The first match I watched from this week’s Shanghai Masters was the opening-rounder between Tommy Haas and Nicolas Almagro. This was, at least on paper, about as entertaining as early tournament contests get. You had two guys with stylish one-handed backhands and Top 10 talent. You had the unlikely story of Haas making another run up the rankings at age 34. And, when they took the court, you had a tight score. Through two sets, the Spaniard was the better player, but the German wouldn’t let him close the door.
After losing the first, Haas forced a second-set tiebreaker, at which point Almagro had a meltdown. He tried a trick shot off a Haas lob and missed; a few points later he was down 1-4 and punishing his racquet for his mistakes. Almagro lost the breaker and went away completely in the third set, losing it 6-2.
What was the explanation for Haas’s comeback and Almagro’s collapse? “Experience,” said the commentator on the Tennis Channel. Haas had it, and Almagro, who was “young” by comparison, didn’t. At first glance, that certainly appeared to be the case. The German, like the veteran he is, remained calm when things weren’t going his way. The Spaniard, as many rookies will, panicked and easily became disheartened. The only problem is that young Almagro happens to be 27 and has been on tour for nine years.
We know that tennis is getting older, but have we reached the point where 27 can be considered young and inexperienced on the ATP tour? If you look at the ages of many of the higher-ranked players in Shanghai this week, it’s not a far-fetched idea. Twenty-seven seems to be when players are entering their primes. You know Roger Federer is 31 and going strong; this fact is celebrated once again in an article at CNN.com today. But there have been plenty of legends before him who were successful well into their 30s. What's striking in Shanghai are the ages of his lesser-known colleagues. Haas is 34 and rising; Radek Stepanek is 33; Feliciano Lopez is 29; Juan Monaco, Philipp Kohlschreiber, and Janko Tipsarevic are 28 and playing the best tennis of their careers; Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, Tomas Berdych, and John Isner are 27 and just now seem to be realizing their potential; even Federer’s little Swiss brother, Stan Wawrinka, is 27. Alexander Dolgopolov is considered a “young gun” at 23. The comeback story of the tournament? That would be Tommy Robredo, who is returning from thigh surgery earlier this year. He’s 30.
Clearly this is a different time from the 1970s, when Bjorn Borg could write an autobiography at 18, and in it ask the world, “How long can Bjorn Borg last?” In that sense, tennis has changed for the better, or at least the more normal. Twenty-seven, in virtually all other walks of life, and in many other sports, really is young. For the players, this should be a good thing. There’s a little less pressure on the guys in their early 20s to produce right away; Milos Raonic and Ryan Harrison, say, don’t have to panic if they’re not flying up the charts from one month to the next. There’s more time for all of them to put money away and enjoy what they do best before their (still extremely early) retirements. And the sport is more than happy to have its biggest names appear in tournament marquees for as long as possible.
My question, as I watched Haas and Almagro, was how the aging of the game affects its fans. The stability among the ATP’s stars over the last seven years has unquestionably been a positive; it’s why we've started calling it a golden age. But at all levels, we get to see the pros for longer periods of time than we once did. I can remember Haas’s breakout in the late 90s, when he was a skinny kid, with the same backwards cap, who seemed destined to win Grand Slams. And I can remember first seeing Almagro unfurl his one-hander at Hamburg in 2004; I thought that he, rather than Rafael Nadal, was the young Spanish player with the brightest future. With both of these players, I’ve been happy to keep watching. I’m happy to see either of their backhands anytime, and it’s been satisfying to see Almagro make good on at least some of the potential I thought I glimpsed 10 years ago.
With other players, I’ve grown to appreciate aspects of their games and personalities that didn't strike me at first. Juan Monaco has become a favorite for his energy. The same is true for Tsonga and his showmanship. I once enjoyed watching Kohlschreiber solely for his one-handed backhand, but over the years it has been his humble demeanor that has begun to register with me, and which has made him a favorite as well. Lleyton Hewitt has gone from grating upstart to model competitor in my eyes. Even Richard Gasquet’s futile quest to live up to his youthful potential has begun to take on a certain poignance as he’s reached the second half of his 20s. More is forgiven once we learn to live with a player’s flaws.
But there are downsides. A Groundhog Day—Groundhog Era—effect has set in, especially among the players just outside the Top 4. How many times can we wonder if this is Tsonga’s time, or Berdych’s time, or Isner’s time, or Ferrer’s time, or del Potro’s time, or Cilic’s time, or Monfils's time to break through, before we stop getting our hopes up? And as appealing as Robredo’s and Haas’s and Almagros’ one-handers are, there must be other, younger guys with good-looking shots out there somewhere. At a certain point, you can know a player’s game too well.
Last weekend there were big WTA and ATP events in Beijing, but it was a smaller tournament in Tokyo that provided the most newsworthy result. That’s mainly because Kei Nishikori became the first Japanese man to win his home tournament. But it was also the relative youth of the finalists—the 22-year-old Nishikori beat the 21-year-old Raonic—that made it exciting. Granted, we’ve seen plenty of these two players; in fact, some of us have probably written them both off a few times already. But in today’s seasoned game, they count as fresh faces. The sport will take them wherever it can find them.