KEY BISCAYNE, Fla.—Sometimes, a weakness is a blessing in disguise, and a flaw can bear surprisingly sweet fruit. When Andy Roddick ventured forth on the pro tour, he toted a massive serve, a bone-crushing forehand, and a sanguine love of competition. They were enough to earn him a Grand Slam title at the U.S. Open in 2003 and a world No. 1 ranking—but not enough to secure a steady perch at the top of the game.
A lot has happened since then. Roger Federer happened. Rafael Nadal happened. Tennis changed, and Roddick could have been forgiven for taking a realistic approach to the altered landscape, humming “to everything, turn, turn, turn . . .” as he plugged away, shortcomings and all, and settled for capitalizing on his celebrity as the lone Grand Slam champion of his struggling, once-great nation.
Roddick didn’t do that, though. He chose, instead, to work on those weaknesses, even though some said they were critical and career-defining. The backhand was a shot meant only to keep him alive in rallies long enough to load up and fire the forehand. The footwork was sketchy. His overall sense of strategy, pace and shot selection—even when the shot was that howitzer serve—were superficial. Roddick came onto the tour leading with his chin, and it paid off; since then, he’s taken it on the chin but he isn’t punch-drunk yet.
Over the years, through crushing defeats (including the emblematic three consecutive losses to Federer at Wimbledon, two of which were finals), a succession of coaches, criticism that the game had passed by his “type” (the meat-and-potatoes power-player whose game is built around the serve), Roddick kept the faith. More importantly, he worked. He worked like a dog trying to keep pace with the fire truck barreling down his street, tongue hanging out, nails clicking and worn and bleeding on the pavement, chest heaving, but always keeping that vehicle in sight.
Yesterday here at the Sony Ericsson Open, the fruits of all his labor were manifest, as he eliminated Gael Monfils, 7-6, 6-4, to earn a quarterfinal berth opposite . . . Federer. Roddick has a tough row to hoe, but then he’s playing with house money. What’s he going to do, go ballistic if his record falls to 2-17?
In Monfils, Roddick faced a player much like himself—or at least the Andy Roddick of yore. Monfils can really bring the big serve, and he can smack the forehand. He even lines up to serve just like Roddick, poised with his ankles practically touching before he arches his back and goes up for the ball, like a salmon leaping clear of the water.
But the contrast between the two men in one key area was stark. Roddick has modulated his power, sharpened his focus, and radiates the discipline and patience of a craftsman hard at work doing something he loves. Monfils, by contrast, looks like he’s mostly interested in setting himself up for the spectacular counter-punch. Rope-a-dope of the kind Monfils plays is a risky strategy at best, and allowing an opponent to dictate the tone and pace of a match can be borderline suicidal.
But what the hay—Monfils is still a pup at 22, and he’s also born and bred on clay, where counter-punching your way to glory on the strength of your quads and your ability to pull a forehand rabbit out of your hat pays better dividends than on hard courts. Monfils broke Roddick and served for the set at 6-5, but Roddick won that game and the momentum carried him through the tiebreaker. It was, for all practical purposes, over.
“I think he gives you ample opportunity,” Roddick said later of Monfils. “He likes to do the rope-a-dope thing a little bit. He likes to invite you in, then if you don’t come in, he beats you with length on the next ball. He’s quick enough to be able to pass a lot, so I just tried to at least make my approach shots firm if I did it.”
“Firm” was a good choice of word; “crisp” might have been even better. There was a time when Roddick may have hit his forehand harder, but he’s rarely used it better, or to more deadly effect. All of which is the culmination of —and payoff for—the work he’s put into his game. This week—nay, this year (he is 24-4 in singles, with one title) —Roddick has been playing perhaps the most dialed-in, calm, masterful tennis of his life.
“I feel good and I feel confident,” he said. “I think the big difference is that you get to those 30-all points and I just feel. . . calm. . and like I’m going to play the point the way I want to. I feel like I’m able to plan out more what I’m gonna do. I have maybe some more options now. Yeah. I just feel calm on the court. It’s nice, but I think it can still be improved. It’s only been a couple of months, that I’ve been playing a little better, so. . . “
So how does he feel, going up against Federer tomorrow?
“It is what it is,” he said. “This press conference hasn’t changed for years. It’s going to be tough. . . but I’m going to go out there and just go after it.”
The fire truck is still out in the lead, but it seems this dog just won’t quit.
Peter Bodo, a senior editor for TENNIS magazine, also writes the TennisWorld blog.