An Ode to Tennis
Roger Federer on video game God Mode is the most achingly beautiful performance in sports today. David Foster Wallace has called it a religious experience. It is something that is hard to describe to non-tennis fans, but if you've ever played the sport competitively and you happen to catch the magical moments when Federer activates God Mode, your mind reels as you watch the immaculate footwork that makes him appear to float around the court, serves that nail the coffin corners, one handed groundstrokes that paint lines, and winners that apparate out of nowhere. Nowhere. Impossible winners that no one else in the universe hits. Backspin lobs, angled drop shots, flattened inside-out short-hop crosscourt winners on a dead retreat. TV commentators like tennis legend John McEnroe describe it thusly: "Too good."
These Federer God Mode moments have become increasingly rare. Age is probably a factor. One's reaction time is inevitably dulled as one nears the big 3-0. And tennis is a sport that punishes those even a millisecond late on their shots. As such, Federer Shanks are more commonly on display since 2008. Still, the man is still maddeningly successful by normal standards. Gone are the years when he bags 3 out of the 4 majors and wins over 90 matches and loses less than 5. But he has still managed to win at least one slam a year, and in 2009 when his achilles heel Rafael Nadal was unexpectedly upset by Robin Soderling and then subsequently injured for Wimbledon, Federer bagged the coveted French/Wimbledon double slam to finally achieve the career slam and cement his claim as the Greatest Of All Time.
Tennis is the closest thing to one-on-one duels we have today. Boxing and UFC are close, but at the highest level, too difficult to appreciate, and at lower levels, too uncivilized. Plus, they get coached inbetween rounds. In tennis, coaching is forbidden during the entire match. It is strictly punch for counterpunch. It is a physical, fast, and mentally challenging sport that pits the will and skill of one man versus another and nobody else.
After winning the 2010 Australian Open, Federer whiffed on the next three majors, falling spectacularly in the quarterfinals in both the French and Wimbledon. He was a match point away from making the U.S. Open finals but shanked it away (with due credit to a gutsy Novak Djokovic who hung tough and forced the errors). Meanwhile, Rafael Nadal won all of them. All three. At a younger age than Federer, Nadal is ahead of his total Grand Slams won pace, earlier to achieve the career slam, and quite frighteningly, is more dominant now than Federer was at his prime. Nadal possesses a primal fierceness during his matches, stalking the court with a puma's focus, punctuating his forehands with an upper-cut finish and trademark bellow, and has an unparalleled mental toughness that causes most of his opponents to eventually wilt in the face of his relentless assault.
"UNHHH!" Upper-cut. The fuzzy yellow ball spinning so violently over the net that it kicks up above shoulder height of all but the tallest players after it bounces. UNHHH! UNHHH! UNHHH! Nadal flies around the court, covering every inch, never giving any quarter, repeatedly crushing the tennis ball back at his opponent.
Compared to Federer's beautiful, float-like-a-butterfly-sting-like-a-bee game, it cannot be more different. Federer is Michaelangelo, Beethoven, Da Vinci. Nadal is a Caterpillar bulldozer. And much to my chagrin, the bulldozer has become the clearly superior player, head-to-head or otherwise. Nadal has systematically, over the past 3-4 years, eliminated every weakness in his game. He has improved his serve, picked up his aggression, rounded out his net game, and never succumbs to extended shankfests. The only, and I mean only weakness is his potential longevity. While Federer at 29 is still easily the 2nd best player in the world when most tennis players at that age have either burned out or are tumbling down the rankings, Nadal has had bouts of problems with injuries thanks to the punishing way he plays. One day, he will not be able to bounce back as quickly. I will be shocked if he has the same longevity as Roger Federer.
Even though the NFL is in the throes of its playoff season, the Super Bowl mere weeks away, I find myself immensely bored of the sport. This is coming from a guy who has played in multiple fantasy football leagues for the better part of the decade, who has incomprehensibly rooted for the Buffalo Bills ever since the run-and-gun Jim Kelly days, and who has been to Vegas multiple times to experience and wager on the Super Bowl. I am no spring chicken when it comes to the NFL. I have lived and breathed it for nearly 20 years.
