Egotism ....a lifelong romance

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

The odds

The Women
2:17 Martina Hingis

Hingis can outwit anyone, except those that can overpower her wit. If Martina can conquer her fears of her arch nemesis aka the active Williams (or better still, employ someone else to do it for her – Vaidisova, perhaps?), she’ll be well on her way to winning the crown. It’s about time someone joined little Justine in the battle of brain over brawn! This is surely one player I’d be rooting for; that’s assuming her compatriot in the men's draw doesn't monopolize my respiratory oxygen -- he does so takes the breath away!
1:7 Maria Sharapova
Not to wink at the other side of the coin – there’s a good chance Sharapova will power her way to another trophy, assuming someone takes down the brainiacs for her.
1:4 Kim Clijsters
If Clijsters keeps her eye on the ball instead of on her retirement, she’d probably have a shot at lifting the trophy this year. She has better grass stats than anyone, but numbers wont help her tackle her fellow countrywoman, who’ll potentially meet her in the semi-finals (unless anti-inflammatory drugs get in the way).
1:3 Amelie Mauresmo
Now that Mauresmo has put the title of “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride” behind her, she can put her stunning slice backhands and artful volleys to good use. And what better place to do it than on the slick grass of the All England Club – there is no better winner at Wimbledon than one with a genuine love affair with the net and noone currently on the tour can lay claim to that title than the Frenchwoman (she may not shun the red clay in her home country, but her game sure does).
4:11 Just about anyone
If the men’s champion could literally be carved in stone (or silver as the case may be) the past few years, the women’s tour is as unpredictable as it has ever been. Let’s face it – the last eight slams have been bagged by seven different women, so it’s only fair to predict a “Who in the world is that?”
3:8 Venus Williams
There’s no ruling out Venus Williams at any major in any year, but certainly not at Wimbledon when she is defending her title.
2:5 Justine Henin-Hardenne
Henin-Hardenne is clearly the best player on the women’s tour (numbers don’t tell the whole truth) and any question that the diminutive Belgian does not have the power to tackle the slick turf was erased when she won the warm-up grass tournament just two weeks after defending her title on the grueling clay of Paris. Plus, this is the one slam she does not have – Justine is hard enough to beat when she is not thirsting for a win. On second thoughts, is she ever not?

The Men
Just for the record, it’s hard to imagine anyone but Roger lifting the trophy this year, but I try to be politically correct – gender is but a touchy subject. Just ask Larry Summers.
1:10 Andy Roddick
I’d never rule out A-Rod’s chances on grass. Moreover, since Roger has now lost that halo around his head of being unbeaten and plausibly unbeatable in grand slam finals, if Andy does get that far, he might start believing he could win. What’s more, he’s seeded third and picked to play in the draw opposite Federer - yeah, folks, I’m reading the hat.
1:4 Lleyton Hewitt
If fighter instinct was all one needed to win a slam, I’d have to go with Lleyton, quite literally, cos he’s fought with almost everyone on the tour. Granted, his performance has been less than stellar this season but then, who has exactly shined in the presence of the brilliance that is Roger Federer? In Hewitt’s favor, he did win the warm-up tournament in Queens and was the last player to sprint his way to the coveted trophy before the Roger reign began.
2:7 Marat Safin*
If there is one thing that can make grass more unpredictable than it is, it is an unpredictable player. And no one fits that bill better than Marat -- he’s capable of beating Federer in 5 grueling sets and being beaten by a qualifier in straights. Besides, there’s the wishful thought a tennis fan has to harbor -- one of watching a temperamental big server pitted against an unruffled all-courter with pure tennis artistry on display from both sides of the court, and hopefully, with at least one sighting of a racket gone awry.
*The reason Safin - who is unseeded this Wimbledon largely due to absenteeism and who's last major appearance was at the '05 Oz Open - is given a higher odd than the second and sixth seeds, who appear a lot more in-form is because should he get there, Marat has a better shot at beating Federer, who seems to stop both Andy and Lleyton dead in their tracks.
3:10 Andre Agassi
It’s true that Andre’s been sidelined by injury and age, but let’s face it, the last player to have given Roger a run for his money at a major (other than the Spaniard that ran away with his money) is the veteran. And, of course, he has a very real reason to be in a hurry to up his 8-time grand slam record, while trying to delay the Swissman’s quest to equal his own.
3:8 David Nalbandian
‘Is it my turn now?’ The world number three’s record against Federer is second only to Nadal. So, if anyone can beat the Swissman on a surface other than clay, it’d have to be the Argentine. Let’s not forget his brilliant performance against Roger in the semis at Rolland Garros and if not for Nalbandian bowing out, Federer may have been saved the embarrassment of literally donating the championship to Rafa.
99:100 Roger Federer
Every time you even begin to question the Swiss maestro’s abilities (a bit unfairly, considering his loss at the French Open final that has gotten even avid Roger fans - including this one - analyzing weaknesses in his sublime game was only his first loss in a major in an entire calendar year) he comes back to dazzle, if his flourish in the W opener against Gasquet is anything to go by – perfectly orchestrated shots to every inch of the court, from every inconceivable corner – in other words, a vintage Federer classic on grass, and certainly one worth waking up on the wrong side of 7 am for. The magic of Federer’s game is that it can never cease to amaze – he has enough variety for one player and then some – so whether you’re watching him effortlessly put away a Hewitt or battle it out with an Agassi (or practice with a tennis machine, for that matter), there’s one word to describe it -- beautiful. Expect to see plenty of it for the next two weeks as he artfully strums his way to another trophy at the cathedral of tennis.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

A skirmish does not a rivalry make

The next time someone calls what goes on between Federer and Nadal a rivalry, I’m going to scream. Since the blogosphere equivalent of a scream is a few hundred words of ranting, I’ll just content myself with it for now.

