforced errors trying to do the exact opposite of what got him back in the set. Namely, rather than daring the Georgian to see who would outlast whom in the cross court rallies, he attempted twice to change direction on the backhand up the line, which he's normally good at, but not off of the depth of Gabashvili's offerings last night. In the second, Murray settled down and did what he does best, hit harder and deeper to the same spots until he elicits a soft reply. In the ultimate game, Gabashvili was still the aggressor, and looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted down set point with long points shortened by his power up the line, eliciting a high defensive lob. Now I happened to watch Gabashvili practice overheads for about 15 minutes in his pre-match hit with Vasek Pospisil. So he would have been beside himself when he dumped his overhead 3 feet wide of the ad court sideline - he was, because before the score was called he had slammed his racquet in to the ground in disgust.
The third set was tense and the quality of tennis high. Although Gabashvili was resolute despite a calf-injury that appeared to be tempered by adrenaline, Murray was in control and served for it at 5-4. But after a couple of uncharacteristic (even for this match) unforced errors, Murray sent a backhand long and they traded holds until the tie-break. Murray went up 4-3, but wouldn't win another point after that. He again reminded anyone who would listen that it was his first hard court tournament since March, but that doesn't explain the loss, which was the result of Gabashvili playing exceptionally well for an exceptionally long time. Murray, who was his usual steady self, never really raised the level of his game, and it cost him the match. Here in DC, where only his reputation is at stake (and an extra 500 points is nothing to shake a stick at) it will be seen as an anomaly, but I found his entire stay here in DC to be subdued, from his interviews to his training sessions to his matches. In my mind I always found an excuse, it was hot in the presser, it was hot on court, it was a doubles match, and finally he hadn't played on hard courts since March...
Time will tell, but I have a feeling that Murray is displeased with something in his camp that hasn't come out yet. Frequently in the match, he looked over at his camp, and his answer to my question about using hawkeye data in practice in Miami this year, leads me to believe that something is amiss, of which his disappointing performance is a symptom. If it isn't resolved, like most immune responses, left untreated, will eventually kill his him - or at least his chances at the US Open.
Lleyton Hewitt said good-bye to the tournament he won in 2004 - honored as a former champion, never called to task for his racial outburst in 2001, and well received by the tennis audience with probably the most black people he'll see in an audience of US tennis fans, Hewitt returned to the Citi Open over and over again. Accustomed to the hot conditions, he would have taken advantage of the quick surface that does much to facilitate the penetration of his strokes, which have always had the deceptive quality of being deep without giving his opponent much pace to speak of to work with. This quality in the early stages of his career, before all the issues with his hip restricted his movement, allowed him to consistently pull off a kind of tennis jujitsu, where you use the power of the bigger, stronger player against himself, until he looks like a giant buffoon power lifter, tearing his own arms off as he tries to clean and jerk a new world record. And if Hewitt weren't such a reprehensible personality when on the court, with the celebrating of his opponents errors, the confrontations with his opponents, the periodic abuse of officials, one might find more beauty in the Gilbertian quality of his tactical acumen. As it stands, I'm less than enamored of either his coming or going. Thanks to Feliciano Lopez, he's going.
Speaking of going, Bernard Tomic is going just as he came - shrouded in cynicism. I watched him practice Tuesday morning, and he looked very loose and relaxed, laughing and joking with James Duckworth who had a match later (that he lost to Kei Nishikori). I found it refreshing that after all he'd been through at Wimbledon with his Tennis Australia comments, then in Miami Beach with his Dade County police comments, that he seemed to enjoy himself a thousand miles away from all that misery visited upon him(self). Perhaps the purity of his time on the court was precisely the tonic needed to resolve some of the tension that must surely have built up over the last couple of difficult months.
Then I watched his match with Steve Johnson.
Now, to say that a player isn't giving his best effort is a serious accusation, one that I myself was reluctant to sign on to. After all, to be inside a player's mind and body is impossible, and without such an invasion, knowledge is inevitably subjugated to perception, and perception leaves us only with speculation. But not all speculation is equally tenuous, and the case of Bernard Tomic against Steve Johnson, is hardly tenuous. First, I noted that throughout the match, any time Tomic went down by two points on Johnson's serve, he made almost no movements at all towards the return of serve - and on the (frequent) occasion that the serve was hit within his wingspan Tomic's effort to return was as enthusiastic as it was succesful. I note also that frequently when he had sitters from Johnson's outstretched racquet, he would hardly move his feet at all as he blew through the shot for a winner - in fact at some point he hit an overhead drop shot, such was his level of comfort, not exactly the kind of shot one would expect from an uber competitive player.
In my opinion, Tomic is the better tennis player than Steve Johnson - he uses the ball to do his bidding, whereas Johnson appears to be fighting it with every stroke. Tomic easily switches from heavy spin to short slice, to deep flat, sometimes even side-spin - Johnson hits with heavy topspin whether or not it's in his interest to do so, and frequently it isn't. Nevertheless, one other important thing Johnson always does is chase the ball - every ball - regardless of whether he had a chance to reach it. Tomic frequently watched balls go by him from a safe distance - at first it looked like he was hoping the ball would go out, but at some point I started to get the feeling that he wanted the opposite, and commensurately to be put out of his misery. One particular game in the third set that went to something like 7 deuces, Johnson hit winners up the line of 3 ad court second serve returns in a row. Tomic watched each of them with a smile. Later in the game, Johnson figured, if he was making so little effort on the second serve, why not do the same on the first. As a matter of act, Tomic went wide in the deuce court so frequently, I started to wonder why Johnson wasn't keying on that and blowing a hole through the back fence. He almost did just that for another 2 points in a row. And Tomic smiled at every one of them, like a kid in his driveway, oddly smiling at perfect strangers as they drive by.
There were moments in the match where Tomic tried to engage Johnson in one or two of his running jokes - at some point Johnson's attempted pass hit the tape and then jumped up into Tomic's chest. Tomic looked over his shoulder in search of a smile or an apology - Johnson gave him neither. Before serving the next point he gave a gallic shrug and plaintively asked, "Why mate, why?" as in, "Why did you have to do that to little old me [Mr. Beauregard]". Johnson stared back blankly - his lack of facial expression a Nishikorian indication of his irritation. Later in the match, Johnson hit a forehand close to the baseline that was called out, which Tomic disagreed, and softly pleaded with the umpire that he wanted to concede the point. The umpire shook his head, insisting that the call was right. Tomic then asked to challenge the ball, which the umpire again refused (on what grounds, I don't know, but he refused nonetheless). Not satisfied, Tomic insisted, loud enough for anyone in the stands or walking behind the court to hear, that Johnson challenge the call. "Challenge Steve, challenge!" he said, feet spread eagle still unmoved from the end of the point, another gallic shrug, and palms pointed to the sky. The crowd laughed at his insistence, as did the umpire, but Johnson, who had initially turned his back and ignored him, turned to face him and responded again with another blank stare. Was he on to Tomic's ruse, or just wary of it?
