NEW YORK—Francesca Schiavone produced an astonishing feel-good story at Roland Garros a few months ago. Ranked and seeded No. 17, the 29-year old journeyman from Italy—a nation that never produced a female Grand Slam champion—bagged what is arguably the second most coveted major title (after Wimbledon) for a European. And just to ensure that this fit the story-of-the-year template (some requirements: the achievement must be improbable, unpredictable, and unlikely to be repeated), Schiavone was grandly slammed out of the first round of Wimbledon a few weeks later and promptly vanished into the WTA woodwork.
Schiavone's record between Wimbledon and the U.S. Open was an air-thin 3-6, and she rolled into New York a vulnerable No. 6 seed. When you write a grandiose feel good story, you're only supposed to feel good once. And when reporters write the story of your feel-good story, they've had their fill of you for a good decade, thank you very much. Even a dog gets tired of his favorite chew-toy, which is why we haven't heard that much about Schiavone thus far in New York.
But it appears that Frankie girl is bent on tinkering with that template. It's like she wants to write a feel great story. Schiavone, champion of Roland Garros and New York in 2010? Hahahahahaha!
If you've been watching her play here, and have witnessed her mood and form, you might not be so inclined to laugh.
Today, Schiavone crushed Russia's Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova 6-3, 6-0 (forget about 'Pova's shoulder troubles for a moment) to reach the U.S. Open quarterfinals. The other one rode the Q-train in 1930; her name: Maud Levi Rosenbaum, which doesn't have quite have the same musical, Italianate cadence as Francesca Schiavone, but never mind about that. Maybe I confuse Rosenbaum with an actress who played an Italian therapist in a Woody Allen movie.
I didn't see much of the match, of which there wasn't much to see. But I had a chance to take a good look at the raven-haired, droll Schiavone a round earlier when she played Alona Bondarenko, who had given Schiavone just five games the last time the two met, in Fed Cup play early in the year 2010, BRG (Before Roland Garros). I was impressed; how could I have so ignored the French Open champion?
Apparently, Schiavone doesn't buy into this "once is quite enough" mandate for surprise Grand Slam champions. And it isn't as if it's just about whatever template-busting maneuvers Schiavone has simmering like a pot of pasta in the back of her mind. It's also about her game, which is, hands-down, the most inventive one going in WTA circles these days. And it's a game that's largely been under-appreciated for years, a situation for which she bears more responsibility than do we. If Schiavone had not won Roland Garros, nobody would be analyzing her topspin forehand or slice backhand, except while three sheets to the wind in the tournament bar. It's one of those tree falling in forest things.
Say what you will about Martina Navratilova's volley, Justine Henin's topspin backhand, Steffi Graf's slice or Aravane Rezai's forehand. Then cut-and-paste together all those thoughts and—presto!—you've got a fair description of Schiavone's game. But remember, that guarantees absolutely nothing. She isn't the first player in history to have it all, or most of it, and find herself unable to accomplish squat. A deep run here would just leave hanging the question: Why did she wait so long to show us what she's got?
Schiavone's game has been extremely effective on this relatively fast, slick, low-bounce surface. She's lost just 13 games in four matches. How could her game be as good on quick cement and as it was a few months ago on red clay? That's an easy one: because it's more about the effect the dramatic shifts between slice, flat and topspin have on an opponent than on the bounce. And it's also about how unaccustomed your rank and file WTA player is these days to such variety. The ability to throw out different looks is a pretty good way to ensure that the other girl starts nervous and stays nervous. Tennis players thrive on consistency, and they hate legerdemain. But each swing of Schiavone's racket is like a package from your crazy aunt. You're never sure what's inside—a set of very cute finger bowls, or a shrunken head.
Also, when Schiavone was asked how her game came to be as effective as it presently is on hard courts, she replied: "I think I have the physical possibility because I am fast. And also to keep going, to mix this kind of shot, that is my quality. Is not easy to play on hard-court, so I think I put some problems to the players to play so different."
In other words, she's quick, inclined to confuse, and—this part she left out, but we can add—the court speed allows me to take time away from an opponent.
She went on: "For sure on clay I have more time, so I can take you and go 10 shots, 20 shots, 30 shots. Here is not like this. But in the same way, I can do serve and volley. I can play faster. I can play slow and back. Is a mix. It's like a Capricciosa pizza. I don't give you Margherita, I give you Capricciosa, kind of different ingredient(s)."
Stop it, Frankie, you're making us hungry.
"Capricciosa" has the same root as the noun, "caprice," and "capricious" would be a pretty good definition of Schiavone's style if it did not also imply whim. One thing Schiavone has convinced me of this week is that her shot selection is anything but whimsical; she's a tactician of the first order. All of which adds up to a conviction that the only thing that Schiavone has lacked is determination. Or maybe it's confidence. It begs the question, where was the Schiavone of 2010 in 2008? or '06, or '02?
So Schiavone has Venus Williams next. If the French Open champ retains her present form, she could present Venus with a load of problems, for Schiavone's variety will test Williams in the area where she's appeared most vulnerable—consistency. Schiavone's game is ideally suited for goading errors out of any player whose technique is prone to breakdown.
My pal Ubaldo Scanagattta (you can read his blog here) tells me that on the eve of the French Open quarterfinals, the Italian tennis federation posted a bonus plan: Schiavone received 100,000 Euros for making the quarters, with the chance to add another 100k for each round she survived. Having won the final, Schiavone raked in a cool 400,000 Euros, roughly half-a-million dollars—and that was on top of her winner's check for almost $1.5 million.
"If they go like that again," Ubaldo said, "The federation will become bankrupt."
But it sure will keep Schiavone in Capricciosa pizza for life.