!Pic by Pete Bodo
NEW YORK—It was a bright, beautiful morning; dazzling white clouds sailed through an azure sky, and the polyester strings in Donald Young's racket glittering like reflections of afternoon sunlight on the sea. A glorious day for tennis, especially after the two we've just endured. But you had to feel for Young because he looked—and felt—powerless. He watched as his dream evaporated like the puddles that remained in the nooks and corners of the Grandstand, and felt that mineral commodity called "momentum" inexorably slipping away.
There Young was, facing Andy Murray—one of the favorites to win the U.S. Open—with few bullets left in his gun and the needle on his emotional tank trembling near "E." Complain all you want about the attention Young has enjoyed these past few weeks, exercise your most base suspicion about the role played by chauvinism or even race in the chronicling of Young's exploits. But in so doing, you're ignoring or missing out on something critical: Everyone has a story. Every story is different. And some stories are just plain more interesting, or significant, than others.
This has nothing to do with age, nothing to do with ranking, and everything to do with what someone has endured and experienced. Young's story is complex—certainly more so than that of any number of tennisbots whose resumes are more impressive. Young has been a lightning rod and a symbol, a cautionary tale and occasionally an inspirational one. His history has been textured, rich, pathetic, intriguing, impoverished, uplifting, dispiriting and, at fleeting moments, even glorious. But today, the glory dissipated and the realities that have ruled Young's career up until now re-asserted themselves. He made far too many errors and was generally unable to worry Murray in a 6-2, 6-3, 6-3 loss. After which Young said:
"You know, to get up every day, getting ready to play and not playing. . . it's kind of emotionally draining. In theory, it sounds easy, like you should be able to do it. It's the round of 16 at the Open, I was excited to play. But, you know, for whatever reason today I was unable to give it my best."
But let's not get too carried away. As Murray said, when asked if he felt any sympathy for the role the rain might have played in ruining Young's tournament: "I don't know if it (the rain) played a part in his performance or not. He's not young anymore. He's 22 years old. Everyone has to deal with those situations, and maybe me and a few of the other guys will have had more experience in dealing with them."
The match wasn't won or lost on emotions alone; Murray played a major role in Young's inability to give his best. There's a reason Murray is No. 4 in the world, and it has to do with his talent for finding and ripping into the soft underbelly of an opponent. There's also a reason(s) that Young is No. 84, and my experience watching him over time has suggested that he lacks one of the qualities that distinguishes ever-dangerous, steady players from mercurial, erratic ones. The steady players simply have a higher threshold for frustration, and are less likely to get flustered and lose the plot in a way that invites opponents to assert themselves and wax confident.
How often have I watched Young bellow, whine, abuse his racket and churn his head in disbelief at his own dramatic and unexpected loss of form? Plenty of times. There's always been something boyish about him that way. I wondered today if he'd be able to avoid those terrible lapses that cost him so dearly in the past, as he must have done through his first three rounds here. So I decided to play close attention to what I call "crisis points"of his match with Murray—those points on which a game, a set or even a match can turn. If Young, a prohibitive underdog in this match, especially after that 48-hour timeout, were to have a chance, he would have to not just handle those points well, but recover well when he did not.
Here's my running tally:
No. 1: Young serving in the first set at 1-1, 30-40. This first crisis point was arrived at yesterday at around 1 p.m. It was the result of a forehand error by Young. But he reacted to it well, clubbing an ace, an approach winner, and another ace to hold the game. Within moments, the players were pulled off the court and vanished into the mist of Flushing Meadows.
No. 2: Young serving in the first set at 2-2, 15-40. Murray has been solid right off the bat with the resumption of play, patiently working Young's backhand even though the underdog is trying hard to protect and run around it to tag the forehand. As is often the case when a player is hammering away at the weaker wing, the stronger, forehand of Young becomes less reliable; there's more pressure on him to do something spectacular with it when he finally gets a chance to bust it out. Thus, the break points are set up with a forehand error. Young responds to the first break point aggressively, attacking the net to put away an overhead. But in a critical lapse, he then produces a double-fault. Murray scores the first break of the match, on the most basic of errors by Young.