I found the exchange entirely Freudian - it seemed to me Tomic really did want the call challenged, not because he thought it was out, but because (like so many who incorrectly challenged) hoped it was in - only here I think he wanted the ball to be in so that he could be one step closer to ending the match. In fact, the very next service game Tomic burned one up the T, Johnson hit a very short reply, Tomic charged the net, feigned a drop shot, then in the style of Federer hit a slice forehand deep - the ultimate tomfoolery that makes an opponent appear to be a puppet made to humiliate himself on the end of a string. Only Tomic promptly hit the slice forehand 6 feet out and humiliated himself - well he would have been humiliated if one assumes that he gave a shit.
It went on like this mercilessly, and towards the end of the match, in one of the longer deuce games, which conveniently persisted the illusion of effort, one had the feeling that Tomic grew irritated with Johnson that he was so profligate in all the opportunities he was giving him to finish him off. Tomic didn't appear to have any trouble controlling points when he wanted to, and although Johnson was making all the right moves, like a rhythmless enthusiast, desperately learning the moves to a Michael Jackson video, it was all there but horrific to behold nonetheless. Johnson is a committed professional, and will almost certainly maximize his results - he's serious and leaves no stone unturned...he just doesn't have a lot of stones. That match took an hour longer than it should have, although he prevailed in the end. If Tomic had tried as hard to win that match, as he tried to make it look like he was trying, the match would have been done an hour earlier as well - only the result reversed.
Speaking of a match that took longer than it should have, Grigor Dimitrov won his 2nd round encounter with Guido Pella
Speaking of right quick, boy was that a quick and terrible journey for Andy Murray, who was eliminated from both the doubles and singles in the first round from the home tournament of his clothing sponsor, Under Armour. A bit like Lewis Hamilton going out of the race on the first lap of the German Grand Prix...if there were a German Grand Prix this year (but I digress). I have to say, Murray made an effort of it - he just came up against that terrible condition that all the top players fear. A guy who has a lot of tools in his kit, but is consistently inconsistent, just happens to put together the entirety of his arsenal...just for you. Gabashvili was hitting first serves consistently at or just below the 130 mark, which is unusual for him. Combined with a mammoth forehand, and a backhand that easily switched from cross-court to up the line, he presented the kind of problems that are normally reserved for only the best opponents Murray will face.
After going down an early break in the first, Murray found his way back to 4-4, then proceed to get broken for the set after some profligate serving and unforced errors trying to do the exact opposite of what got him back in the set. Namely, rather than daring the Georgian to see who would outlast whom in the cross court rallies, he attempted twice to change direction on the backhand up the line, which he's normally good at, but not off of the depth of Gabashvili's offerings last night. In the second, Murray settled down and did what he does best, hit harder and deeper to the same spots until he elicits a soft reply. In the ultimate game, Gabashvili was still the aggressor, and looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted down set point with long points shortened by his power up the line, eliciting a high defensive lob. Now I happened to watch Gabashvili practice overheads for about 15 minutes in his pre-match hit with Vasek Pospisil. So he would have been beside himself when he dumped his overhead 3 feet wide of the ad court sideline - he was, because before the score was called he had slammed his racquet in to the ground in disgust.
The third set was tense and the quality of tennis high. Although Gabashvili was resolute despite a calf-injury that appeared to be tempered by adrenaline, Murray was in control and served for it at 5-4. But after a couple of uncharacteristic (even for this match) unforced errors, Murray sent a backhand long and they traded holds until the tie-break. Murray went up 4-3, but wouldn't win another point after that. He again reminded anyone who would listen that it was his first hard court tournament since March, but that doesn't explain the loss, which was the result of Gabashvili playing exceptionally well for an exceptionally long time. Murray, who was his usual steady self, never really raised the level of his game, and it cost him the match. Here in DC, where only his reputation is at stake (and an extra 500 points is nothing to shake a stick at) it will be seen as an anomaly, but I found his entire stay here in DC to be subdued, from his interviews to his training sessions to his matches. In my mind I always found an excuse, it was hot in the presser, it was hot on court, it was a doubles match, and finally he hadn't played on hard courts since March...
Time will tell, but I have a feeling that Murray is displeased with something in his camp that hasn't come out yet. Frequently in the match, he looked over at his camp, and his answer to my question about using hawkeye data in practice in Miami this year, leads me to believe that something is amiss, of which his disappointing performance is a symptom. If it isn't resolved, like most immune responses, left untreated, will eventually kill his him - or at least his chances at the US Open.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
CITI OPEN: SUDDENLY SAMANTHA
I'm not going to lie - I love almost everything about Sam Stosur, and I have for years. One look at the second most famous pair of guns in women's tennis, and knowing what she came through 8 years ago to recover from Lyme disease and to come back, like the bionic woman, better-stronger-faster, only the most cynical of cynics would suggest that she is anything but 100% committed to being the best player than she can be. That may not seem like much if you assume that such commitment is universal, but from the mouths of (big tennis) babes in this piece, in fact, it is as refreshing as it is rare. On the basis of this commitment alone, the level of admiration for her, from all corners of the sports world, ought to be very high indeed.
And then when you get a look at her game, it's hard not to appreciate that as much (if not more) than her commitment. She hits one of the heaviest serves on tour, with a combination of pace and spin that is generally unseen in women's tennis. It helps that her shoulders are broader than mine, so that she can bring the racquet head up and over her crown the way she must, to make the ball leap off the court the ways he does. But the thing that really gets it done on that shot is her legs - nobody leaps up and into their serve like she does, and that's the main reason for its effect.
Similarly, on her forehand, she has a modern version of the stroke that minimizes the all racquet head movement prior to the point of contact. Whilst keeping the racquet head entirely on the forehand side of her body, she launches the full force of her legs and core into the stroke, with a follow through so full and violent, she finishes with a curl across her chest, or over her head, almost out of necessity. Both of those strokes impart more top spin on the ball than any other player on tour. And while her technical asymmetry, (a forehand far superior to her backhand) more characteristic of the ATP than the WTA I might add, presents defensive challenges for her, from an attacking perspective, no player is more capable of controlling the center of the court. And because her stroke production is efficient, she can do it equally well on all surfaces.
I asked Sam, in her pre-tournament press-conference, whether she and her coach talked about or worked on any conscious adjustments to her game as she made an unusual transition, this year from grass to clay to the hard courts in the span of six weeks. Her response was at once surprising and revealing: she said that while the clay is best suited to her game, and adjustments have to be made regardless of whatever surface you're coming from or going to, the vast majority of adjustments are the result of a natural (but accelerated) evolution of her game, and that is, in my opinion a testament to her technical efficiency. The fewer the moving parts, the fewer the adjustments that need to be made, and that bodes well.
Speaking of technical asymmetry, it didn't prevent her from pulling off one of the greatest upsets and most comprehensive major final victories, over Serena Williams, in 2011 at the US Open. There, she used the slice backhand more effectively than I've ever seen her do before or since, and the result was equally unique. Unfortunately that match is known more for this little tantrum from Serena, than for her brilliant technical and tactical mastery of the game, which I admired from start to finish, but the thing to remember in that match, is that Stosur had just lost to Serena in Los Angeles earlier that year, and earlier in Serena's comeback. So if there were a time for her to sneak one in on her more illustrious rival, it would have been on the West Coast - but fortunately for Sam, she used the information from the first encounter, to great effect in the second.