Federer has 7 major titles, Nadal has 1. Federer has demolished almost everything seen holding a racket anywhere in the world the past three years, Nadal rules only that roost called clay which most normal human beings haven’t figured out how to walk on, much less glide around and hit a ball on. Federer plays tennis like a jazz musician -- artfully elegant, smoothly competent, effortlessly classic and casually composed. Nadal’s only semblance to music is the grunt that grows louder by the minute and reaches a crescendo at matchpoint, his serve is truly awkward, he scrambles clumsily for every ball, and takes about a painstaking year between points [it’s hard enough to sit through a clay-court match waiting for someone to voluntarily drop the ball (pun intended), cos that seems the only respectable way to earn a point in Paris].

Even the very one-sided Sampras-Agassi “match-up” entailed a more convincing contest -- a series of meetings on a variety of surfaces, albeit resulting in the consistently ruthless demolition of one by the other.

Consider this: Nadal’s career head-to-head against Federer is 5-1, only two of those wins coming on hard courts, and in Miami in ’04, Federer was clearly not at his physical best. His record against Roger on surfaces other than clay, is hard to comprehend, cos he has never gotten far enough for us to find out. And the reason he hasn’t met Roger in early rounds is cos he’s riding on his world #2 ranking, winning as he did last year, everything there is to win on clay, except two losses (even there, he was 50-2 -- one behind Roger, whose record on hard courts was a remarkable 50-1).

Noone says it better than the eloquent Andy Roddick did about his Wimbledon clashes with the Swiss phenomenon – "I am going to have to start winning some of these matches if we are going to call it a rivalry." By the same token, Nadal will have to start playing some matches with Federer to call this a rivalry.

So, while I concede that the bicep-flaunting, long-mane sporting, fist-pumping Raffa (who would fit right into a Manga comic strip), has perfected the art of sliding and slithering on clay, and probably deserves the gold in an Olympic skating contest, he’d be better off leaving the sport of tennis to the pros.

There is little doubt that Nadal will win the French Open this year, mainly on account of his sliding talent, but hitting a tennis ball with a racket remains the Swissman’s area of expertise. And let’s not forget that Hewitt’s record against Federer was 7-0 and that of Nalbandian was 5-0 before he figured them both out and neither of them has been able to beat him since, at least in the matches that matter. And if his classic display against Nadal in Rome last month is anything to go by, it’s only a matter of time before Federer starts building his castles on clay…

I’m sorry folks, I know individual sport dwells on the idea of contrasting styles and conflicting personalities, and I know you’re hungry for a well-fought tennis match against the obviously peerless Federer, but let’s face it -- till someone comes along that can figure out a way to break the world number one on his favorite turfs, which include, the green grass at Center court, the hard courts at Melbourne and Flushing and every clay-less surface on earth, the post of a worthy rival will remain up for grabs.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Setting sigh(!!)ts on Pete...

Some things in life just don’t change.

While in tenth grade I hopped on a stage and screeched at the top of my lungs, trying to personify Eliza Doolittle, I now join the throngs of fancily clad people on Broadway and 45th to watch someone do the screeching. While it was the perfect fermentation of Indian rice-bread I insisted on as a devout vegetarian at age ten, it is the grilling of religiously-incorrect filet mignon to medium rare perfection that now holds my fancy. And while I contentedly slipped into the shoes of a tomboyish George Kirrin time after time in fifth grade, I now find a Vittoria Vetra or Dagny Taggart – a lot harder to fit my firmly entrenched feet now, but satisfying nonetheless.

And just like all else, those three weeks that stretch from the last couple in June to the first in July continue to be my favorite time of year, thanks to the green grass of Center Court and the promise of the greatest tennis player at any given time wielding his racket to create the kind of magic only the supernatural can.

So, while I await that time of year with some anticipation, the USTA drops a friendly mail in my mailbox. I have long since learned to treat a USTA notification with as much interest as I would a supermarket brochure (50 cents off a bag of chips that costs $3.99? Some good that does to my wallet). Similarly, a godforsaken tournament to be played between two unknowns in a forgotten part of the world doesn’t come anywhere close to captivating my tennis senses, even if my membership affords me a ten percent discount (a hundred wouldn’t matter when the match is between a Koukalova and a Safarova – in case you’re wondering, they exist).

So, I slid out the leaflet with practiced dispassion, only to discover that the picture was neither that of an unknown nor the place sited unfamiliar to me. The former belonged to the sportsman that could easily be the reason I watch the sport with so much passion and the latter, the city I have happily inhabited for the past year. And so the twain shall meet!

Yeah, folks, Pete Sampras is playing at the World Team Tennis Tournament in Philadelphia in July and my first order of business last morning was to book my date with destiny.

My long-uncherished dream, of course, was to watch Pistol Pete in action at Wimbledon (I have that on record in every slam-book I’ve touched since seventh grade) and this is as close as it gets.

Granted, this is no Wimbledon, but let’s wink at geography in the face of peerless genius. My due apologies to the strawberries-and-cream folk at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, but leopards don’t change their spots depending on the land they walk on (as long as that land isn’t clay!)

I can hardly wait….