But man is it boring these days. I can't quite put my finger on why I feel this way, but that is besides the point and perhaps a topic to revisit another day. The point is, despite this being prime football watching season, I largely ignore it and focus most of my sports energy on tennis. Once again, the Australian Open has come around, and once again, my sleeping schedule has been thrown completely off kilter. I stay awake to nearly midnight to watch the "afternoon" matches, and rouse myself at 3:30am to watch the "night" matches live. Most unhelpful is the fact that I was recently in Asia for two weeks, then Los Angeles, and finally back in New York. That's three distinct timezones, all of which has my body and circadian rhythm completely baffled.
The storyline in the men's tour these days grows increasingly rich. Federer and Nadal have held vice-grips on the top two rankings and various Grand Slam trophies over the past 7 years. And while Federer seems to be finally slowly succumbing to age, Nadal enters this Aussie Open having won the three previous Slams and looking to be the first man to hold all four Slams concurrently since Rod Laver in the '60s. All the talk is surrounding the "Rafa Slam". Can he or can he not? Will we see yet another Roger-Rafa final after having gone all of 2010 without one? Deservedly so, most of the attention is heaped on those two men who have alternately been King and Emperor of the ATP tour for so long.
Right behind them are a bevy of talent that, on any given day, have the raw talent to beat either men. Novak Djokovic leads this second tier, a Serbian who is nearly as athletic as Nadal and has nearly the shot making genius of Federer. He is one of only two men who has won a Slam in the past 23 Slams who is not named Federer or Nadal. And it happens to be right here at the Australian Open back in 2008. His greatest weakness has always been his head--when the ball doesn't bounce his way, he would suffer mental breakdowns. But these episodes have become rare. The difference in his maturity over the past year is palpable, and Djokovic has been showing signs of making the tennis pantheon a threesome.
And then there is Andy Murray, a counter-punching specialist out of the Andre Agassi mold that all of Great Britain has pinned their hopes on, poor guy (even though he's Scottish, the Brits haven't had a home grown champion since, like, the '30s). There is Robin Soderling and Tomas Berdych and Juan Martin Del Potro (the other non-Roger/Rafa Slam winner), tall, powerful, quick athletes that embody the prototype of the next generation tennis player. These guys serve hard, hit hard, and basically make the game faster than it has ever been played before.
Any of these guys, on any given day, can and have beaten Federer and Nadal. What separates them is consistency and mental focus, but if they can just hold it together for two weeks and string together 7 straight wins, any of them can win a Grand Slam.
The more tennis I watch and read, the more I realize how utterly brutal the game is. To be a top flight player, you must start training the minute you basically learn how to walk. You have to deeply ingrain into your instincts the mechanics of controlling a small, fuzzy ball moving at 90 mph in milliseconds. There is simply no time to actively think, only react. I played "competitively" during high school, but I was far from competitive. I experienced first hand the different tiers of skill that make up tennis. I used to think some players on our team were unbeatable, but then they would get walloped by an opponent and I would have to recalibrate my reality. Now that guy is truly unbeatable. Then that guy who easily beat the #1 singles player on our team would be walloped by another opponent, and I would come to the depressing realization how far down the tennis food chain I was. Whenever you think you've seen the best, you really actually have no idea. David Foster Wallace wrote another piece on tennis titled String Theory where he followed a pro player named Michael Joyce who, at his very apex, was ranked 64th in the world. I quote:
At the very top levels, say, the top 20 players in the world, it is almost completely mental. Worst still, the scoring system is setup to break a person's psyche. Unlike most sports where whoever posts the most points at the end of the day wins, tennis is a million little games embedded in each other like a Russian nesting doll. At a Grand Slam, it is best out of 5 sets. To win a set, you have to win at least 6 games and win by two. To win a game, you have to win four points (in order: 15, 30, 40 and game), and again, win by two. So consider this scenario, which is entirely possible: you are up two sets to none at a Slam, and in the third set, you are up 5 games to 4, 40-0. Okay, you are literally one point away from winning the match, but then you choke it away. All of a sudden, it's 5 games a piece, and now you have to start the next game over at 0-0 after being one point away from the match. Naturally, this gets into your head and you berate yourself for choking, which causes you to play nervously, conservatively, and all of a sudden, you've lost your mojo. You lose two more games in succession and lose the set 5 games to 7. Now, it's two sets to one, and you have to basically start from scratch again and win at least 6 more games. It's like being an inch away from the summit at Mt. Everest, but then sliding halfway down. Tell me this doesn't have the tendency drive a person completely mad, and I will call you a liar. When it is match point in a big game, everyone loses their nerves. Everyone. You can only hope your instincts and a big helping of luck will carry you over that final inch. No wonder Michael Chang thanked God every time he won a match.