I've always admired players who ignore the illusory impact of the overwhelming head-to-head record (one of tennis' greatest myths) and persevere with both their mind and their technical arsenal. As the Romans used to put it, one should return from battle either with their shield or on it, and Stosur risked looking like the occasion had gotten the best of her (as it did in 2010 at Roland Garros against Francesca Schiavone), had her tactical approach caused her to fall on her face. But to her credit, she left it all on the court, mentally and physically, and deservedly won.
Since then, Sam's results have been more reminiscent of the limited success she enjoyed prior to what has turned out to be the zenith of her career. To the best of my ability, I haven't been able to figure out why. And that's why her victory over Irlina Falconi today at the Citi Open, the 501st in the career best female Australian player since Evonne Goolagong, was so encouraging for me to observe. Coming off of a comeback victory in the Bad Gastein final two weeks ago, Sam's game appears to have turned a corner, and the timing couldn't be better. The pace on her first serve was everything you'd expect it to be, and would have been uniquely impressive had it not been for the placement thereof. Time and again she hit spots on the court with pace 20 to 30 mph faster than her opponent. And no matter how many times Falconi belted one flat cross court forehand after another, the tight production of her own forehand not only kept Stosur in the point, but allowed her to get a foothold in the return of serve that gave her an insurmountable edge in the match.
But what I really like about the way Sam's game looks right now is her movement - nobody in the women's game floats around the court like Sam does. You'd think quickness was a strength, but that's not the same as having world class movement. At the end of the day, the paramount objective of any player's footwork, but especially Sam's is to get in position to hit her shots. And the most important shot of all is the forehand. Sam's ability to shuffle around the outside of the ball, in order to go big on the inside out forehand, and set up the put away to the other corner, is her footwork. And these days, it's as good as it's ever been, and then some. I, for one, would be delighted to see her carry that through to the 2015 US Open.
She'll need to if she is become (once again) the only player on tour to have beaten Serena Williams at her home major (with no asterisk attached) since Justine Henin did it in 2007.
And then when you get a look at her game, it's hard not to appreciate that as much (if not more) than her commitment. She hits one of the heaviest serves on tour, with a combination of pace and spin that is generally unseen in women's tennis. It helps that her shoulders are broader than mine, so that she can bring the racquet head up and over her crown the way she must, to make the ball leap off the court the ways he does. But the thing that really gets it done on that shot is her legs - nobody leaps up and into their serve like she does, and that's the main reason for its effect.
Similarly, on her forehand, she has a modern version of the stroke that minimizes the all racquet head movement prior to the point of contact. Whilst keeping the racquet head entirely on the forehand side of her body, she launches the full force of her legs and core into the stroke, with a follow through so full and violent, she finishes with a curl across her chest, or over her head, almost out of necessity. Both of those strokes impart more top spin on the ball than any other player on tour. And while her technical asymmetry, (a forehand far superior to her backhand) more characteristic of the ATP than the WTA I might add, presents defensive challenges for her, from an attacking perspective, no player is more capable of controlling the center of the court. And because her stroke production is efficient, she can do it equally well on all surfaces.
I asked Sam, in her pre-tournament press-conference, whether she and her coach talked about or worked on any conscious adjustments to her game as she made an unusual transition, this year from grass to clay to the hard courts in the span of six weeks. Her response was at once surprising and revealing: she said that while the clay is best suited to her game, and adjustments have to be made regardless of whatever surface you're coming from or going to, the vast majority of adjustments are the result of a natural (but accelerated) evolution of her game, and that is, in my opinion a testament to her technical efficiency. The fewer the moving parts, the fewer the adjustments that need to be made, and that bodes well.
Speaking of technical asymmetry, it didn't prevent her from pulling off one of the greatest upsets and most comprehensive major final victories, over Serena Williams, in 2011 at the US Open. There, she used the slice backhand more effectively than I've ever seen her do before or since, and the result was equally unique. Unfortunately that match is known more for this little tantrum from Serena, than for her brilliant technical and tactical mastery of the game, which I admired from start to finish, but the thing to remember in that match, is that Stosur had just lost to Serena in Los Angeles earlier that year, and earlier in Serena's comeback. So if there were a time for her to sneak one in on her more illustrious rival, it would have been on the West Coast - but fortunately for Sam, she used the information from the first encounter, to great effect in the second.
I've always admired players who ignore the illusory impact of the overwhelming head-to-head record (one of tennis' greatest myths) and persevere with both their mind and their technical arsenal. As the Romans used to put it, one should return from battle either with their shield or on it, and Stosur risked looking like the occasion had gotten the best of her (as it did in 2010 at Roland Garros against Francesca Schiavone), had her tactical approach caused her to fall on her face. But to her credit, she left it all on the court, mentally and physically, and deservedly won.
Since then, Sam's results have been more reminiscent of the limited success she enjoyed prior to what has turned out to be the zenith of her career. To the best of my ability, I haven't been able to figure out why. And that's why her victory over Irlina Falconi today at the Citi Open, the 501st in the career best female Australian player since Evonne Goolagong, was so encouraging for me to observe. Coming off of a comeback victory in the Bad Gastein final two weeks ago, Sam's game appears to have turned a corner, and the timing couldn't be better. The pace on her first serve was everything you'd expect it to be, and would have been uniquely impressive had it not been for the placement thereof. Time and again she hit spots on the court with pace 20 to 30 mph faster than her opponent. And no matter how many times Falconi belted one flat cross court forehand after another, the tight production of her own forehand not only kept Stosur in the point, but allowed her to get a foothold in the return of serve that gave her an insurmountable edge in the match.
But what I really like about the way Sam's game looks right now is her movement - nobody in the women's game floats around the court like Sam does. You'd think quickness was a strength, but that's not the same as having world class movement. At the end of the day, the paramount objective of any player's footwork, but especially Sam's is to get in position to hit her shots. And the most important shot of all is the forehand. Sam's ability to shuffle around the outside of the ball, in order to go big on the inside out forehand, and set up the put away to the other corner, is her footwork. And these days, it's as good as it's ever been, and then some. I, for one, would be delighted to see her carry that through to the 2015 US Open.
She'll need to if she is become (once again) the only player on tour to have beaten Serena Williams at her home major (with no asterisk attached) since Justine Henin did it in 2007.
CITI OPEN PRESSER IMPRESSIONS
I always wondered why press conferences always seem to be such tense affairs - sometimes you feel like you could cut the tension with a very blunt knife, and the resulting communications (or what turns out to be the lack thereof) are often as informative as they are distinctive. But after sitting for a press conference with Andy Murray - his first at the Citi Open (though he's been here since at least Saturday, when about 100 fans got to watch him working out with Jonas Bjorkman), I sort of get the feeling that the format has as much to do with it as the questions asked, or the answers given.
