Comparation

The  biggest collective laugh in the press room during my stay here erupted today after Rafael Nadal bounced Thomas Berdych out of the Sony Ericsson Open. One intrepid newshound was all wrapped up in his conviction that Nadal hit only two "powerful" backhands during the match, and asked him why.

Jet Boy, like most of the stars, is accustomed to strange and even dumb questions. Yet he doesn't pillory or mock the poor schmoe who's on a mission seeking some bizarre form of celebrity-related validation. He doesn't even roll his eyes. He seems to take the cheerily democratic view that all questions are equal, although you can tell the ones he takes seriously. For those, he sits up straight and thinks; he thinks so conspicuously and seriously that I half-expect one of those little cartoon thought bubbles to appear over his head. But this question about the powerful backhands was not in that category.

"I really don't know," Nadal said, confessing. "I didn't think about this." He paused. "I think I have more backhands, no?  But, you know, sometimes it depends of the points.  It's difficult say why I'm not touching the ball. It's about your feeling in that moment, no?  I don't know."

See Rafa, no good deed goes unpunished. You take a question like that seriously and you to wind up in bizarro world. What's worse, the tone-deaf guy who asked the question pressed on: "Because a lot of times you played the backhand more safe, but you can hit it very powerful, and people talk about how you should play aggressive on hard courts.  It's much talked about.  That's why, because you can hit the shot, and we'd like to see it more often maybe."

Jet Boy's look said, Okay, I give up! and he looked right at the pressman and deadpanned: "I going to do more times in the final. If you like, I going to do it."

I know I write a lot about Nadal's pressers here, but I can't help myself. The transcripts don't even come close to doing justice to them; for example, where the transcripts say "comparison", the word Nadal really uses is one he made up: "comparation." It's just one example - and I can think of half-a-dozen similar ones - of the properties that lend charm and a touch of whimsy to the proceedings.

Roger Federer's pressers are crisp, on-target and professional. Occasionally there are moments of levity, but on the whole they're like a meeting of the UN World Council on Reducing Erosion in Riparian Corridors. In his interviews, Novak Djokovic tends to make speeches instead of engaging in conversations; of all the top guys, he's the one in gravest danger of referring to himself in the third person. (When I asked him in Indian Wells what luxuries he'd allowed himself now that his material well being was secure, he very  sternly warned me that this was a "private" matter. I'm fond of Novak, but if that's his idea of something "private", there's something lacking in that boy's life.) And Andy Roddick pressers can be like certain late-night conversations in a bar; you never know if you're going to share a laugh with the guy - or end up rolling around in the sawdust, fists flying.

By contrast, Nadal's appearances are a press room happy hour, sans booze (these tournament promoters aren't entirely nuts). Feel bored? Cranky? Uninsipired? Maria Sharapova just look at you like you're some kind of iridescent green bug when you said hi to her at the transport desk? Get on over to the interview room, Rafa's coming in! The guy turns the room into his kitchen, hops up on the counter, and you talk. It's a warm, enjoyable experience and that means something. Even when he takes exception to an ill-conceived question or comment (Rafa, don't you ever get tired of being stuck at No. 2?), Nadal expresses his annoyance or displeasure without malice - a slightly pained expression the only clue that he's discomfited.

And some things do get to him (among them, incessant "comparations" between this year and last, between his serve now and 18 months ago, between the relative value of the Wimbledon and French Open titles). Michelle Kaufman of the Miami Herald invited him to elaborate on something she'd read on his blog, pertaining to the recent fortunes of Roger Federer. He said:

It was a touching tribute to a rival who has kept him pinned at No. 2 despite (as Nadal claimed) Jet Boy having had, at various times in the two years, more ranking points than some No. 1 players of the past.

So what of Federer then? Charlie Bricker noted today that this is the first time in something like four years that the Swiss icon has gone four tournaments without a title. But like so many of the other statistics created by Federer's supremacy, you have to ask: What does that really mean, in the big picture? My own answer is, not that much.  Roddick is a player who, at his best, can knock out and bury people in a blizzard of teeth-jarring forehands and court-denting serves. Give the man his due.

But if you insist on making this all about Federer and are looking for comfort, go back into the record book - you'll see comparable dry spells in every great player's resume, especially when they get to the mid-point of their careers - and beyond. It's ironic - and perhaps telling - that Roger has become pals with Pete Sampras. Those guys talk. And Pete has always been pretty vocal about his decision, taken at a time comparable to this point in Federer's career, to focus on the majors. This is a tricky issue for Federer for many reasons, including political ones having to do with the prestige and credibility of the tour. For, as Pete said of sub-major tournaments: "At one point they all started to run together and I didn't really care that much."

The trouble with making this all about Federer is that it also invites you to leap into the alarmists' camp, where you just might end up stewing in your discontents and wildly unrealistic expectations for a good spell. If you scrutinize yesterday's scorecard and focus on the critical seventh game of the third set, you can find justification for panic. The score was 3-all and Roddick was serving, and down, 0-30. But  Federer wasted that  chance uncharacteristically, shanking a pair of returns. On game point for Roddick, Federer drove an ugly forehand into the net. Worse  yet, he was broken in next game, at love. Roddick then served out the upset.

That chain of events handily illustrates the most persuasive doomsday scenario, if you care to go there, darkly implying that Federer has misplaced his confidence and that his nerves, overloaded for so long, are burning out and sending  error messages to his arm. This happens, although not usually overnight, and not so finally that a player tumbles head over heels off the ranking tower. Right now, it's most likely that Roger is in the middle of a mild (for him) "slump", or having trouble getting motivated for run-of-the-mill tour events, or he's just in the midst of a simple run of bum luck, with an on-fire opponent lurking in every draw.

That players are more resilient than we sometimes give the credit for is a truism that was proven again last night, when slam-dunk finalist Andy Roddick was beaten by recently troubled but now resurgent Nikolay Davydenko, who will now meet Rafael Nadal in the men's final. It would be a shame to doubt that Federer has the same kind of resilience.

Just ask Nadal. Next Happy Hour is Sunday, around 4 PM.

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