The quarterfinals of the 2011 Aussie Open shook out pretty much according to plan. (By the way, this is another reason why the ATP tour is the most interesting sport at the moment--there is a clear cut hierarchy with clear cut favorites. So, unlike most other sports where upsets happen so regularly the word itself has become meaningless [case and point: Seahawks over Saints], when Federer or Nadal or Djokovic or Murray goes down in the early rounds of a slam, it's TRULY an upset. Upsets are supposed to be rare, shocking, and portend to a growing story previously undetected by the consensus, dammit.) The first major shocker was Nadal falling to Spanish compatriot David Ferrer. Ferrer is ranked #7 in the world, but few consider him a true contender. He is like the perennial highly-ranked-but-not-a-real-threat Nikolay Davydanko. They are undoubtedly skilled and consistent, but are missing that certain je ne sais quoi, whether it's a signature style or unassailable mental strength. Ferrer gamely battled Nadal for the first few games of the first set, but just when it looked like he was chiseling Ferrer down like he does to every opponent, he starts pulling up lame. TV announcers are going crazy speculating what the issue could be, ranging from the back to the knees to the groin. Whatever the cause, Nadal falls meekly 6-4, 6-2, 6-3, an injured shell of his ferocious self, and bids adieu to his chase of the Rafa Slam.
The rest of the quarters goes by uneventfully. Federer dismisses fellow Swiss Stan Wawrinka like a horse does to a fly with its tail. Vintage God Mode was in fully display, and analysts gush about Federer "in full flight", covering the court with epic grace, weaving winners from all corners, and looking regal and bafflingly un-sweaty throughout. Andy Murray cuts down a young up-and-comer Alexandr Dolgopolov, and Djokovic impressively crushes Tomas Berdych 6-1, 7-6, 6-1, who was playing as big and consistently as anyone thus far and was predicted to give the Djoker at least a modicum of a challenge. Nope. Crushed.
The big showdown, the "true final", is clearly Djokovic versus Federer. Not only has Djokovic's ascent over the past year has been single-minded, shades of a budding rivalry dance in the background. Three years ago, the Djoker took home his first Grand Slam at this very event, besting Federer in the same round, the semi-finals. Last year's U.S. Open played out similarly, with Djokovic fighting off a couple of match points in the semi's and snatching victory from the jaws of yet another Federer defeat (and was it not for a Rafael Nadal at his absolute terrifying physical peak, starving for his first ever U.S. Open title, Djoker likely would have taken the 2010 U.S. Open crown). So it's clear the match is going to be very competitive, with neither side remotely intimidated by the other and the outcome boiling down to the few millimeters that separate tennis artistry from choke artist. And furthermore, no one expects Ferrer to beat Murray on the other side of the draw anyway.
The outcome, a straight sets 7-6, 7-5, 6-4 victory for Djokovic, belied the intensity and tightness of the match. At the risk of over-simplifying, Federer played well, but Djokovic played better. The two have clearly faced each other so many times that each know the keys to victory, pardon the cliche. For Federer to win, he simply has to stay in sixth gear for as long as possible, while Djokovic's counter is to prevent that shift to sixth gear. Because sixth gear Federer is God Mode Federer, where his eyes start to deconstruct the court and setup winners in advance, his groundstrokes become unerring laser beams, and his service games are an impenetrable torrent of aces. As Steve Tignor puts it, it is the ultimate compliment, because it implies that Roger only ever loses on his terms, i.e. if he cannot execute, if he cannot achieve full flight, because his "A" game is quite simply immaculate and unbeatable.
