LONDON—Cilic, Dimitrov, Nalbandian and Querrey might not be the names the tournament director hoped would constitute the singles order of play come Saturday, but after dire weather forecasts and plenty of surprising results, the AEGON Championships are on schedule for an intriguing weekend; a former champion, a struggling next-big-thing or two, and in the person of David Nalbandian … well … David Nalbandian. You sum him up in a pithy phrase. I can’t.
Cilic had the smoothest progress, benefiting from the retirement of Yen-Hsun Lu when 4-6, 0-2 down, the player from Chinese Taipei having completed a delayed victory over third seed Janko Tipsarevic earlier in the day. Dimitrov and Querrey both needed three sets to overcome their opponents, ninth seed Kevin Anderson and Ivan Dodig who had knocked out Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, but such a time investment — rain delays included — pales in comparison to that of David Nalbandian, who played six sets in one day and won the ones that mattered against Edouard Roger-Vasselin and Xavier Malisse to make it to his first Queen’s semifinal.
I’ve mentioned that Court 1 is my favorite place to be at Queen’s before. I don’t know how Nalbandian is feeling about it, having played enough on that particular patch of grass enough this week to know every nuance of it. He opened his long day by adding a nuance of his own; 0-1, down break point having led 40-0, he skidded chasing down a drop volley and ended up four feet later flat on his back, his heels leaving a long scar in the grass that never faded. Nalbandian — perhaps unjustly — hasn’t always enjoyed the greatest reputation as a fighter when he’s not feeling it, and the frequent bursts of impassioned Spanish that drifted over from Court 1 suggested he wasn’t enjoying the damp, windy conditions at all. Nevertheless, Roger-Vasselin wobbled just enough at the end of the second set for Nalbandian to grab it, 7-5, and even a rain delay when the Argentine was a couple of points away from the match didn’t do more than interrupt the march to victory.
A few hours later, Nalbandian returned to Court 1, this time in the company of the man he beat in the 2002 Wimbledon semifinals, Xavier Malisse. Nalbandian started brilliantly, his silky-smooth tennis at its effortless best, striking a sweet backhand winner down the line to break for 4-2. Serving to consolidate and 30-15 up, he suddenly caught his ball toss a couple of times and started to complain about the wind, giving up some poor errors to give the break back. Malisse’s ground strokes make a heavy, rich sound as they come off the racquet and he took the first set with some scorching strikes off the forehand side. Facing the prospect of coming back from a set down for the second time in a day, Nalbandian raised his game and started to serve brilliantly, stopping Malisse’s momentum cold by keeping the balls short and refusing to be drawn into the baseline battles preferred by the more rawly-powerful Malisse. As the light faded and it got colder and ever more windy, Nalbandian started to find chinks in Malisse’s armor, challenging him with razor-sharp slices and dragging him out wide whenever possible. All it needed was one devastating point, and Nalbandian found it with Malisse serving at 4-4 in the third. Pushing the Belgian deep, Nalbandian played a drop-shot to bring Malisse in, then passed him down the line where one would have sworn there was no space. Another perfectly-executed drop-shot gave him the break and Nalbandian served out his second victory of the day.
It was the finest match the Argentine has played all week, but the lingering memory I will take from it — beyond the sublime shot-making — was precipitated by another Nalbandian tumble on to the grass. Despite the seriousness with which both had competed, and the ill-tempered complaints from Malisse about the spectators and line-calling, seeing his opponent on the ground, Malisse jogged to the net and asked, ‘You all right, David?’. Nalbandian lifted a hand in acknowledgement, heaved himself to his feet and the match resumed without losing a whit of its furious intensity. But it was a nice moment between two veterans, both of whom are on the wrong side of too many injuries, an acknowledgement of a kinship beyond the struggles of the present.
Something of the same spirit was evident earlier, although in a different context. Queen’s is the first tournament I ever attended, and it will always be my favorite, but it hasn’t really felt right this week. Maybe it’s the weather or almost all the seeds losing early, or maybe it’s me; I went to a funeral for a friend on Wednesday, and ever since I’m tangled up, out of step; I can’t sleep; odd things demand and hold my attention, I can’t focus like I should. I’d like to blame my foolish decision to duck out of the Anderson-Dimitrov match just before Dimitrov took the advantage on a loss-addled brain, but in the end it gives me the most peaceful moment I’ve enjoyed in some time. I went to watch Lleyton Hewitt and Andy Roddick play doubles together against Daniel Nestor and Max Mirnyi on Court 1, during a brief window of prolonged sunshine as the brisk wind blew the clouds seemingly in a careful circuit around this tiny pocket of west London. It was an easy victory for the top seeds, 6-2, 7-5 — Hewitt and Roddick poor in the first set, and just not as good as the doubles veterans in the second — but although it’s a serious matter for Nestor and Mirnyi, and Hewitt and Roddick play hard, something about the setting robs the competition and the loss of all its urgency and sting. I don’t take notes, I just watch and enjoy the two veterans play together against the backdrop of the huge billboard bearing the roster of former champions, both their names featured prominently.
It feels good to watch Roddick arguing a point with the umpire, intent on seeing that justice is done; better to see both of them grin broadly after the crowd whoops and cheers a tough hold of serve. At the end, they turn to congratulate each other on a good match before collecting their things and heading off together, avoiding the scrum of people pressing for autographs. Nobody wants to say goodbye to these two, but for this year at last, it’s a gentle, dignified farewell.
Hannah Wilks is a frequent contributor to TENNIS.com.