The first question was about the differences between the current, modern, $1.5M+, ATP 500 tournament, and the lower key event he played in almost 10 years ago in 2006. A younger man then, burdened with less to concern himself with now as an imminent father, an Olympic gold medalist and a major champion, Murray immediately veered off into his appreciation for the city and the changes he had made to where he stayed. He also mentioned that the courts had remained more or less the same, which would seem to conflict with some of the rumblings in the blogosphere about additional sand used in the composition of either the court or the paint used to adorn it, and the impact that's had on slowing down the game to a pace more palatable to the average fan for whom an ace or service winner is an anti-climax.
The second question came from a fellow blogger, who asked about his love of boxing, and before she could finish her question, he immediately offered how he enjoys watching boxing, watches a great deal of it, but curiously when he is emotionally attached to a bout (such as when he knows or has met one of the combatants) he actually finds it difficult to watch, and will frequently move away and essentially hide until the match is over, at which point he won't approach his friend until he has foreknowledge that he is, in fact, okay. I thought that was endearing.
When the blogger had a chance to cut in, she continued by putting forward a premise that I found to be a little surprising: she said that some people considered Serena Williams to be the "Muhammad Ali" of tennis, and asked him to give his impression of the comparison. To his credit, he answered that he thought it was an interesting comparison, but he wasn't sure of what the basis of the comparison was aside from the their high level of achievement in their respective sports. He went on to point out (very astutely, in my opinion) that times are different today, than they were in Ali's day, therefore their accomplishments are not necessarily comparable.
When I had my chance to ask him a question, I followed up on an answer he gave to a previous question, where he reminded us that this was the first time he'd hit on a hard court since Miami. This brought to mind a piece at gamesetmap.com, where it is reported that he is not only one of the only players on tour that consistently requests hawkeye statistics on his and his opponents matches, but that he actually requested hawkeye statistics on a practice session in Miami with Kei Nishikori.
Murray responded that when he did it in Miami he was doing it to test the speed of his movement, which he thought was a better way of determining whether the training (and more importantly the evaluation thereof) is effective and accurate. With a wry smile he intimated that his physical trainer would be under pressure to be more observant or at least more accurate with his observations, as to the effort he was exerting in training, almost as if he suspects some measure of sycophancy or stinginess with praise from some in his entourage.
As to the data and statistics in tennis, he distanced himself from the remainder of his response - he mentioned that some players may not want to become too robotic about their tactics, and that too much data may introduce too many things to consider. He also mentioned that some coaches may not be ready to use data in their match analysis and preparation because it simply wasn't available to them when they played. Ultimately, it's up to the player and the coach to find the right balance.
To be fair, Murray may have known that the gamesetmap piece actually accused him of some measure of espionage, pointing out that Nishikori was not aware that Murray had requested hawkeye data on their practice. In Murray's defense, when you ask for hawkeye data, they give the data for both players without being asked, so the request wouldn't have been specifically made for Nishikori's data. He may have been aware of the NHK documentary which made extensive analysis of hawkeye data on Nishikori, and floated the idea that Murray was using their practice data to his advantage.
Overall, I felt that the press conference with Murray was subdued. Perhaps because the air conditioning hadn't been turned on yet, and we were all (not the least of which, it seemed, Murray) ready for the Q&A to end so that we could guzzle a bottle of cold water. There was a distinct air of anticipation and excitement when Nishikori came in for his press conference. First of all, the photographers were going nuts - you almost couldn't hear the questions over the flash and shutters, and the answers he gave frankly did not do the atmosphere justice.
When I had my chance to ask my question, another member of the press had asked Nishikori about the documentary made of him, and I followed up on that, pointing out the extensive use of data analysis in the documentary, and asked Nishikori whether he had used match data to analyze his matches and prepare for his opponents. I don't believe he understood the question, because he responded by saying that generally, he felt his preparation for the summer hard court season, and this tournament in particular, was very good.
And then something interesting happened at the end of the English portion of the press conference. The moderator hadn't noticed that there were a couple of Japanese journalists who had patiently waited for an opportunity to put questions to Kei in Japanese (obviously) so she ended the press conference, and the English speaking media, en masse, got up and left. Though she had ended the conference, Nishikori shot her a couple of expressionless looks without getting up from his seat - apparently he noticed that the japanese journalists had been overlooked, and without saying anything, silently protested her overzealous ending, by not moving an inch. The journalists did exactly the same, staying put without pointing out that they had been overlooked. To be fair to her, the moderator immediately apologized and allowed for Japanese questions, but I thought it was fascinating that both the journalists and Nishikori found a way to make their displeasure known without saying a word.
When the questions started, I noticed something else: although Nishikori's expression didn't change one iota as the questions were asked in his native tongue, I noticed that his eyes weren't open as wide, and he started yawning mid-question, something he hadn't done in English. I don't believe he was more interested in the English questions, but I'm certain he was more attentive because English is not his first language, and although he speaks very well (as do all these professionals from non-English speaking countries), there are moments (like with my question) where he reminds us that this is a second language for him, and none of us could do the same in his.
But nothing says you're relaxed and no longer on the edge, like yawning in the middle of a question!
The first question was about the differences between the current, modern, $1.5M+, ATP 500 tournament, and the lower key event he played in almost 10 years ago in 2006. A younger man then, burdened with less to concern himself with now as an imminent father, an Olympic gold medalist and a major champion, Murray immediately veered off into his appreciation for the city and the changes he had made to where he stayed. He also mentioned that the courts had remained more or less the same, which would seem to conflict with some of the rumblings in the blogosphere about additional sand used in the composition of either the court or the paint used to adorn it, and the impact that's had on slowing down the game to a pace more palatable to the average fan for whom an ace or service winner is an anti-climax.
The second question came from a fellow blogger, who asked about his love of boxing, and before she could finish her question, he immediately offered how he enjoys watching boxing, watches a great deal of it, but curiously when he is emotionally attached to a bout (such as when he knows or has met one of the combatants) he actually finds it difficult to watch, and will frequently move away and essentially hide until the match is over, at which point he won't approach his friend until he has foreknowledge that he is, in fact, okay. I thought that was endearing.
When the blogger had a chance to cut in, she continued by putting forward a premise that I found to be a little surprising: she said that some people considered Serena Williams to be the "Muhammad Ali" of tennis, and asked him to give his impression of the comparison. To his credit, he answered that he thought it was an interesting comparison, but he wasn't sure of what the basis of the comparison was aside from the their high level of achievement in their respective sports. He went on to point out (very astutely, in my opinion) that times are different today, than they were in Ali's day, therefore their accomplishments are not necessarily comparable.
When I had my chance to ask him a question, I followed up on an answer he gave to a previous question, where he reminded us that this was the first time he'd hit on a hard court since Miami. This brought to mind a piece at gamesetmap.com, where it is reported that he is not only one of the only players on tour that consistently requests hawkeye statistics on his and his opponents matches, but that he actually requested hawkeye statistics on a practice session in Miami with Kei Nishikori.
