I've got to stop saying when I'll be back, because I can't seem to stay off this thing that long. I didn't think I'd get a chance to watch any of Newport, but there it was on my parents TV Sunday, bad grass, Barry McKay, and all. I tried to fall asleep during the final, between Justin Gimelstob and the once-again-resurrected Mark Philippoussis, but it proved to be surprisingly entertaining.
Before I get to that, I want to try to answer a commenter's question about what I meant when I said that the key to hard-court tennis was controlling the center of the court, and that no one is better at it than Roger Federer. It's a vague term, I know, but it's one that Nick Bollettieri stresses, and which a former employee of his, Paul Annacone, mentioned recently when he described what makes Federer so tough on grass. The idea, and it's a basic one, is that the player who can maneuver the point to where he's hitting from just inside the baseline, and at the center of the court, is going to win most of the points. It's the modern equivalent of getting to the net. From this spot, nobody is better at creating angles and controlling the action than Federer, according to Annacone. You simply are not going to beat him in a match of toe-to-toe rallies.
The idea also helps explain why Nadal in particular has had success against Federer. With his forehand, he's second only to Fed in the ability to open up the court and control a point from his own center. His topspin from that side lets him pull the ball all the way to the sideline with confidence, where the spin kicks it out farther than most players'. After that, he can run around and hit his patented heavy-kicking inside-out forehand to the opposite corner. If Fed and Nadal play this summer, it will be the battle of the first-strike.
OK, Newport. It's played on grass, the only tournament left on that surface in the U.S., but it bears very little resemblance to Wimbledon. The Big W is the pinnacle; on TV, Newport looks like a country-club Challenger event. It also exists on a fusty tennis-history island of its own. This is a place where Jimmy Van Alen, the inventor of the tiebreaker and founder of the Hall of Fame, is celebrated like a God. Still, the tournament produced a final worth watching. Here are a few reasons why.
Grass: It wasn't always greener
The old-timers--Jimmy Connors and Martina Navratilova, to name two--now come to Wimbledon and bemoan the fact that the grass is so hard and true, and that the ball occasionally gets above the players' kneecaps. They're right that it isn't the unique, unpredictable surface it once was. But the turf at Newport still is. Yesterday, kick serves turned into low line drives after they bounced, and soft shots came up at strange angles, the way a football might. Other balls just died. This is closer to what I remember the grass doing at Wimbledon 25 years ago, but somehow I doubt that Connors or Navratilova would have enjoyed playing on it. In some ways, by firming up the grass, Wimbledon has lost a certain quaint charm; in other ways, it's plainly improved the event and brought it into line with the professional standards of the sport today.
Serve-and-volley: Mounting a counterattack?
I was finally converted to the s & v cause at Wimbledon, and I have no second thoughts after seeing Philippoussis and Gimelstob both do it exclusively over two sets. First, it helped make what might have been a lopsided match from the baseline a competitive one. After being broken early, Gimelstob steadied himself by using his serve well and getting right on top of the net. This put a lot of pressure on Philippoussis and, despite the fact that he was the superior player all afternoon, he couldn't quite make the American go away. On more than one occasion, Flip hit a couple of outstanding backhand passes to get to break point and then failed to convert. This made for tighter, nervier, more dramatic tennis than a set's worth of baseline rallies between these two guys would have.
Flip: Still skilled after all these years
Remember when Mark Philippoussis was the latest in power tennis and physique? A decade ago, when he beat Pete Sampras at the Australian Open, Flipper (then Scud) was the future, but the future quickly caught up. Philippoussis is still a big guy by any standard, and his size was highlighted by the presence of Gimelstob across the net. Philippousis made Gimelstob, who's 6-foot-5 himself, look like a typical lanky civilian.
More impressive was Philippoussis' way with the backhand pass and lob. He was dialed in on both for most of the day. His lobs, towering and perfectly measured,were uncanny. Give him time on the backhand side and he's deadly to all parts of the court. At the Open, where he has been a finalist, Philipoussis may be this year's version of the Guy No One Wants to Face.
Justin Gimelstob: Aging Gracefully?
Who says American tennis is in trouble? We've got Gimelstob, who reached the first final of his long career, in Newport. Gimelstob, 29, has been the wild prodigy and the walking injury; now he's on the verge of becoming a sentimental fave. He didn't have the physical skills or the ball-striking talent to match Philippoussis, but he made it interesting with hustle and an "I'm going to make the most of every minute I'm on court" attitude. You have to love a guy who dives for a ball when he's four feet behind the baseline.
Barry McKay: Fun
When John McEnroe calls a match, you know it means something. So what do you know about a match when you hear the gently blundering voice of Barry McKay? That it's meaningless? Well, no ... not exactly. McKay did the Davis Cup this spring, and he was on hand with Bud Collins to call yesterday's final. McKay is nothing if not enthusiastic, in an old-fashioned sort of way --"Gosh, that was a VERY close call," is one of the dramatic catchphrases he blurts out about once a game. And the vast majority of aces are "timely" ones in Barry's world. He's also getting a little morbid. Yesterday he said that every tennis fan should visit the Hall of Fame in Newport at least once before he or she "passes on." Put him together with Bud--who more than once said that Gimelstob had been left "naked" at the net--and you had a charming little trainwreck in the booth to entertain you when the match got dull. As much as I tried, I couldn't stop listening.