No. 3: Young serving in the first set at 2-4, deuce. The punishment Murray rains down on the Young backhand, and the pressure it puts on the forehand, is paying off. Another forehand error by Young yields another break point. Young misses his first serve, and goes for broke off Murray's return with an inside-out forehand that flies way off course. Clearly dispirited, Young is starting to show signs of losing his focus. He allows Murray to race through the next game for the set.
No. 4: Young serving the first game of the second set, 30-40. Unable to dispel his apparent confusion and frustration, Young has glared at his box, muttered curses, and sprayed balls all over. Now he's in deep trouble, and it doesn't get any better when he gifts Murray with yet another game via a double fault.
No. 5: Murray serving in the second set at 1-0, deuce. I'm including this point because it's pretty clear that Young needs to do something, and quick, to get back into the match. He now has an opportunity. But an ace and a service winner to the backhand enable Murray to hold. Taken together with Young's service struggles, this is a strong comment on the importance of the serve.
No. 6: Murray serving in the second set at 2-1, 15-30. Young has a versatile game and plenty of touch. He puts it to good use with a slice backhand that takes the pace off a rally and results in a Murray forehand error (it's a feeble, mistimed shot that spins out in the net). Murray fends off the first of the break points by forcing a Young forehand error, but Young takes the next serve and hits a stone cold forehand return winner that skids off Murray's baseline. It's his first break, and its imperative to consolidate it with a good hold.
!Pic No. 7: Young serving in the second set at 2-2, 30-all. Young is unhappy with his forehand. He's clearly going for too much and having trouble keeping it under control. But who's going to fault him? The fact is, playing conservatively will guarantees that Murray, who's bigger, and has greater range and firepower, will push him around at will.
Yet to get the kind of pace and depth he needs, Young has to take a vicious cut. Meanwhile, Murray is having little trouble returning serve, increasing the need for Young to take charge of the rally right off Murray's service return. So he unloads on the next Murray service return but drives the ball out to go down break point again, and then he overhits an inside-out forehand to give Murray another break.
Young turns to his box, arms dangling at his sides, palms turned out, and yells, "I can't hold!" He's down a break. It seems he's been down a break his entire life.
No. 8: Murray serving in the second set at 3-2, 30-40. Young pops to life, and not a moment too soon. Attacking and taking chances, he outlasts Murray in a savage rally to force a break point. This time, Murray double-faults, and we're back on serve.
No. 9:Young serving in the second set at 3-3, 0-40. Once again, Young is having trouble consolidating a break. This time he falls behind 0-40 in no time at all. He stays in the ensuing rally long enough to attack, but Murray's passing shot is too hot to handle. Young slices it into the net. Game over.
No. 10: Young serving in the second set at 3-5, ad-out. The handwriting was engraved on the wall in the previous game, where Young responded to being broken with more frustration than determination. As a result, Murray held while Young vented, offering no resistance as Murray closed out the game in four points. And in the blink of an eye, Young is in desperate straits in his next service game. But the end comes quickly, via another double fault. The second set belongs to Murray.
I didn't bother keeping similar tabs on the third set, because it was pretty clear that the match was over. The most striking thing about the 10 crisis points is how poorly Young handled them in general, especially on his own serve. That's the big takeaway; Young needs to find a better hold game.
In many ways it was an ugly match, a sad match. And Young knew it. He was surprisingly good-natured and reflective in his presser, admitting: "It's not just losing the way I lost. I felt I didn't put my best foot forward and play the way I've been playing the whole time. But you know, it's been a good tournament. . . The tournament I've had here, the Slam is the best one I've ever had."
Lord knows Young is accustomed to setback. His entire career has had a one-step forward, two-steps back theme. But this time, he's taken two steps forward (three, if you want to go literally, round-by-round), and there's certainly no shame in losing to Murray on hard courts. Young's result here will probably provide him with motivation and replenish his enthusiasm for the game.
In all honesty, it doesn't seem like so great a reward for all the work Young has done in his life; that he's willing to accept it and soldier on only makes me like and respect him more.