Murray responded that when he did it in Miami he was doing it to test the speed of his movement, which he thought was a better way of determining whether the training (and more importantly the evaluation thereof) is effective and accurate. With a wry smile he intimated that his physical trainer would be under pressure to be more observant or at least more accurate with his observations, as to the effort he was exerting in training, almost as if he suspects some measure of sycophancy or stinginess with praise from some in his entourage.
As to the data and statistics in tennis, he distanced himself from the remainder of his response - he mentioned that some players may not want to become too robotic about their tactics, and that too much data may introduce too many things to consider. He also mentioned that some coaches may not be ready to use data in their match analysis and preparation because it simply wasn't available to them when they played. Ultimately, it's up to the player and the coach to find the right balance.
To be fair, Murray may have known that the gamesetmap piece actually accused him of some measure of espionage, pointing out that Nishikori was not aware that Murray had requested hawkeye data on their practice. In Murray's defense, when you ask for hawkeye data, they give the data for both players without being asked, so the request wouldn't have been specifically made for Nishikori's data. He may have been aware of the NHK documentary which made extensive analysis of hawkeye data on Nishikori, and floated the idea that Murray was using their practice data to his advantage.
Overall, I felt that the press conference with Murray was subdued. Perhaps because the air conditioning hadn't been turned on yet, and we were all (not the least of which, it seemed, Murray) ready for the Q&A to end so that we could guzzle a bottle of cold water. There was a distinct air of anticipation and excitement when Nishikori came in for his press conference. First of all, the photographers were going nuts - you almost couldn't hear the questions over the flash and shutters, and the answers he gave frankly did not do the atmosphere justice.
When I had my chance to ask my question, another member of the press had asked Nishikori about the documentary made of him, and I followed up on that, pointing out the extensive use of data analysis in the documentary, and asked Nishikori whether he had used match data to analyze his matches and prepare for his opponents. I don't believe he understood the question, because he responded by saying that generally, he felt his preparation for the summer hard court season, and this tournament in particular, was very good.
And then something interesting happened at the end of the English portion of the press conference. The moderator hadn't noticed that there were a couple of Japanese journalists who had patiently waited for an opportunity to put questions to Kei in Japanese (obviously) so she ended the press conference, and the English speaking media, en masse, got up and left. Though she had ended the conference, Nishikori shot her a couple of expressionless looks without getting up from his seat - apparently he noticed that the japanese journalists had been overlooked, and without saying anything, silently protested her overzealous ending, by not moving an inch. The journalists did exactly the same, staying put without pointing out that they had been overlooked. To be fair to her, the moderator immediately apologized and allowed for Japanese questions, but I thought it was fascinating that both the journalists and Nishikori found a way to make their displeasure known without saying a word.
When the questions started, I noticed something else: although Nishikori's expression didn't change one iota as the questions were asked in his native tongue, I noticed that his eyes weren't open as wide, and he started yawning mid-question, something he hadn't done in English. I don't believe he was more interested in the English questions, but I'm certain he was more attentive because English is not his first language, and although he speaks very well (as do all these professionals from non-English speaking countries), there are moments (like with my question) where he reminds us that this is a second language for him, and none of us could do the same in his.
But nothing says you're relaxed and no longer on the edge, like yawning in the middle of a question!
CITI OPEN: NO REST FOR THE WEARY
The cruel irony of Ryan Harrison's first round (of the main draw) match against James Duckworth of Australia, is that he shouldn't have been there...for a lot of reasons. First of all, he is, by most accounts (and with all due respect), a better player than James Duckworth - his strokes are more modern (tightly produced with better racquet head acceleration) and of the two of the, he should have gained direct entry into the main draw. But two years of profligacy and fighting injuries has forced him to the path of greatest resistance, and since this is the toughest draw in the history of this tournament, direct entry into the main draw would have given him more of a fighting chance.
And for another thing, who could blame him for feeling hard done by a schedule that had him play 3 matches in 3 days, with the #2 seed sadistically waiting for him if he made it through this travail on the fourth day. God rested more his first week. It would have been one thing had he breezed through the matches along the way to his first main draw, but all three matches were taxing physically, particularly the first, and the second match, which nearly got away from him in the second (just like the first) was a test of concentration and will which he passed, but apparently not with flying colors.
The great thing about the Citi Open being a 500 on the ATP tour, is that there are a lot of points on the table, to say nothing of the money, and as such, they come from far and wide for their slice of the pie. And because only one of the big 4 have made their way to DC this year, there are quite a few players in the second tier, who would fancy their chances as maximizing their results this year, and giving themselves the best opportunity to improve their seeding at the US Open. The combination of the two conditions have produced a brilliant star on the DC horizon - it burns bright, but dims quickly as a number of players with a built in following in DC are sacrificed at the altar of the game's praetorian guard.
Take the case of Donald Young - a semi-finalist a year ago, in 2015 he gained directly entry into the main draw (no small feat) but his reward was playing one of the purest ball-strikers, and most versatile and athletic players, in Tommy Haas. In that test, he receiving a passing grade, using spin and improved depth off of both wings (but particularly the forehand) to bully his older rival into a number of unforced errors, and playing further behind the baseline than his optimal court positioning would dictate. There was much improvement in his concentration as well - after breaking Haas's serve at the first time of asking, he gave he break right back. But the expected lapse in focus was nowhere to be found, as Young broke back a second time, and then consolidated with solid play.
Haas raised the level of his game in the second, threatening to break Young with an elongated game or multiple deuces - for several deuce points, Haas attacked with an inside out forehand hit relatively flat into the backhand, a great tactical option against a player who is technically asymmetrical. But Young responded in the ad court by pushing Haas further and further into his backhand corner, first with a well angled wide serve (struck from the middle of the baseline and giving him a better angle). If the serve was returned (which it wasn't a number of times) he continued to push Haas wide in the point until an error was elicited.
But Haas is resilient, and though he failed to get the job done in his first return game, he was able to do it in the second, after holding, cosolidated the hold, and looked to be on his way to pushing the match into a third. The plaintive wailing, and audible stream of consciousness which normally accompanies Young's dips in performance were there, but unlike on other occasions, they were replaced with a renewed commitment to pushing Haas with the one combination that was to his advantage - his forehand to Haas's backhand. And despite a couple of occasions where Young's forehand landed short in the court, but carried to the baseline (the perfect combination for a player who hits as flat as Haas) Young was able to win 5 games in a row and take the second set 6-4.
But the Citi Open waits for no man, and Young was forced to return to the court the next day, this time against the easy power, and gliding Canadian, Vasek Pospisil. Pospisil is, in many ways, very similar to his younger, better known compatriot, Milos Raonic. Having reached the final here last year, it would actually come as a surprise if he did the same here this year. But against Young, having overcome a strong challenge from Haas the night before, it was too much to ask of him to do the same with less than 24 hours rest, and in the hottest part of the day. Young can assume some measure of progress by winning his first tour level main draw match in 9 tournaments. That's the kind of streak that if it isn't snapped before long, he'll wind up in the qualifiers again shortly.
