One irony in this is that as different as the Mighty Fed is from Andy Roddick, they represent two dominant themes in the traditional tennis demographic, much like their games represent two very different but time-tested ways to win.
Come to think of it, Roddick is the perfect foil for Federer - the yin to his yang, when you take in the entire athletic and cultural landscape of the game (Rafael Nadal doesn't bookend quite as well with Federer, because he is fundamentally an exotic, in almost all respects). And Andy is an especially juicy symbol for all the America bashers out there (some of whom are actually from places outside the U.S.).
Andy isn't exactly seen as the Ugly American - he's merely the Uncouth American. Troll around the Internet and the term "frat boy" is never positioned too far from Andy's name. Beyond that, though, Roddick seems to represent the classic American obsession with power and youth; he's the Muscle Car of tennis players.
He doesn't exude privilege the way some aquiline-nosed guy with a funny first name might; he is, after all, Andy.
But Andy still represents something equally unsavory and capable of driving jealously: the absolute well-being and sense of entitlement radiating from your typical, well-fed, marginally educated, happy-go-lucky American suburban kid. The world looks at him and thinks, "nobody should have it so good," from which point it's pretty easy to read all kinds of things into his persona: he's arrogant, he's a bully, he's smug. He also happens to be an ideal example of the typical tennis demographic.
How about Maria Sharapova? Is there anyone, man or woman, who so effectively represents a girl fleeing headlong from squalor (in her case, the chaos that was Russia after the fall of Communism) into unimaginable wealth and celebrity? Sharapova is a walking, talking rebuttal to anyone who clings to the quaintly naive notion that tennis is an "exclusionary" sport, something that many people are keen to do for no better reason than that tennis has a specific and fairly narrow demographic profile.
Tennis is not exclusionary, but it is exclusive; that is, you have to pony up a certain amount of capital (emotional and mental at first, then material) to get into the game and stay there. And, as countless folks who had expected that the USTA - or some other sponsor or institution - would grease their way to the top have learned, making it in tennis is not an enterprise for the faint-hearted any more than it is for the merely rich. You earn your way into tennis through mostly individual (or family) effort and sacrifice. That's the reason why Venus and Serena may not have any more of a long-term impact on the participation of minorities in tennis than did Althea Gibson or Arthur Ashe. African-American are not flocking to tennis from what i can see because tennis has grown more diverse; the ones who have are those who understand what the game is about and what it asks. And they're more likely to be transformed into "tennis people" (here we are, right back a the mainstream typical tennis demographic) than they are to transform the game into a "people sport."
The last finalist, Justine Henin-Hardenne, is probably the one who most closely represents the vision of tennis as a broadly democratic game, capable of producing champions who could just as easily be practitioners of some under-the-radar and far less glamorous sport - water polo or team handball, anyone?
Among these four, she's the one who least represents the conventional wisdom about the tennis demographic. It's hard to hang labels on her, or to make assumptions about who and what she is because of the game she plays, the image she projects as a tennis player, and even the way tennis appears to have shaped her own tastes and personal preferences. You won't catch H-2 hobnobbing with Bono, working a producer for a bit part in a sitcom, or flying off to Monaco to party with a bunch of Formula One drivers. In this, she reminds me of the fleet of Swedish players who sailed into the game powered by the wind created by Bjorn Borg. H-2 reminds me less of Serena Williams than of someone who might have been in the U.S. women's soccer team, in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with race.
So there you have it. A few fairly abstract speculations on the nature of the game, based on the nature of the combatants. The finalists were a cast of familiar characters that can easily make you wonder, wither diversity? If there's a lesson in all of this, it may be that it's the nature of the game, not that of the people administering or marketing it, that doesn't change. And that's a valuable distinction to keep in mind. Trying to bring diversity to a game that draws from a fairly small pool of highly motivated people (and, as such, people of not particular racial or social background) is a daunting task. The game attracts a certain kind of person and in general it molds the players far more than the players end up molding the game.
The game has a great deal of character, and that's one of the reasons it can be a flash-point for so many conflicting feelings. People of great personal force, including Billie Jean King and John McEnroe, have sought to alter that character, and often with the best of intentions. As the four finalists at the U.S. Open demonstrated, that mission has not been accomplished. The more things change, the more they remain the same.This isn't necessarily a bad thing, for you could do lot worse in life than end up being Federer or Sharapova.
Tiger Woods knows that, and so does Richard Williams.