Novak Djokovic prevented Federer's lift-off by channeling the powers of Plastic Man and diligently protecting the baseline with a jaw-dropping display of flexibility and speed. I have never seen a tennis player defend the way he did in that game. When Federer would shift up his aggression, taking balls on the rise with flat, pace-sizzling strokes at angles that would yank a typical opponent way off the court, Djokovic would streeeetch, slide, block the shot back with equal pace, and snap back to the center like a rubber band. The stretch and slide move is uniquely his, especially on a hard court, where if any normal human being attempted a remotely similar stunt, they would immediately tear their groin and break their ankles. The result being an increasingly frustrated Federer, who normally could put away rallies with a few such devastating strokes, having to pull off multiples more of them to win points. This was where the battle was waged. Could Roger stay in sixth gear and uncork spectacle after spectacle? Or can Novak defend ad nauseam and coax out unforced errors?
The results speak clearly as to who succeeded. But I don't believe it is a harbinger of things to come. Because in the end, what Djokovic pulled off was flat out spectacular, and I question its ultimate sustainability. Every great tennis player is capable of going on benders where they simply beat the shit out of the ball, pull off unbelievably athletic maneuvers, and do not ever miss. For the most of 2010, that was Nadal, and for the 2011 Australian Open, that was Djokovic, who proceeded to anti-climatically wax Andy Murray and claim his second Grand Slam title.
In contrast, what has made Federer the Greatest of All Time is his ability to be so much better than everyone else without having to "go unconscious", as the saying goes. He can shift into sixth gear on a consistent basis; shots no one else can see or make is in his inventory. It is only if an opponent can repeatedly thwart his rhythm do they have a chance, and while defense wins championships in most major sports, it is not the consistent case in tennis, which typically rewards the aggressor, the player who controls the points like a symphony conductor. This thesis is backed up by the amazing longevity of Roger Federer, who broke into super-stardom by stomping the aging legends of the previous generation a decade ago and since vacuumed in more Grand Slam trophies than anyone else in history. Andre Agassi, in his sublime autobiography "Open", proclaimed him to be without weakness--the Everest of his generation. Djokovic will regress to missing periodically. Nadal's body will betray him more frequently as he puts on ever more mileage. But Federer, all he has to do, is just play his game. His beautiful, fluid, effortless game.
These Federer God Mode moments have become increasingly rare. Age is probably a factor. One's reaction time is inevitably dulled as one nears the big 3-0. And tennis is a sport that punishes those even a millisecond late on their shots. As such, Federer Shanks are more commonly on display since 2008. Still, the man is still maddeningly successful by normal standards. Gone are the years when he bags 3 out of the 4 majors and wins over 90 matches and loses less than 5. But he has still managed to win at least one slam a year, and in 2009 when his achilles heel Rafael Nadal was unexpectedly upset by Robin Soderling and then subsequently injured for Wimbledon, Federer bagged the coveted French/Wimbledon double slam to finally achieve the career slam and cement his claim as the Greatest Of All Time.
Tennis is the closest thing to one-on-one duels we have today. Boxing and UFC are close, but at the highest level, too difficult to appreciate, and at lower levels, too uncivilized. Plus, they get coached inbetween rounds. In tennis, coaching is forbidden during the entire match. It is strictly punch for counterpunch. It is a physical, fast, and mentally challenging sport that pits the will and skill of one man versus another and nobody else.
***
After winning the 2010 Australian Open, Federer whiffed on the next three majors, falling spectacularly in the quarterfinals in both the French and Wimbledon. He was a match point away from making the U.S. Open finals but shanked it away (with due credit to a gutsy Novak Djokovic who hung tough and forced the errors). Meanwhile, Rafael Nadal won all of them. All three. At a younger age than Federer, Nadal is ahead of his total Grand Slams won pace, earlier to achieve the career slam, and quite frighteningly, is more dominant now than Federer was at his prime. Nadal possesses a primal fierceness during his matches, stalking the court with a puma's focus, punctuating his forehands with an upper-cut finish and trademark bellow, and has an unparalleled mental toughness that causes most of his opponents to eventually wilt in the face of his relentless assault.
"UNHHH!" Upper-cut. The fuzzy yellow ball spinning so violently over the net that it kicks up above shoulder height of all but the tallest players after it bounces. UNHHH! UNHHH! UNHHH! Nadal flies around the court, covering every inch, never giving any quarter, repeatedly crushing the tennis ball back at his opponent.