Of the two erstwhile Americans, I would argue that Harrison had the better week. Young's loss in his second match may have had some measure of fatigue involved, but in Harrison's case, I have no doubt that had his schedule been more forgiving, he would have been less generous to James Duckworth (with all due respect to the Australian). There have always been questions about the temperment of these two, of whom so much has been expected for so long, but I would argue that the technical tool kit of Harrison is superior to Young's and as such, despite his lower ranking, I would guess he will have the better summer.
Young has done much to improve his fitness and physique - the grotesque asymmetry of his left tricep is a testament to the work he has put in to be able to compete physically with and ever increasing athletic requirement in the game. But both Young and Harrison have holes to fill in their technique - namely, I feel both would do well to improve the depth and flatten the trajectory of more forehands, as both have a tendency to leave their's too short on rally shots that don't quite hit the sweet spot. Haas, for example, when he mishits, tends to have more length on them, but when Young and Harrison do the same, they are rife for the taking. I also feel that Young does a better job of getting to his optimal mix of forehands and backhands - against Haas the distribution was 65% forehands to 35% backhands, and for his game, I believe that it optimal. Harrison would do well to find a way to tip the balance in favor of his best shot, even though his is the better backhand.
Either way, both at the Citi Open, and on the ATP tour, there is no rest for the weary...they both have a little time to work on those things, but they'll have to do it quickly before the Rogers Cup.
And for another thing, who could blame him for feeling hard done by a schedule that had him play 3 matches in 3 days, with the #2 seed sadistically waiting for him if he made it through this travail on the fourth day. God rested more his first week. It would have been one thing had he breezed through the matches along the way to his first main draw, but all three matches were taxing physically, particularly the first, and the second match, which nearly got away from him in the second (just like the first) was a test of concentration and will which he passed, but apparently not with flying colors.
The great thing about the Citi Open being a 500 on the ATP tour, is that there are a lot of points on the table, to say nothing of the money, and as such, they come from far and wide for their slice of the pie. And because only one of the big 4 have made their way to DC this year, there are quite a few players in the second tier, who would fancy their chances as maximizing their results this year, and giving themselves the best opportunity to improve their seeding at the US Open. The combination of the two conditions have produced a brilliant star on the DC horizon - it burns bright, but dims quickly as a number of players with a built in following in DC are sacrificed at the altar of the game's praetorian guard.
Take the case of Donald Young - a semi-finalist a year ago, in 2015 he gained directly entry into the main draw (no small feat) but his reward was playing one of the purest ball-strikers, and most versatile and athletic players, in Tommy Haas. In that test, he receiving a passing grade, using spin and improved depth off of both wings (but particularly the forehand) to bully his older rival into a number of unforced errors, and playing further behind the baseline than his optimal court positioning would dictate. There was much improvement in his concentration as well - after breaking Haas's serve at the first time of asking, he gave he break right back. But the expected lapse in focus was nowhere to be found, as Young broke back a second time, and then consolidated with solid play.
Haas raised the level of his game in the second, threatening to break Young with an elongated game or multiple deuces - for several deuce points, Haas attacked with an inside out forehand hit relatively flat into the backhand, a great tactical option against a player who is technically asymmetrical. But Young responded in the ad court by pushing Haas further and further into his backhand corner, first with a well angled wide serve (struck from the middle of the baseline and giving him a better angle). If the serve was returned (which it wasn't a number of times) he continued to push Haas wide in the point until an error was elicited.
But Haas is resilient, and though he failed to get the job done in his first return game, he was able to do it in the second, after holding, cosolidated the hold, and looked to be on his way to pushing the match into a third. The plaintive wailing, and audible stream of consciousness which normally accompanies Young's dips in performance were there, but unlike on other occasions, they were replaced with a renewed commitment to pushing Haas with the one combination that was to his advantage - his forehand to Haas's backhand. And despite a couple of occasions where Young's forehand landed short in the court, but carried to the baseline (the perfect combination for a player who hits as flat as Haas) Young was able to win 5 games in a row and take the second set 6-4.
But the Citi Open waits for no man, and Young was forced to return to the court the next day, this time against the easy power, and gliding Canadian, Vasek Pospisil. Pospisil is, in many ways, very similar to his younger, better known compatriot, Milos Raonic. Having reached the final here last year, it would actually come as a surprise if he did the same here this year. But against Young, having overcome a strong challenge from Haas the night before, it was too much to ask of him to do the same with less than 24 hours rest, and in the hottest part of the day. Young can assume some measure of progress by winning his first tour level main draw match in 9 tournaments. That's the kind of streak that if it isn't snapped before long, he'll wind up in the qualifiers again shortly.
Of the two erstwhile Americans, I would argue that Harrison had the better week. Young's loss in his second match may have had some measure of fatigue involved, but in Harrison's case, I have no doubt that had his schedule been more forgiving, he would have been less generous to James Duckworth (with all due respect to the Australian). There have always been questions about the temperment of these two, of whom so much has been expected for so long, but I would argue that the technical tool kit of Harrison is superior to Young's and as such, despite his lower ranking, I would guess he will have the better summer.
Young has done much to improve his fitness and physique - the grotesque asymmetry of his left tricep is a testament to the work he has put in to be able to compete physically with and ever increasing athletic requirement in the game. But both Young and Harrison have holes to fill in their technique - namely, I feel both would do well to improve the depth and flatten the trajectory of more forehands, as both have a tendency to leave their's too short on rally shots that don't quite hit the sweet spot. Haas, for example, when he mishits, tends to have more length on them, but when Young and Harrison do the same, they are rife for the taking. I also feel that Young does a better job of getting to his optimal mix of forehands and backhands - against Haas the distribution was 65% forehands to 35% backhands, and for his game, I believe that it optimal. Harrison would do well to find a way to tip the balance in favor of his best shot, even though his is the better backhand.
Either way, both at the Citi Open, and on the ATP tour, there is no rest for the weary...they both have a little time to work on those things, but they'll have to do it quickly before the Rogers Cup.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
CITI OPEN: RYAN HARRISON TEMP'RING WITH EXTREME COMMITMENT
The scoreboard will leave one with the impression that a match was much more straightforward than it actually was. That wasn't the case yesterday, when Ryan Harrison won a gilt-edged encounter with Brazil's Guilherme Cezar, a three set encounter in the all to familiar suffocating heat of Washington, DC in July. There were ebbs and flows to that match, and after starting solidly, Harrison lost his way in the second, only to recover and win the third by a two-break margin. The crowd were squarely behind him, and in the cauldron of Grandstand 1, where each successive row of seats elevates precipitously like a bare-knuckle boxing venue, so that all spectators feel they have a clear view of one players triumph, and his opponent's demise, Harrison prevailed.
But the score today, in the Stadium court, in his second qualifying round encounter with Mischa Zverev, a not untalented German (by way of Russia) prospect who has himself struggled with the weight of expectations placed upon him by others, gives no inkling as to the gritty resistance in which the (still very) young American persevered. And like the undercurrents of the Potomac river's tidal basin on the National Mall, the still waters concealed a dynamic, but unseen struggle. That Harrison has been seen as the heir apparent to Andy Roddick, the most successful American tennis player of the last 15 years, must surely have been a burden on his broad shoulders. Perhaps some of that expectation, imposed indiscriminately, and internalized willfully, have done as much to interrupt what (I still believe) will be an eventual ascent to the upper echelons of the ATP tour. But today, it was the internal struggle, against the weight of expectations he places on himself, that Harrison prevailed, and this is the most encouraging aspect of what could just be the beginning of the second stage of his career.
