Eye Candy (DC CC, 11.21)

by Pete Bodo

In my post below, I speculated on how the Spanish Davis Cup squad may have missed a great opportunity to give Carlos Moya, the indefatigable Godfather of the Spanish Armada, a chance to end his career in a supernova of tennis glory. It now appears that what Spanish captain Emilio Sanchez did, instead, was give one of his younger players - one who's mercurial, but not always convincing - a comparable opportunity.

Feliciano Lopez, a mildly surprising selection to play No. 2 singles, clearly will be the keystone in the Spanish effort to upset an Argentine squad that is not just hoping to win the Davis Cup for the first time (it is - by far - the most mainstream tennis nation never to have emerged the winner), but perfectly positioned to do so: Rafael Nadal, the game-changer on the Spanish side, is sidelined; the Argentines are led by a strong, tough, physical, emerging star, Juan Martin del Potro, and anchored by all-surface threat and grizzled Davis Cup veteran, David Nalbandian; the indoor hard court is ideal for the two Argentine singles players;  perhaps most significantly, the Argentines are playing at home for the first time in a final.

If there's anything wrong with this picture, it's that the deck seems so stacked for an Argentine victory that the home squad will really have to cowboy up to avoid growing week-kneed and nauseous when the pressure begins to bear. Make no mistake about it, the Argentine fans are starved for a win and there's no reason to believe that the firm of Nalbandian and del Potro won't deliver one.

Except, of course, this is Davis Cup. . .

But let's get back to Lopez. I first saw him back when he was a junior competing in the Orange Bowl (the winner that year was a quiet, elastic-faced youth with bizarre yellow highlights in his short hair. His name, I learned when I interviewed him, was Roger Federer). Even then, "Feli" was an impeccably groomed, strikingly handsome and seemingly mature young dude. I have a clear memory of him hanging around the lobby of the Sheraton Biscayne Bay hotel (it has since been converted to condominiums), in tight jeans, and open-throated dress shirt, and a white linen blazer - talking on his cell phone. And this was back when coming upon a 17-year old with a cell was like seeing one driving his own Porsche.

He was, of course, big with the girls - all in all, he reminded me of certain rich kids you may remember from high school (although I went to high school in a distant and seemingly more innocent time). They knew how to talk to the girls, meaning they treated the girls as if they were friends and acquaintances, rather than mysterious beings bearing twin nosecones that (presumably) emitted brain-wave jamming signal that made most boys incapable of uttering a coherent sentence, unless it was one that served to reveal the extent to which they were Olympic-grade loser.

Guys like Feli were different. They were secure - or vain? - enough to choose clothes that actually made them look good. They had composure, when facing teachers and other adults, as well as girls. They weren't hopeless idealists or romantics; they understood precociously where the comfort zone of life lies. All in all, youngsters like that are impressive in their instinct for, and drive toward, the conventional - and I don't mean that snidely.

Those kinds of kids don't necessarily make the best tennis players, although some of them go quite far. There's something a little demented and, well, unconventional about the best players, even if it's only because they achieve enough, early on, to have their affinity for the conventional overwhelmed by the tidal wave of talent. That Tsunami never washed over Feliciano Lopez, it seems. True to form, he's gifted, he's worked hard, he's demonstrated a sometimes surprising degree of raw and not at all conventional talent (in his case, the kind perpetually balanced between the dazzling and unsustainable). He's stepped up on some occasions but just as frequently shied away from opportunities to make a Big Statement. But now he doesn't have much choice; fate has put him in an either/or position, and this time he won't be able to meld into the background to provide tennis fans with ATP eye candy. In a way, that's a tribute to the nature of Davis Cup.

Let's face it, a win over del Potro almost anywhere else, while much more surprising today than it would have been six months ago, isn't out of the question. Lopez won their last meeting (he's 1-3 against del Potro), on a outdoor hard court in Miami. This indoor court in Guillermo Vilas's hometown of Mar del Plata might be even faster, which would help Lopez. The genius of Davis Cup is that the road to glory is far shorter, but much steeper. Feli beats del Potro in the third round in Monte Carlo and, in the event that Novak Djokovic takes Lopez out in the next round, it just goes down as one of his better wins for the year. But one win - and we all know the "on any given day" mantra - can be enormous in Davis Cup.

Lopez is a lefty with a huge serve, the signature shaky southpaw forehand, fetching backhand, and a healthy - and, for a Spaniard, uncharacteristic - appetite for serve and volley tennis. And it's likely that Lopez will play three matches in the tie, as Spain's most obvious chance to snatch a point is in the doubles (the Lopez-Fernando Verdasco team is tried and true). Can you say, Cowboy up, Feli?

No matter what the outcome of the first match between the two Da-veeds, I see the second rubber as the critical one. Spain gets a huge boost, even if they go into Saturday's doubles 1-1, if Lopez can tag del Potro. But that's a very big "if". Del Potro's outstanding trait, to me, has been his sheer toughness. Oh, that forehand is huge alright, and all the other requisites for a Grand Slam tournament winner are in place. But it's the steely nature of this towering, rangy athlete that seals the deal for me.

A few weeks ago, I was talking with John McEnroe, and was slightly surprised to hear speak in such glowing terms about del Potro. McEnroe, an early supporter of Andy Murray, most appreciates talent that, like his own, is a mite eccentric, left of center, expressed through the hands rather than the bi-ceps or quads. But John said, "The transformation in del Potro over the summer was really impressive. He used to kind of sulk around, almost like he was embarrassed to be so big and strong. But by the end of the summer he was walking with that swagger, like he's comfortable with himself and his position. The guy's going to be a force to reckon with and I think he now knows it."

The contrast between del Potro and Lopez is obvious; there's no need to belabor it. Sometimes guys like Lopez show themselves capable of producing more than you expect - after all, it's easy to be resentful or jealous of a someone blessed with so many seeming advantages. And I guess we need to be cautious about reading too much about the man into his performance as a player; for all I know, Lopez might be more far more inclined to jump off a dock to save a drowning child than either del Potro or, for that matter, me. But we're about to see an interesting test of Feli's character as a tennis player, and sometimes that's more than good enough, and it's always more than is asked of most of us watching the matches.