The Sony Ericsson Open may or may not be the “Fifth Grand Slam”—we’ll never know for sure, will we? It’s probably not even clear to some fans whether it’s the first Sony Ericsson Open. Is it this one or the similarly named tournament in Doha? This year, though, Key Biscayne did feel as protracted and varied and surprising and at times disappointing as a major. Remember that long rainy day when Federer and Rochus started at midnight? How about Ferrer’s baby shambles? Like most tournaments, the final result wipes away what came before, and that was certainly true on the men’s side. But before we let the latest classic between Novak Djokovic and Rafael Nadal—this time it came with a twist at the end—wash away everything that came before, let’s take a last look back. Here are five ways of thinking about spring’s last hard-court go-round.
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As the second tournament of the future of men’s tennis
By that I mean, of course, that it was the second straight big event that ended with Nadal and Djokovic, rather than Nadal and Federer, in the final. The Spaniard and Serb, ranked No. 1 and 2, and the owners of the last four majors and the last two Masters, have elevated themselves above everyone else for the moment. It feels like a stylistic transition as well, to what I’ve called the slow-court game in the past. That term may seem derogatory—“slow” never sounds as good as “fast,” in any context other than food—but it isn’t meant to be. Anyone who saw Sunday’s final knows they get around the court quickly and hit with creative power. Each hits heavy topspin on the forehand; each moves the serve around rather than going for aces; each uses a two-handed backhand; each returns as well as he serves. Each plays with a sort of offensive-defensive dynamism—I’m not sure exactly what that means, but if you’ve watched these two throw haymakers and try to outmaneuver each other along the baseline, I think you’ll know what I mean. They don’t play baseline tennis so much as go toe-to-toe laterally, rather than by moving forward. There are many worse futures than that.
As the start of another possible, but not probable, future hope for the WTA
Speaking of futures, what did we learn on the women’s side? That history is, as they say, just one damn thing after another, and we try to make rhyme or reason of it at our peril. Did anyone, after her near-defeat to Cibulkova, see a world-beating run like this coming for Victoria Azarenka? That’s just way too 1999 to happen today, don’t you think? I’m not prepared to anoint her the next first-time Slam winner quite yet—I’d be surprised if she survived for long in Marbella this week—but I certainly enjoyed seeing her play so well for a semi-sustained period of time. Take away a little of her old, self-lacerating, hotheaded edge and Vika was transformed into an imperiously confident champion. She hit with a well-measured mix of pace and margin. She betrayed little in the way of nerves even as she got close to the finish line against Clijsters, Zvonareva, and Sharapova. Watching her stare across the net as she waited for the next serve, it really did seem like she was able to do the thing you’re supposed to do but so often can’t: Put the last point behind you. It all came together for her, at least for a week, right down to her appearance: Azarenka looked taller and tanner than ever in Key Biscayne.
As the most painful downtick in the very slow but inevitable decline of Roger Federer
His semi with Nadal may have been the worst I’ve seen him play. Rafa was very good, and very solid when Federer showed a few tiny signs of life midway through the second set. But Federer looked confused from the beginning, unsure of how to approach the slow conditions and the fast man across the net from him. He tried forehands with more topspin than normal, which didn’t work. He tried the crosscourt backhand, but it wasn’t there the way it had been at the World Tour Finals. Finally, he just tried slicing his backhand over the net, and that didn’t work, either—the ball went into the middle of the net instead.
We’ve talked ad nauseum and beyond nauseum about what strategy Federer can use in this situation against Nadal, but what about his emotional approach? The commentators when I was watching thought he should have shown the fans, who were obviously ready to help, some more life, some energy, some sign that he still thought he had a chance. It’s something I’ve mentioned in the past about his matches with Nadal; he lets the Spaniard take up all the positive energy in the building. This time Federer tried out a couple of modest fist-pumps in the second set, but that was it. I doubt it would be a game-changer, and it doesn’t fit Federer’s no-phony-baloney persona (in that he’s a lot like his seeming opposite, John McEnroe), but I don’t think an attempt to change his body language would hurt.
Still, we're duty-bound to add caveats: Federer is only losing to Nadal and Djokovic at the moment. But the surfaces he’s likely to win on now seem to be shrinking; the slow hard courts in Melbourne aren’t going to get easier for him.
As a showcase for the Tennis Channel’s good side
I spent a fair portion of last week in front of the tube watching this tournament. That has its pluses and minuses—a couple of hours of Fish-del Potro on a sunny spring early afternoon can make you a little antsy. But the Tennis Channel was a nice place to be. Where else can the announcers feel free to talk about someone “defending points” without having to do any explaining? Where else can they mention the Petko-dance and know that everyone will picture a German woman shooting off finger-guns after a victory? We’re all friends on that channel.
I liked Lindsay Davenport. She’s still young enough to have played most of the women she’s commenting on, which obviously makes a big difference. (Speaking of which, why isn’t Andre Agassi in any booth yet? His most useful years are slipping past as we speak.) And Lindsay doesn’t come across with an air of, “I was No. 1 and you weren’t.” I’m actually surprised that she does TV at all; this is a woman who said she didn’t want to have a wedding because she didn’t want all those people showing up just to watch her. I also thought Ted Robinson was much better with her than he is with John McEnroe. He knows the game yet brings a slight outsider’s eye to its goings-on. The only downer was not getting to see the minor, improbable classic between Clijsters and Ivanovic.
Let’s see, the ads. As hard as I try, the only one that I can remember now is Federer, the security babes, and the chocolate balls. Did you notice, after he says, “Are you kidding?” to the strip search, that when the camera angle moves behind him, he moves his jaw, as if he’s saying something else? Wonder what it is. I like to imagine it's, “That sounds awesome!”
As a surprise ending
I had Nadal penciled in as the winner of the final from the get-go, and that didn’t change until he got down 5-2 in the third-set tiebreaker. Rafa began with a lot of assertive energy—he wanted this. Djokovic seemed ready to cave, to Nadal, to the heat, to the inevitability of defeat after 23 straight wins. And no one would have blamed him. But, as he said afterward, simple confidence in yourself is enough to overcome anything, even his physical issues. I also think that Djokovic felt like he didn’t have a whole to lose in this match. He’s won plenty, and a loss to the only guy ranked above him wouldn’t have been devastating. Bedrock confidence and a lack of high anxiety are a tough combination to beat.
Still, the ending was an undeniable, old-fashioned twist. I couldn’t, and still can’t, remember the last time Nadal lost a match that tight in a moment that consequential. He always finds a way. This time it was Djokovic who found it first, and he did it the same way Nadal usually does it, with the forehand. In the breaker, Djokovic came up with two strong forehands to get to 5-2, then trumped himself with an outright forehand winner.
What his table-turning, and his undefeated record, means for the immediate future is hard to say—unfortunately for him, Key Biscayne doesn’t lead into a Slam. Instead, we head into Nadal country for the next three months. That’s not just the clay season, but Wimbledon as well. This is when Rafa begins to build his own momentum; if he beats Djokovic in the Monte Carlo final, Key Biscayne will start disappearing into the rearview mirror very quickly.
But it won’t disappear entirely. Djokovic knows the history better than anyone—in the past, he’s lost this match to Rafa. He lost it in Hamburg, he lost it at the Olympics, he lost it in Madrid, he lost it at the U.S. Open last year. Now he’s won it. Like all plot twists, it just made the story a little more interesting than we expected.