Having won the first set by a comfortable break of serve, Harrison looked to be on his way to an easy and certain victory. And having broken in the first game of the second set, the level of expectation in the crowd created a subdued atmosphere, where the spectators impatiently awaited what seemed to be the inevitable. But Zverev, who had to that point been playing with a subdued level of effort, went up 0-30 after flattening his forehand up the line and aggressively gambling on the resulting reply being manageable. Despite his excellent movement for a player of his stature, Harrison was unable to resist and immediately gave the break back.
This most certainly would have elicited an internal, self-inflicted chiding, and having suffered the ignominy of having to qualify in the first place, on the heels of his elaborate victory the day before, it would be understandable if he suffered a let down in focus. But Harrison broke back immediately in the 3rd game at the second time of asking, a rarity in men's tennis. This emotional elasticity, a characteristic that has escaped him in the last couple of years, was as refreshing as it was encouraging, and having reduced the emotional impediment, the breadth and quality of his game shone through. Later in the set, Harrison was up another break, serving for it, but had gotten himself into some trouble down 30-40. Easily distracted by the sound of a radio blaring from the press-box, Harrison turned and gesticulated with some irritation, and asked for it to be turned off. It was, but he promptly served a double fault any.
This too was another ready-made opportunity for him to come apart at the seams. And having worked his way back into a second set tie-break for the second day in a row, he could have been forgiven for wondering if the curse of Yogi Berra's "deja vu all over again" hung above his head like the sword of Damocles. But that's when another beautiful thing happened - Harrison played a tight tie-break, with no unforced errors, and a running two-handed backhand pass up the line to set himself up for match point against the German. The match was settled with a hard serve wide in the ad court, a triumphant fist in the air, which replaced a clenched one thrown down earlier in the match, when he obliterated his racquet having failed to run down a drop shot to his backhand side.
The mental game in tennis is frequently overrated - no matter how much you want a victory, or believe in a victory, at the end of the day, a deed must be done in order to claim it. And because tennis is a zero-sum game, where each and every unit of competition in the game has one winner and a commensurate loser, a player's mental comittment to competing is not measured in how much they want to win, but in how willing they are to set aside all those little agonies of defeat along the way to the ultimate victory. As such, there is one element of the mental game that is critical to every match, and that is a players willingness to commit to intensity, in the most scientific meaning of the word - as in focus and concentration.
In the past, when asked about Harrison, Andy Roddick (a mentor of sorts) indicated that his high level of expectation might be just what the American, and American tennis players in general, need to again pervade the ATP tour. But I myself have wondered if the level of expectation Harrison has for himself has been more than healthy. The excessive impatience with certain umpires, line judges, and at times members of his own entourage, to me seemed like a kind of overflow of what was going on inside of himself. I don't know him well enough to be certain, but he wouldn't be the first person to expect so much of himself that the associated anxiety was displaced onto others.
That's why I come away from his first two results of the 2015 Citi Open for Ryan Harrison with a feeling that this could be the beginning of a very good period for him. Each victory under the cloud of adversity builds a tolerance that will serve him well going forward. The devil is in the details, and there are always areas for improvement, but the infrastructure of a formidable game of tennis is (and always has been) there. Having to play tomorrow for the third day in a row (once again during the day time, no less), may be a bit much to ask of him, and even if he can get through that match, he has the #2 seed, Kei Nishikori, waiting for him.
But the summer is long, and the US Open is on the horizon, and based on the arch of Harrison's progress, that event figures to be the end of a second beginning for his career.
But the score today, in the Stadium court, in his second qualifying round encounter with Mischa Zverev, a not untalented German (by way of Russia) prospect who has himself struggled with the weight of expectations placed upon him by others, gives no inkling as to the gritty resistance in which the (still very) young American persevered. And like the undercurrents of the Potomac river's tidal basin on the National Mall, the still waters concealed a dynamic, but unseen struggle. That Harrison has been seen as the heir apparent to Andy Roddick, the most successful American tennis player of the last 15 years, must surely have been a burden on his broad shoulders. Perhaps some of that expectation, imposed indiscriminately, and internalized willfully, have done as much to interrupt what (I still believe) will be an eventual ascent to the upper echelons of the ATP tour. But today, it was the internal struggle, against the weight of expectations he places on himself, that Harrison prevailed, and this is the most encouraging aspect of what could just be the beginning of the second stage of his career.
Having won the first set by a comfortable break of serve, Harrison looked to be on his way to an easy and certain victory. And having broken in the first game of the second set, the level of expectation in the crowd created a subdued atmosphere, where the spectators impatiently awaited what seemed to be the inevitable. But Zverev, who had to that point been playing with a subdued level of effort, went up 0-30 after flattening his forehand up the line and aggressively gambling on the resulting reply being manageable. Despite his excellent movement for a player of his stature, Harrison was unable to resist and immediately gave the break back.
This most certainly would have elicited an internal, self-inflicted chiding, and having suffered the ignominy of having to qualify in the first place, on the heels of his elaborate victory the day before, it would be understandable if he suffered a let down in focus. But Harrison broke back immediately in the 3rd game at the second time of asking, a rarity in men's tennis. This emotional elasticity, a characteristic that has escaped him in the last couple of years, was as refreshing as it was encouraging, and having reduced the emotional impediment, the breadth and quality of his game shone through. Later in the set, Harrison was up another break, serving for it, but had gotten himself into some trouble down 30-40. Easily distracted by the sound of a radio blaring from the press-box, Harrison turned and gesticulated with some irritation, and asked for it to be turned off. It was, but he promptly served a double fault any.
This too was another ready-made opportunity for him to come apart at the seams. And having worked his way back into a second set tie-break for the second day in a row, he could have been forgiven for wondering if the curse of Yogi Berra's "deja vu all over again" hung above his head like the sword of Damocles. But that's when another beautiful thing happened - Harrison played a tight tie-break, with no unforced errors, and a running two-handed backhand pass up the line to set himself up for match point against the German. The match was settled with a hard serve wide in the ad court, a triumphant fist in the air, which replaced a clenched one thrown down earlier in the match, when he obliterated his racquet having failed to run down a drop shot to his backhand side.
The mental game in tennis is frequently overrated - no matter how much you want a victory, or believe in a victory, at the end of the day, a deed must be done in order to claim it. And because tennis is a zero-sum game, where each and every unit of competition in the game has one winner and a commensurate loser, a player's mental comittment to competing is not measured in how much they want to win, but in how willing they are to set aside all those little agonies of defeat along the way to the ultimate victory. As such, there is one element of the mental game that is critical to every match, and that is a players willingness to commit to intensity, in the most scientific meaning of the word - as in focus and concentration.