Compared to Federer's beautiful, float-like-a-butterfly-sting-like-a-bee game, it cannot be more different. Federer is Michaelangelo, Beethoven, Da Vinci. Nadal is a Caterpillar bulldozer. And much to my chagrin, the bulldozer has become the clearly superior player, head-to-head or otherwise. Nadal has systematically, over the past 3-4 years, eliminated every weakness in his game. He has improved his serve, picked up his aggression, rounded out his net game, and never succumbs to extended shankfests. The only, and I mean only weakness is his potential longevity. While Federer at 29 is still easily the 2nd best player in the world when most tennis players at that age have either burned out or are tumbling down the rankings, Nadal has had bouts of problems with injuries thanks to the punishing way he plays. One day, he will not be able to bounce back as quickly. I will be shocked if he has the same longevity as Roger Federer.
***
Even though the NFL is in the throes of its playoff season, the Super Bowl mere weeks away, I find myself immensely bored of the sport. This is coming from a guy who has played in multiple fantasy football leagues for the better part of the decade, who has incomprehensibly rooted for the Buffalo Bills ever since the run-and-gun Jim Kelly days, and who has been to Vegas multiple times to experience and wager on the Super Bowl. I am no spring chicken when it comes to the NFL. I have lived and breathed it for nearly 20 years.
But man is it boring these days. I can't quite put my finger on why I feel this way, but that is besides the point and perhaps a topic to revisit another day. The point is, despite this being prime football watching season, I largely ignore it and focus most of my sports energy on tennis. Once again, the Australian Open has come around, and once again, my sleeping schedule has been thrown completely off kilter. I stay awake to nearly midnight to watch the "afternoon" matches, and rouse myself at 3:30am to watch the "night" matches live. Most unhelpful is the fact that I was recently in Asia for two weeks, then Los Angeles, and finally back in New York. That's three distinct timezones, all of which has my body and circadian rhythm completely baffled.
The storyline in the men's tour these days grows increasingly rich. Federer and Nadal have held vice-grips on the top two rankings and various Grand Slam trophies over the past 7 years. And while Federer seems to be finally slowly succumbing to age, Nadal enters this Aussie Open having won the three previous Slams and looking to be the first man to hold all four Slams concurrently since Rod Laver in the '60s. All the talk is surrounding the "Rafa Slam". Can he or can he not? Will we see yet another Roger-Rafa final after having gone all of 2010 without one? Deservedly so, most of the attention is heaped on those two men who have alternately been King and Emperor of the ATP tour for so long.
Right behind them are a bevy of talent that, on any given day, have the raw talent to beat either men. Novak Djokovic leads this second tier, a Serbian who is nearly as athletic as Nadal and has nearly the shot making genius of Federer. He is one of only two men who has won a Slam in the past 23 Slams who is not named Federer or Nadal. And it happens to be right here at the Australian Open back in 2008. His greatest weakness has always been his head--when the ball doesn't bounce his way, he would suffer mental breakdowns. But these episodes have become rare. The difference in his maturity over the past year is palpable, and Djokovic has been showing signs of making the tennis pantheon a threesome.
And then there is Andy Murray, a counter-punching specialist out of the Andre Agassi mold that all of Great Britain has pinned their hopes on, poor guy (even though he's Scottish, the Brits haven't had a home grown champion since, like, the '30s). There is Robin Soderling and Tomas Berdych and Juan Martin Del Potro (the other non-Roger/Rafa Slam winner), tall, powerful, quick athletes that embody the prototype of the next generation tennis player. These guys serve hard, hit hard, and basically make the game faster than it has ever been played before.
Any of these guys, on any given day, can and have beaten Federer and Nadal. What separates them is consistency and mental focus, but if they can just hold it together for two weeks and string together 7 straight wins, any of them can win a Grand Slam.
