By Pete Bodo
It was a fine day to visit my favorite court in all of tennis, the USTABJKNTC Grandstand. It's our American version of the Bullring court at the French Open, or one of the three ovals sunken into the promenade alongside Rod Laver Arena at the Australian Open, but for one thing. There's much less space around the actual Grandstand court than at those other venues, so if you're lucky enough to have a reserved seat, or smart enough to stake out a seat before the match you want to see begins, you end up about as close to the players as is humanly possible to get at a tennis tournament. It's also a pretty good deal if you're a press pariah, like me; the media seating section, while limited, is right behind the umpire and changeover chairs.
For grounds-pass warriors, the tall, steep stands symmetrically framing the court have great sight lines. Alright, the seats are nothing more than spartan, blue, aluminum benches. The up-side is that when the grandstand isn't crowded you can stretch your legs over the bench in front of you, and lean back against the one behind you. When the venue is crowded, it doesn't matter - it takes something like a Canas vs Ferrer five-setter to make you ponder ergonomics.
The best seats are on the west side, which is still attached to the Louee (the Louis Armstrong stadium), the original stadium, or, The House that Connors Built.The west stand seats are in the shade all day, which makes them superior to almost any other seating area on the grounds (including the courtside boxes in Arthur Ashe stadium). But they're also responsible for the biggest drawback of the Grandstand - the shadow that begins creeping across the actual court at around 2 PM every day.
That shadow has an interesting fringe, like an old-fashioned buckskin jacket or picket fence, because one of the most time-honored pastimes at the tournament is standing in the very last row in the Louee, looking over onto the Grandstand, and basically watching two matches at once (can you say, hardcore?). I always thought how disconcerting it must be for the players to see the stark black shadows of all those fans passing judgment from above, like an assembly of deities, on their volleys, forehands and kick serves.
The corner where the west and north stands meet is the tournament's Sesame Street, the place where off-duty ballkids congregate to watch, with views of both the Louee and Grandstand possible. It used to be loaded with 12 and 13 year-olds, but have you noticed that some of the "ballboys" out there these days have gray hair and abs that are less "six-pack" than oversize bota, and some of their female counterparts might as well be wearing "Hillary for President" badges? This corner is also the spot where, too many years ago for me to admit, I nearly had my tennis writing career cut tragically short when a giant hunk of roast beef, dropped (or was it hurled by a disgruntled reader?) from the top of the Louee, narrowly missed my head and landed at my feet with a sickening plop.
In the past, I've hiked up to the very top of the east stand to sit in the ample shade cast by the granddaddy of all the honeylocust trees on the grounds - and the site is loaded with them; it was the tree of choice for the landscapers, partially because it provides the shade that's in such short supply throughout the grounds. I've seen some remarkable matches on the Grandstand over the years, and thought it might cough up another one when I saw that the first match today would feature no. 22 seed Tomas Berdych and the promising young American, Sam Querrey. But by the time I got set up at my work station in the media room, Querrey had raced through the first set and was rolling in the second. I hurried to get there for the third.
Regular readers here know that I like the cut of Querrey's game, in that it's serve-based without being overly serve reliant. The distinction puts him a notch above some of the other players who specialize in serving thunderbolts. If anything, I've always wished that Querrey, who's 6-6 and 19 years old, would be a little more inclined to attack behind his heavy cannon shots. I also like Querrey's mind, and overall approach to the game. He seems to feel no pressure, internal or external, to consolidate a high ranking or make a big statement about his potential. He's got a history of taking losses well, which is really a matter of making sure your heart is wearing a raincoat when the inevitable showers fall.
And, finally, Querrey is the most limber, loose and nimble of all the "big" players out there, although his opponent, Berdych, is no slouch in that department, either. In fact, Berdych's game is cleaner than Querrey's, his athleticism is no less impressive, and he can match 150-mph serves with Querrey all day. Berdych may represent the greatest case of unfulfilled talent on the ATP Tour, which is a an enormous left-handed compliment, given that he's been in and out of the Top 10.
Settling into a Grandstand for this clash, I was immediately impressed by the power and pace the two big galoots were generating. Where do you got from a 150-mph serve? Why, to a booming cross-court forehand, hit with both feet lifting from the court. The tricky thing about power is that it invites more power. There are reasons related to physics for this, but it's also because relying on power is addictive. Smack a ball that leaves a scorch mark on the court and you're not just inclined to hit the next one even harder, your natural disdain for what might be called anti-climax demands that you do it. It takes great discipline and a certain kind of skill to play with less power than you're capable of producing. Discretion may be the better part of valor, but spanking the ball sure feels a lot better to most people - or at least those who aren't particularly interested in being hailed as clever, or artistic.