In the past, when asked about Harrison, Andy Roddick (a mentor of sorts) indicated that his high level of expectation might be just what the American, and American tennis players in general, need to again pervade the ATP tour. But I myself have wondered if the level of expectation Harrison has for himself has been more than healthy. The excessive impatience with certain umpires, line judges, and at times members of his own entourage, to me seemed like a kind of overflow of what was going on inside of himself. I don't know him well enough to be certain, but he wouldn't be the first person to expect so much of himself that the associated anxiety was displaced onto others.
That's why I come away from his first two results of the 2015 Citi Open for Ryan Harrison with a feeling that this could be the beginning of a very good period for him. Each victory under the cloud of adversity builds a tolerance that will serve him well going forward. The devil is in the details, and there are always areas for improvement, but the infrastructure of a formidable game of tennis is (and always has been) there. Having to play tomorrow for the third day in a row (once again during the day time, no less), may be a bit much to ask of him, and even if he can get through that match, he has the #2 seed, Kei Nishikori, waiting for him.
But the summer is long, and the US Open is on the horizon, and based on the arch of Harrison's progress, that event figures to be the end of a second beginning for his career.
CITI OPEN: A COLLEGE EDUCATION...FOR TENNIS PLAYERS?
A funny thing happened to me watching the last match on the Stadium Court at the Citi Open Qualifying yesterday, something that was at once surprising and eminently
pleasing. I pulled up a chair in the
press box for the encounter between Alejandro Gonzalez, the 116th
ranked Columbian, and a player I’d never heard of before, Ryan Shane. A recent graduate of the
University of Virginia, he was granted a wild card this year as the NCAA champion,
a perk afforded the best collegiate player in the country both here in DC, as will be the case for him at the US Open in Flushing Meadows.
The player in the near court had an accurate, but altogether
less than impressive serve, his forehand was contrived and hitchy, and the
backhand was a double-fisted offering that was flat and penetrating, but
indistinct from the majority of backhands I’ll see this week. He looked edgy and uncertain of himself, not
particularly comfortable, but he seemed to be holding his own. Dressed in a drab grey, an almost olive shirt,
and black shorts, the blue topped shoes belied what was clearly an ensemble
hobbled together at the last minute. All
the earmarks of an American collegian who’s probably just happy to be part
of the show, and playing on the stadium court no less.
On the other side of the net was a player wearing perfectly
coordinated neon yellow short, olive green shorts with neon yellow and teal
trim, which flowed nicely into the teal laces of his olive green shoes – the
soles of his shoes were also teal. His
forehand flowed more freely, and was far more penetrating than his opponents,
his serve, flat and deceptively fast from the languid delivery, dove-tailed
technically right into a marvelously fluid, deep penetrating, heavy spinning
one handed backhand. He didn't so much as shuffle from one side of the court to the other, as bounce, as though on springs, and the ease with which he positioned himself allowed him to control the center of the court repeatedly off of both wings. I know Latin flair when I see it, and his backhand
and heavy forehand, which he hit as often from the ad as the deuce court, told
me that this was obviously the Columbian.
But I got it all wrong.
It turns out that the expertly concocted (but concocted
nonetheless) game was Gonzalez's (the Columbian), where the spectators were as likely to
see a fist pump as they were a backhand winner up the line. The one making the match worth watching,
probing and pressing with every shot, consistently placing the ball in the
right half of no man’s land, running around the backhand with aplomb and going
inside in just often enough to make his inside out delivery all the more
effective, was Ryan Shane, the American.
The emergence of a number of quality American players who’ve
come through the ranks of collegiate tennis is nostalgic for many, harkening
back to the days when the US Open champion was as likely to be a former NCAA
champion as a former boys champion. But
as more money poured into the game, as a result of the exploits of the the Arthur
Ashe (UCLA 1965), Jimmy Connors (UCLA 1971) and John McEnroe’s (Standford, 1978) of the world, the likelihood of a
successful player on the ATP tour having played NCAA tennis diminished
precipitously. But the modern game,
heavy as it is on players having their greatest success just before and just
after they turn 30, stretches the horizon on the back end of one’s career,
but more importantly, possibly on the front end as well.
This means the prospect of losing out on the money available
to young players who turn professional is the same as the prospect of coming into the
professional game too early and burning out.
This might encourage players to seek a collegiate career, and as such,
improve the quality of tennis played at that level. And since players will be developing their
games for longer before turning professional, and can have some measure of
financial security (from a college education) without rushing into the pro's, we may even
see players develop technical capacities that are lacking more and more in
professional tennis at an alarming rate, such as serve and volley, one handed
backhands, and touch and feel. John Isner (University of Georgia), Steve Johnson (USC), Rajeev Ram (University of Illinois), are all players who made their name as top collegiate competitors. Isner is a top 20 player, a persistent Davis Cupper and dark horse in any draw he enters, and Ram recently won the title Newport, his second professional title (not ironically coming at the same tournament where he won his first in 2009). Their emergence suggests that the path of least resistance into the world of professional tennis (from the juniors), may not always be the most effective.
It turns out that Shane is a bit of an college tennis
blue-blood, from a family that includes his older brother Justin, and younger brother Zachary,
as well as fellow UVA alums who will also figure in the draw, Somdev Devaarman
(a two-time champion in 2007 and 2008, who lost to Darium King in the first
round of qualifying) and Treat Huey, an outstanding doubles specialist. Unlike Devaarman, who was born and raised in
India, and is only a tangential local, by virtue of his alma mater, Shane is almost as
local as it gets. He was born and raised
in Fairfax Virginia, went to Jeb Stuart High school, and in all likelihood was
a ball-boy here at the Citi Open for some of the players he would
have faced this week. The history of professional players who made their way to high achievement on the ATP is a long one, and while the best of the best still go straight from the juniors, Shane's unique technical symmetry, his comfort with and mastery of the subtleties of movement about the court, and that marvelous one-handed backhand he flings hither and fro like a frisbee, are a welcome development and gives hope to those of us who want to see more complete players come to the tour and play tennis a way more befitting the the awe and anticipation of tennis fans around the world.
The breadth and depth of his game, and the force of his 6’4”
frame bodes well for his future, as the professional game becomes as much a
contest of athletic prowess as technical.
But he’s no slouch in the technical area either. American coaches are encouraging young
American players to hit with more and more spin off both wings, they typically
have the innate advantage of having played ball throwing sports (which would
give them a leg up in the muscle memory for the serve), and movement that would
have been facilitated by an almost certain history of playing youth tennis on
har-tru.
I learned my lesson today – taking nothing for granted, and
don’t assume anything about anyone you meet on the tennis court. Professional players beware: if you expect the guy across the net to be more nervous
and less technical than you just because he played college tennis...he could just be expecting the exact same of you because you didn't.
ADDENDUM:
With egg on my face, I must admit that I neglected to include in the line up of NCAA champions at the Citi Open one Blaz Rola of Ohio State, who won the men's singles title in 2013 over Jarmere Jenkins of the University of Virginia.
ADDENDUM:
With egg on my face, I must admit that I neglected to include in the line up of NCAA champions at the Citi Open one Blaz Rola of Ohio State, who won the men's singles title in 2013 over Jarmere Jenkins of the University of Virginia.
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