Off the Rails

I could just picture the conversation that took place between Willy Canas and Tommy Robredo in the locker room shortly before they strolled out to play the last remaining quarterfinal of the Sony Ericsson Open this evening:

Willy: Okay, Tommy, I have an idea. Let's go out and you pretend you're Tommy Haas and I'll pretend I'm Fernando Gonzalez.

Tommy:  Wow, Willy, Awesome idea! (holds racquet like guitar and does that Pete Townsend windmill move for emphasis). Tommy rocks and Gonzo, that dude is mad crazy! We could do, like, an imitation of that Australian Open semifinal they played a few months ago.

Willy: Cool! That's what I'm thinking.

Tommy (expression clouds over): But. . . That was a beatdown. Gonzo had like 41 winners to three unforced errors. We're not going to go there, are we?

Willy: Nah. Fernando gets a little more stick on the ball and he opens up the court better. I'm kind of stuck being a grinder.You'll get your shots. And when didn't you take one, given the chance?

Tommy: But I don't exactly serve like Haas. . . (sighs).

Willy: Aw, Tommy, let's not beat ourselves up over it. They're them and we're we, right. Nice shirt, by the way, what is it, like. . . cantaloupe?

Tommy: Tangerine, it's tangerine!

And that's just about how it went tonight. Canas and Robredo, in a cantaloupe shirt that you'd expect to see on a tourist wandering around South Beach hoping to spot a celebrity, had a good old-fashioned Gonzo-worthy shoot-out. They started out in fourth gear and stayed in fourth gear. If you ever wanted to see two very dedicated, talented players go out and whack the kitten around just to see who can hit it harder, for longer, this was your match. It was like two little kids spinning around, trying to see who would get dizzy enough to fall over first.

For a set they did a pretty good job taking turns falling down. It was hugely entertaining, immensely brainless, balls-to-the-wall tennis. Like a good car chase, it was fun to watch and it meant nothing.

In a way, it was the perfect match for the hordes of Spanish speaking fans who have made this event the de facto Grand Slam of South America: a pair of Spanish speakers, acting out a Quien es mas macho? skit to which they could all relate. * Which reminds me: these fans are starting to but me. What is there, some secret Andalusian law against being Cuban or Argentinian  or Panamanian and actually rooting for someone whose mother tongue isn't Spanish? You know what, caballeros -  It'sokay* to be from Venezuela and cheer for Roger Federer. Honest! Or Ivan Ljubicic. Or Andy Roddick. Oh, I know it's a harmless expression of some kind of collective pride, but I'm bored by the predictability and sameness of it all.

You get the feeling that if The Mighty Fed were on the cusp of completing a historic Grand Slam, crawling to the service line with his entrails hanging out to serve for the match after being two sets, two breaks, and three match points down down to Feliciano Lopez (as if. . .), this crowd would be chanting, Feli! Feli! Feli!

Anyway, what I love about Robredo is that he's do danged sincere and so clueless. Maybe being named after a rock opera has something to do with that, maybe not. But in any event, this is the guy who watched Spinal Tap and probably walked out actually thinking it really would be cool if they put that number 11 on the volume control on the amplifier. He's the toy race car that goes faster and faster and faster and finally flies off the rails and breaks your mom's favorite vase. Go big or stay home. Tommy doesn't like sitting around the house.

So it was that after playing a warp-speed first set distinguished by acrobatic, breathtaking tennis and  agonizingly  competitive points, Tommy surrendered the tiebreaker (7-5)  to Canas, and promptly flew off the track. Pretty soon, the kittens were flying all over the place, which is what happens when you club them with the shaft instead of the strings. You know you're in trouble when the guy you're playing is a more modulated, purposeful player and it turns out he's -Willy Canas!  That was the difference. Canas played with a shade more restraint and control. It was almost like he had a plan or something, but maybe I'm getting carried away.

I assumed that Robredo was going to do a presser, so I never bothered to inquire. It turned out that nobody requested him for an interview. It was just as well; it didn't seem like a good time to be asking the questions that mattered. The same could be said, for different reasons, of Willy Canas, who is in the midst of a barn-burning comeback from a doping suspension. Cruising through the press transcripts, I found scant mention of that episode, even though TMF made some pointed remarks about Canas in a press conference following his loss to Canas at Indian Wells.

This riff is probably the most controversial thing Federer has ever said, and the most strongly he's ever issued a covert rebuke to another player. I had wanted to follow up to see how many of the other players had similar misgivings, especially now that Canas is no longer a disgraced player trying to eke out a living but a quickly re-emerging force in the game. I never got the chance, at Indian Wells or here.

Canas did have a presser, and he seemed in such a good mood that I almost felt guilty raising the doping issue - after holding off for an appropriate interval while he talked about his match and how good it felt for him to be in a Masters Series semifinalist again. This is an impressive guy. He seems oddly warm for someone who projects severity with his disciplined, all-business (occupation: grinder)  game, his hair pulled back in a bun and scraggly beard. He is reticent but direct; his features are small and chiseled but his voice is soft. He's a little like Marcelo Rios, but without the creepy watery eyes and foetid air of contempt for everyone in his line of sight.

I asked: Now that you're back and in the mix among the top players and stuff on a regular basis, are there any lingering effects from the suspension?  Do you think people view you differently?  Do you think there's any resentment at you for the way you're back?

A:  I don't know.  The real thing is I don't know.  Just I try to be focused on my tennis.  I'm trying to spend time with the people I love.  I try to spend time with the players I have a very good relationship.
But the real thing is I don't know. Just I come here to do my best again. I try here to prove my innocence. I feel very innocent. I've proven in the test, and now in Swiss, and another part of this history. But really I try to be focused on the tennis, and when I get into the court I try to do my best.

I followed up: Were you concerned at all that people would look at you a different way when you came back?

A: Not really. Just the looking at Cañas fighting every point.  Looking at the player before, the tough player on the court.  And I think they look the same guy that was before, just everybody know I didn't do nothing to take advantage in any way.

I am the same player I was before, just more happy when I get into the court, because I enjoy every day more and more.

Another reporter said, "The Player Council just voted now to remove this wildcard benefit for people coming back from suspension.  What do you think about that?"

A:  Stupid.  I think it's stupid.  That's it.

Well, I suppose he would have to think that. I had thought I might bring up Federer's remarks, but it didn't seem like the right thing to do at the moment. Maybe I'll get to ask him about it sometime, and I should try to determine how a broad spectrum of players feels about all this. However I cut it, I don't see Canas through the same eyes as I did before, much as I'd like to, but that's probably because I substantially agree with TMF's assessment about dopers always having a story. Always.

What I think hardly matters in the big picture, though, because society itself - or is it just tennis fans? -  are a far more forgiving (or is it oblivious?) lot than some critics would have us to think. I remember how Red Sox fans would ride Jose Canseco mercilessly when the Oakland A's visited Fenway Park, chanting Just say no, Just say no, each time Canseco came up to bat. But here in Miami, there hasn't been even a hint of censure or skepticism. Canas has been embraced; the PA announcer drawled his name when the match ended like Canas is the heavyweight champion of the world. There is a lot of forgiveness and sympathy on offer, and all was well for Willy Canas and TennisWorld tonight.