The balls were flying so fast and hard in this match that I glanced at the game-clock with Querrey leading 4-2 in the third. It read 1:20. Could these two big-bangers be striving to set a record for the shortest best-of-five match in US Open history? I marveled at how well both men cover the court, east to west, because of their athleticism. And with their respective wingspans (Berdych is 6-5) and range, each man's cross-court probes opened enormous angles for the opponent - what better invitation to get a little stick on the ball than seeing vast stretches of open blue on one side or the other?
Querrey looked like an enormous bumble-bee in his yellow-and-black kit, and even more impressively, moved like one as well. For a big man, he hits his forehand with a slightly cramped style, except when he's on the run - when he is, we get to see his natural feel and versatility. He'll extend his arm to reach the ball, then use his wrist to apply spin, direction, or both. Querrey's feel is also obvious in his willingness to use the drop shot, and when he ventures forward to volley.
A big cross-court winner gave Querrey a break for 5-2 and, after losing the first two points of his next service game, he tightened things up and ran out the game, ending it on an ace ). After the match, Querrey happily admitted that the performance was one of the three best of his life. The other two, he said, were a win over James Blake last summer, and his upset (a few months ago in Monaco) of Carlos Moya, a former Roland Garros champ and aging but still expert clay-court player.
Someone called out "Gasquet"? (whom Querrey also beat on clay in Monaco) and Querrey answered, as if he'd forgotten, "Yeah, Gasquet, too. And Canas, in Las Vegas. . ."
The quality wins have been showing up on his record with increasing frequency, no doubt. I wondered if, despite his calm approach to career, Querrey didn't experience moments of doubt, or the fear that his progress had either stalled or wasn't sufficiently swift. I asked him about it, and he said:
"Yeah. . . Early (in my career) I was doing better than I thought. I didn't think I was going to go up in the rankings that quickly. But now, there's definitely been parts to this year where I think. . ." He left that thought unfinished, and decided to look at the brighter side. "Now, I'm like 54 (sic - he's ranked 55), maybe. Earlier this summer, I was ranked 37, so you want to be ranked up there in the 30s, because it makes a difference for the end of the year. You get into Paris and Madrid (indoor events ons surfaces favorable to Querrey's big game), the two Masters Series, and it would be nice for me. . . Ideally, I'd like to start '09 seeded for the Australian Open"
As ambitions go, you could hardly call that unrealistic, or pressure-laden. It seemed the result of a practical calculation, rather than fervent hope. That's Querrey's way, and it keeps him loose. He looked loose enough today, and sufficiently on top of his game, to make an impact at this event. Students of the draw know that he has winnable matches against the likes of Nicolas Devilder and Florent Serra in order to land in the same fourth-round bracket as the top seed, Rafael Nadal.
Although Querrey was not a factor in the Beijing Olympics, he enjoyed the game and willingly shared some of his observations. When he was asked if he was thrilled to meet anyone of the Olympic athletes, he told this story:
"I didn't meet him, but it was probably the funniest thing I saw. There was this guy, I think he's from Great Britain, playing badminton. Stocky guy. We were watching him on TV and he won, and I was with James (Blake) and Robby (Ginepri). We were eating lunch and (a little later) he walked in. He was in this sleeveless shirt, like he was the man of the Olympics. Like 20 minutes after he won, he was doing this power-walk, he was the badminton guy. So that was kind of funny. "
Querrey was also surprised by the diminutive sizes of the gymnasts, although I imagine that most people look small to Querrey. "It was weird, the gymnasts are actually much smaller than you might think. On TV they're small, but when they walk in packs, it looks like a group of second-graders. They look about 14, and they're about 4-foot-8."
Playing in the Games was a novel experience for Querrey, and part of his education as a world-class athlete. He claims that he's learning a great deal, and it's showing up in his game. Today, for instance, he won the coin toss and elected to receive; he believes it was the first time in his life he ever did that, and the choice paid off in a break that set the tone for the match. He mused: "I think I'm going to start doing that from now on. I don't know. I think sometimes it's easier to kind of - that first game, can you kind of swing freely, and if you lose it, you lose it, you're still on serve. But it's kind of strange to start off, because I broke him the first game and the third game, and then he broke me the fourth game, I think. So three out of four breaks those first four games is odd, especially with us. We both have pretty big serves. But I don't know. You just have to just stay with it. That can happen."
Indeed, anything can happen, especially in a world loaded with wonders like Lilliputian gymnasts, puffed-up badminton champs, and 6-6 tennis players who are willing to build their careers slowly, one good win at a time - and elect to receive, instead of serve.