Well, for those of you who suspect that Roger Federer spent most nights these past two weeks gnawing at his fingernails, sticking pins in cloth dolls, or poring over his horoscope in the Basel Bugle, I have some unfortunate news. During the presser following his demolition of Marat Safin in the WImbledon semifinals, Federer, trying to make a point about his friendly relations with Rafael Nadal, said, "We talk. We see each other all the time in the locker room. So we were talking a lot on the rain delay, you know, when was it, when I was playing. . . Who was I playing last match?"
Somebody hollered out, Ancic!
Federer's expression said, Oh, yeah, that's the guy, I knew his name started with an A! He went on to finish his thought: "We (Rafael and I) spoke a lot, for instance. So we always see each other all the time at the practice courts. We just get in and out. But you know, during the match days we sort of talk a lot, yeah."
Well, it looks like Sunday will be another match day, although it's unlikely to stimulate much chatter between them in the locker room at around 1:30 PM, seeing as how they'll playing each other in another Grand Slam final - the sixth in a row, if you just count Roland Garros and Wimbledon. That two men with such disparate games - both once vulnerable on one surface or the other - have accumulated this record at a pair of events played on such different surfaces is astonishing. And the match on Sunday is the one in which all hail, according to many pundits, is supposed to break loose.
An awful lot of people are expecting an upset of historic proportions at Wimbledon on Sunday. Okay, I can understand how the no. 1 player in the world and holder of 12 Grand Slam titles can seem like a long-shot in the Roland Garros final; it's weird, but explicable. I'm not so sure I understand how he can be be seen as riding into an ambush here at Wimbledon, where he hasn't lost a match since 2002 and hasn't lost a set this fortnight. But maybe that's just me.
Federer looked strong against Safin today - strong but not invulnerable. So there's hope for Nadal. Safin had plenty of chances - or some chances, with a good shoot at creating many more, because that's how it is with opportunities -they're self-perpetuating. But Safin often seemed pre-occupied with the duties of his office as tennis's ranking drama queen, and disinclined to face the blows of fate or gusts of Federer excellence in an even-handed, patient manner. It's too bad, because Safin still has one of the biggest games out there; he can dictate with the best of them, and even The Mighty Fed is hard-pressed to contain Safin at his best. The problem for Safin is that when he's not at his best, he has trouble dealing with it.
All right, it was understandable that Safin would be tentative at the start. Bingo - just like that, he was down a break and, soon, a set. But through the long, middle portion of a match in which the only two service breaks were - literally - the bookends of the scorecard, Safin gave as good as he got. Unlike Federer, though, he never seemed convinced that the good would ultimately outweigh the bad. Patience is a critical virtue in tennis, and one that Safin sometimes lacks. Thus, approaching the tiebreaker appeared to turn him testy and cranky (if he was wearing a watch, he would have kept glancing at it) instead of eager and aware that in the 'breaker to come, he could change the course of the match with one swipe of the racket.
Instead, a dumb error on the very first point of the tiebreaker put Safin in a big hole and more or less sealed his fate. Still, even after he lost the second set 'breaker, he served with authority, attacked successfully, and generally personified the theory that if you've got a big enough game, you're in with a chance against anyone - including Federer.
What's his name. .. Ancic, Mario Ancic, does not have a big enough game. Neither does Nikolay Davydenko or David Ferrer. Safin does. It's too bad that every time he makes an error, or sometimes even if he's just outsmarted, or outrun, Safinn feels obliged to trash a racket or, looking at the player guest box, deliver a long address, complete with expressive gestures (does anyone fling his arms wide, professing helplessness, as wantonly as Safin?). Why not save the histrionic demonstrations and soulful supplications for a time when you actuallly have something to complain about - instead of a stupid missed passing shot at 15-all?
But that' Safin, always ready to get bent out of shape. A Muscovite in the street asks him for the time and Safin probably says, five-thirty - and then knocks over a trash barrel or air-kicks a mail box.