***
The more tennis I watch and read, the more I realize how utterly brutal the game is. To be a top flight player, you must start training the minute you basically learn how to walk. You have to deeply ingrain into your instincts the mechanics of controlling a small, fuzzy ball moving at 90 mph in milliseconds. There is simply no time to actively think, only react. I played "competitively" during high school, but I was far from competitive. I experienced first hand the different tiers of skill that make up tennis. I used to think some players on our team were unbeatable, but then they would get walloped by an opponent and I would have to recalibrate my reality. Now that guy is truly unbeatable. Then that guy who easily beat the #1 singles player on our team would be walloped by another opponent, and I would come to the depressing realization how far down the tennis food chain I was. Whenever you think you've seen the best, you really actually have no idea. David Foster Wallace wrote another piece on tennis titled String Theory where he followed a pro player named Michael Joyce who, at his very apex, was ranked 64th in the world. I quote:
"Watching [Jakob] Hlasek practice is probably the first time it really strikes me how good these professionals are, because even just fucking around Hlasek is the most impressive tennis player I’ve ever seen (Joyce is even more impressive, but I hadn't seen Joyce yet. And Enqvist is even more impressive than Joyce, and Agassi is even more impressive than Enqvist). I’d be surprised if anybody reading this article has ever heard of Jakob Hlasek. By the distorted standards of TV’s obsession with Grand Slam finals and the world’s top five, Hlasek is merely an also-ran."The moral of the story is tennis is really, really, really hard to become a pro at and make a living off of. Once you dedicate your life to it, you don't have any time to learn any other skills. You must be a tennis player or else make a living at the peripheries of the sport, e.g. coach a tennis pro, teach at a tennis academy, provide color commentary for TV, etc. I think it's harder than any other major sport with the exception of prize fighting. Fitting, because tennis is very much like a mortal kombat tournament where you face opponent after opponent, each with different styles, different strengths, different weaknesses, and you do it all on your own, by your lonesome, winner take all, loser goes home.
At the very top levels, say, the top 20 players in the world, it is almost completely mental. Worst still, the scoring system is setup to break a person's psyche. Unlike most sports where whoever posts the most points at the end of the day wins, tennis is a million little games embedded in each other like a Russian nesting doll. At a Grand Slam, it is best out of 5 sets. To win a set, you have to win at least 6 games and win by two. To win a game, you have to win four points (in order: 15, 30, 40 and game), and again, win by two. So consider this scenario, which is entirely possible: you are up two sets to none at a Slam, and in the third set, you are up 5 games to 4, 40-0. Okay, you are literally one point away from winning the match, but then you choke it away. All of a sudden, it's 5 games a piece, and now you have to start the next game over at 0-0 after being one point away from the match. Naturally, this gets into your head and you berate yourself for choking, which causes you to play nervously, conservatively, and all of a sudden, you've lost your mojo. You lose two more games in succession and lose the set 5 games to 7. Now, it's two sets to one, and you have to basically start from scratch again and win at least 6 more games. It's like being an inch away from the summit at Mt. Everest, but then sliding halfway down. Tell me this doesn't have the tendency drive a person completely mad, and I will call you a liar. When it is match point in a big game, everyone loses their nerves. Everyone. You can only hope your instincts and a big helping of luck will carry you over that final inch. No wonder Michael Chang thanked God every time he won a match.
***
The quarterfinals of the 2011 Aussie Open shook out pretty much according to plan. (By the way, this is another reason why the ATP tour is the most interesting sport at the moment--there is a clear cut hierarchy with clear cut favorites. So, unlike most other sports where upsets happen so regularly the word itself has become meaningless [case and point: Seahawks over Saints], when Federer or Nadal or Djokovic or Murray goes down in the early rounds of a slam, it's TRULY an upset. Upsets are supposed to be rare, shocking, and portend to a growing story previously undetected by the consensus, dammit.) The first major shocker was Nadal falling to Spanish compatriot David Ferrer. Ferrer is ranked #7 in the world, but few consider him a true contender. He is like the perennial highly-ranked-but-not-a-real-threat Nikolay Davydanko. They are undoubtedly skilled and consistent, but are missing that certain je ne sais quoi, whether it's a signature style or unassailable mental strength. Ferrer gamely battled Nadal for the first few games of the first set, but just when it looked like he was chiseling Ferrer down like he does to every opponent, he starts pulling up lame. TV announcers are going crazy speculating what the issue could be, ranging from the back to the knees to the groin. Whatever the cause, Nadal falls meekly 6-4, 6-2, 6-3, an injured shell of his ferocious self, and bids adieu to his chase of the Rafa Slam.
