Sports fans in Philadelphia lost a local hero last week. No, it wasn't what's-his-name, the Eagles' Flapping Gum. It was Bill Lyon, the least-known great sportswriter in America. Last Sunday, he wrote his final column after 32 years at the Philadelphia Inquirer. Lyon was a favorite of pretty much every sports fan I knew growing up. He wasn't a moralist or a bomb-thrower or a know-it-all, and I saw him on TV only once, being interviewed about the Eagles from a diner booth (so Philly). He was an appreciator, old-fashioned as that sounds.
One of Lyon’s columns has stayed with me—at least the outline of it has—since the late-’80s. It was about Charles Barkley, a 76er at the time. In recovering a loose ball, Barkley had hurled himself into the seats and ended up sprawled in the third row. The ball came out to a teammate who dribbled to the other end of the court. Somehow, the opposing team forgot about Barkley, who was busy peeling himself off a most-likely-comatose fan. After 10 seconds or so, Barkley barreled in from off-screen, took a pass on the run, and rained down a monstrous dunk before anyone knew what had happened. Writing the next day, Lyon imagined himself idling away some weekend during the upcoming summer and being happy to have that memory of Barkley pop into his head.
After a couple months of relatively unmemorable tennis, fans of the game might ask: Were there any moments like that for us this year? Plenty—it's one of the benefits of an endless season. With a nod to Bill Lyon, here are a few of the happenings from 2005 that I hope I won't forget anytime soon.
• Serena Williams vs. Maria Sharapova, Australian Open semifinal. Men are more combative than women, you say? When I want to describe a match as “fiercely competitive,” I will now use this as the standard. Even on TV, you could cut the tension with a knife.
• Alicia Molik, Australian Open quarterfinal. The down-to-earth Aussie is what the women’s game needs: a pro. Too bad she’s out with an infection. In Melbourne she got a bad call that helped Lindsay Davenport beat her 9-7 in third. Molik took it in stride, a nice contrast to Serena Williams’ claim of being “robbed” by a botched overrule at the U.S. Open in 2004. (Williams even wore a T-shirt that read, “The ball was in!”) We miss you, Alicia.
• Marat Safin vs. Roger Federer, Australian Open semifinal. I watched this classic five-setter as it was happening and later with a colleague who didn’t know the result. Once again I learned that there is nothing, not a single word, you can say that won’t give away a tennis match. It was tough to keep quiet through this one.
• Gael Monfils, Key Biscayne. This was my first close-up of Monfils, the French teenager with the elastic body. As he leapt at balls and blasted down Nikolay Davydenko, it felt, briefly, like the future of the game was here. Monfils seemed to have too much athleticism for the little boxes that make up a tennis court.
• Richard Gasquet, Monte Carlo. Just as 18-year-old Rafael Nadal was ready to break through and win his first Masters title, a second teenager stole his thunder for a day. Against Roger Federer, Gasquet was the French version of Vinnie “The Microwave” Johnson of Detroit Pistons fame—I’ve never seen anyone get that hot that fast.
• The Italian Open (men’s edition). After last year’s rain-soaked debacle, a week of sun and huge crowds in Rome’s venerable tennis stadium looked fantastic on the Tennis Channel. The five-hour final between Nadal and Guillermo Coria was simply too much of a very good thing.
• Rafael Nadal, Roland Garros final. After winning a big point near the end, Nadal turned and slid sideways with his right foot, and then his left. Then he did it again. And again. He finished by erupting into his patented flying fist-pump. Mary Carillo said, quite accurately, “Oh, man.”
• John McEnroe. He went neck and neck in matches against Mario Ancic and Mardy Fish this year, along the way showing that variety can still be an effective weapon (as well as entertaining). Is he the best 40-and-over player in history?
• Andy Roddick match, Centre Court, Wimbledon. One group of girls: “We love you Andy!” Another group, on the opposite side of the stadium: “We love you, too!” First group: “We said it first, Andy!”
• Practice court, Wimbledon. Watching Thomas Johansson hit ball after ball perfectly in practice depressed me. Seeing him in his match later that day, where he played much more tentatively and committed a normal number of errors, made me feel better. The pros let their nerves get to them, just like the rest of us.
• Venus Williams vs. Lindsay Davenport, Wimbledon final. I watched this at my tennis club in Brooklyn, where fans arranged themselves into opposing camps as the match progressed. I went out to play but was routinely interrupted as people—adults—shouted and pounded the walls after big points. Leave it to the women’s game to inspire this kind of passion.
• Andrew Murray puking a blue streak, U.S. Open. I was 10 feet away—how will I ever forget that?
• Andre Agassi vs. James Blake, quarterfinal, U.S. Open. Agassi tapping his heels during the changeover before running out to break Blake late in the fifth was a thrill. But Roger Federer’s cold assessment of the match was still true: “James gave it to him.”
• Amelie Mauresmo, WTA Championships. Her reaction to her win was utter joy. That wasn’t a surprise. What was shocking, and nice to see, was that Amelie Mauresmo was celebrating.
• Roger Federer, Masters Cup final. As he went down two breaks in the fifth set, Federer, winner of 24 straight finals, stood back, scowled, and slowly folded his arms across his chest. The oldest rule in sports was true again: No one can win them all.
• Roger Federer, U.S. Open final. No, Federer wasn’t only memorable in defeat. Midway through the Open final, Andre Agassi went up a break and began to look like he might sneak past the world’s best. Federer proceeded to make the most casual comeback imaginable, turning the tables just when he needed to and cruising right past Agassi. It was like watching Michael Johnson run—he didn’t look like he was moving his legs quickly even as he left everyone else sputtering behind him.