If there’s a universal truth in tennis today, it is this: The Davis Cup cannot win. In 2009, the big idea was to move the quarterfinal and semifinal ties to the weekends right after Wimbledon and the U.S. Open, so the players could go straight from one to the other. What was the upshot? The team event lost one of its star stalwarts, Andy Roddick, after he surrendered a heartbreaking Wimbledon final and couldn’t face the indoor clay that the Croatian team had waiting for him on Friday.
Still, the event, like a BBC production that casts expert character actors rather than Hollywood stars, continues to produce first-class drama with relatively anonymous talent—do you know the name of the newest DC hero pictured at right? Davis Cup proves that, for 12 days a year, the sport remains bigger than its stars. (Is that what they call damning with faint praise?) Here’s a roundup of what happened in DC and elsewhere this past weekend.
1. Croats Crush
Count me as another casualty of the new DC schedule. Like Roddick, I wasn’t properly prepared to get into the U.S.-Croatia tie; I like to have a week off after Wimbledon to let it sink in. Otherwise, it feels like just one more event on the endlessly churning circuit. I watched what I could on my computer at work on Friday and at my tennis club on Sunday. What I saw more than anything was Marin Cilic pulling at his sweaty,one-size-too big shirt and then hauling off and hitting winners I'd never seen from him before. Davis Cup does funny things to people. Suddenly Marat Safin can focus, and Marin Cilic can show us the passion that lurks somewhere beneath his dour surface. Even at 6-foot-6, he looked much more balanced and comfortable on clay than either James Blake or Mardy Fish. The key to beating the Americans is as clear and simple as ever: dirt.
- Israeli Upset
Put their semifinal run together with their bizarre and lonely victory in Sweden in the opening round—see their surreal celebration in Malmo here—and Israel’s DC team may qualify as the biggest story of the 2009 season. This time Dudi Sela, Harel Levy and company swept the Russians in front of 11,000 fans in Tel Aviv. Along the way, they extended Marat Safin’s yearlong farewell tour of pain. Safin and partner Igor Kunitsyn came back from two sets down in the doubles only to lose the match, and the tie, 6-4 in the fifth. Israel’s reward is a trip to Spain for the semis. Doubles player Andy Ram says he finds that prospect “frightening.” Give him points for being honest, but at least his team should be very, very loose.
- Spain Survives
To get to the semis, a Nadal-less Spanish team had to go the distance to beat Germany for their 16th straight victory at home. This time the hero was JC Ferrero, who picked up the slack after a loss by Fernando Verdasco by winning a straight-set clincher over Andreas Beck—Spain is deep, no doubt about it; they never seem to have the same MVP twice. Ferrero’s turn is especially noteworthy. He led the country to a Cup title early in this decade but had long been relegated to the sidelines. “This competition is amazing and to play for your country also is very special,” Ferrero said afterward. “There’s no words to explain how I feel right now but I’m pretty happy about it.” Pretty happy? After all these years, the proud JC remains a tough man to please.
- Czech Mating
I spoke too soon at the top of this post. What’s the only thing more snakebitten than Davis Cup? It’s the Argentine team. A year after the Massacre in Mar del Plata, their own star stalwart, David Nalbandian, pulled up lame and left the team exceptionally vulnerable on hard courts in Ostrava. Berdych and Stepanek won all three rubbers in a 3-2 victory. After Stepanek won the clincher, he made one of those statements that only DC seems to inspire. “I had to really dig deep to step on the court,” Stepanek said. “After the doubles [on Saturday] I was like 90 per cent sure that I’m not able to play singles, but I was assured by the doctors that it was not going to damage my knee. I had to lie to myself that it didn’t hurt.”
Kudos to Czech coach Jaroslav Navratil for resting Stepanek in the first singles so he’d be ready for both the doubles and the decider. And kudos in defeat to Juan Martin del Potro, who shrugged off any memories of his key defeat in Mar del Plata and beat both Berdych and Minar in straight sets. That’s what singles stars do.
The Czechs travel to Croatia for the semis, starting September 18.
- The Loners’ Game
The NY Timespointed out last weekend that it’s been 30 years since the original stereo-for-one, the Walkman, was invented. Did you know why it was created in the first place? Sony co-founder Akio Morita wanted something to listen to while he played tennis. First it was sports agents, then private musical universes. Tennis has certainly done its part to up the self-absorption levels of modern life. As for me, after cranking a white bargain-bin cassette of the Clash’s first album on my Walkman until it broke, my ears would never be the same.
- The Roid Question
Slate informs us that tennis is ripe for a steroid infestation. The writer, Bill Gifford, claims that there isn’t much out of competition testing. I was under the impression that there was a decent amount done by surprise and during the off season.
7. Ramming Ahead
Like I said last week, tennis is nothing if not utterly unpredictable. Who would have thought that veteran Challenger mainstay Rajeev Ram, 25, was due for a surge? The American was the lucky loser in Newport when Mardy Fish pulled out to play Davis Cup. Ram rode this lucky break all the way to a win over Sam Querrey in the final.
- Life of Johnson
Also in Newport this weekend, legendary African-American tennis coach Dr. Robert Johnson—he worked with both Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe, not a bad résumé—was inducted into the tennis Hall of Fame. Tennis.com profiles him here.
- New Old Blood
New faces have been what the WTA has needed for a while now. It got one at the top of the tour today when Stacey Allaster was named the new chairman, replacing Larry Scott. She had previously been the organization’s president under Scott. Whatever her plans—according to SportsBusinessJournal, she’s not looking to make any big changes—it’s a positive for the sport just to have visible leadership in an important post. The USTA isn’t replacing Arlen Kantarian at the U.S. Open’s director, and ATP chief Adam Helfant, perhaps in reaction to the flashy style that doomed his predecessor, Etienne de Villiers, has been virtually invisible since he took over at the start of 2009.
- Speaking of Walkmans . . .
Three songs I’ve been spinning—yes, I still think of songs as “records”—in my IPod on my way to the tennis courts.
Luna’s version of the Velvet Underground’s “Ride into the Sun”: weak singing, poetic guitar
Eddie Cochran’s “Lonely.” Perfect for tennis players. As a gravelly voiced musician friend of mine in college told me, “Everyone writes a song with that title.”
Bob Seger’s “Night Moves.” Sue me, it makes me feel like it’s summer.
- Night Game, Part II
And speaking of such moves, in my last post, which was about the particular vibes that come from playing tennis in the evening, I forgot to mention one of my very best experiences along those lines. In high school I was a counselor for a week in June at a local tennis camp. During the day, we sweated it out in the humid glare while feeding balls and yelling at brats of various ages. In the evening, sans rugrats, we gathered again to practice against each other. The competition was serious, but everyone was looser under the lights. The cooler air and darker sky relaxed us—I could see the ball better under the lights. We were pounding out the annoyances of the day and remembering why we picked up the sport in the first place. There was something luxurious and indulgent about the scene. Nature, in the form of the setting sun, told us that the tennis day should have been over. But the buzzing electric lights had the final say: We could play as long, long, long, long, long as we wanted.
*
I’ll be back this week to preview the U.S. hard-court season, when the sport makes its annual transition from the hallowed grass of Wimbledon to the asphalt parking lots of Indiana. Still, no part of the tennis year looks as good at night.