The rest of the quarters goes by uneventfully. Federer dismisses fellow Swiss Stan Wawrinka like a horse does to a fly with its tail. Vintage God Mode was in fully display, and analysts gush about Federer "in full flight", covering the court with epic grace, weaving winners from all corners, and looking regal and bafflingly un-sweaty throughout. Andy Murray cuts down a young up-and-comer Alexandr Dolgopolov, and Djokovic impressively crushes Tomas Berdych 6-1, 7-6, 6-1, who was playing as big and consistently as anyone thus far and was predicted to give the Djoker at least a modicum of a challenge. Nope. Crushed.
The big showdown, the "true final", is clearly Djokovic versus Federer. Not only has Djokovic's ascent over the past year has been single-minded, shades of a budding rivalry dance in the background. Three years ago, the Djoker took home his first Grand Slam at this very event, besting Federer in the same round, the semi-finals. Last year's U.S. Open played out similarly, with Djokovic fighting off a couple of match points in the semi's and snatching victory from the jaws of yet another Federer defeat (and was it not for a Rafael Nadal at his absolute terrifying physical peak, starving for his first ever U.S. Open title, Djoker likely would have taken the 2010 U.S. Open crown). So it's clear the match is going to be very competitive, with neither side remotely intimidated by the other and the outcome boiling down to the few millimeters that separate tennis artistry from choke artist. And furthermore, no one expects Ferrer to beat Murray on the other side of the draw anyway.
***
The outcome, a straight sets 7-6, 7-5, 6-4 victory for Djokovic, belied the intensity and tightness of the match. At the risk of over-simplifying, Federer played well, but Djokovic played better. The two have clearly faced each other so many times that each know the keys to victory, pardon the cliche. For Federer to win, he simply has to stay in sixth gear for as long as possible, while Djokovic's counter is to prevent that shift to sixth gear. Because sixth gear Federer is God Mode Federer, where his eyes start to deconstruct the court and setup winners in advance, his groundstrokes become unerring laser beams, and his service games are an impenetrable torrent of aces. As Steve Tignor puts it, it is the ultimate compliment, because it implies that Roger only ever loses on his terms, i.e. if he cannot execute, if he cannot achieve full flight, because his "A" game is quite simply immaculate and unbeatable.
Novak Djokovic prevented Federer's lift-off by channeling the powers of Plastic Man and diligently protecting the baseline with a jaw-dropping display of flexibility and speed. I have never seen a tennis player defend the way he did in that game. When Federer would shift up his aggression, taking balls on the rise with flat, pace-sizzling strokes at angles that would yank a typical opponent way off the court, Djokovic would streeeetch, slide, block the shot back with equal pace, and snap back to the center like a rubber band. The stretch and slide move is uniquely his, especially on a hard court, where if any normal human being attempted a remotely similar stunt, they would immediately tear their groin and break their ankles. The result being an increasingly frustrated Federer, who normally could put away rallies with a few such devastating strokes, having to pull off multiples more of them to win points. This was where the battle was waged. Could Roger stay in sixth gear and uncork spectacle after spectacle? Or can Novak defend ad nauseam and coax out unforced errors?
The results speak clearly as to who succeeded. But I don't believe it is a harbinger of things to come. Because in the end, what Djokovic pulled off was flat out spectacular, and I question its ultimate sustainability. Every great tennis player is capable of going on benders where they simply beat the shit out of the ball, pull off unbelievably athletic maneuvers, and do not ever miss. For the most of 2010, that was Nadal, and for the 2011 Australian Open, that was Djokovic, who proceeded to anti-climatically wax Andy Murray and claim his second Grand Slam title.
In contrast, what has made Federer the Greatest of All Time is his ability to be so much better than everyone else without having to "go unconscious", as the saying goes. He can shift into sixth gear on a consistent basis; shots no one else can see or make is in his inventory. It is only if an opponent can repeatedly thwart his rhythm do they have a chance, and while defense wins championships in most major sports, it is not the consistent case in tennis, which typically rewards the aggressor, the player who controls the points like a symphony conductor. This thesis is backed up by the amazing longevity of Roger Federer, who broke into super-stardom by stomping the aging legends of the previous generation a decade ago and since vacuumed in more Grand Slam trophies than anyone else in history. Andre Agassi, in his sublime autobiography "Open", proclaimed him to be without weakness--the Everest of his generation. Djokovic will regress to missing periodically. Nadal's body will betray him more frequently as he puts on ever more mileage. But Federer, all he has to do, is just play his game. His beautiful, fluid, effortless game.
