Every Grand Slam is a trade-off. If the first 10 days are
dull and by the book, chances are the final weekend will be a dramatic one. And,
conversely, if you see a lot of action—i.e. upsets—through the early rounds, in
the end you’re going to be left without the tension and potential for
historical fireworks that the marquee names bring with them. Novelty and
surprise quickly descend into the fluky and forgettable. The past decade, in which
the majors went to seeding 32 players, thereby reducing the chances for
first-round shockers, has been one where the excitement at the Slams has
typically peaked over the final two days. This year’s Wimbledon, on the both
sides, was an exception. Early chaos led to quiet endings; the
finals were a pair of efficient masterpieces by the world’s No. 1 players that, from a dramatic standpoint, bordered on the tedious. Whether this
tournament heralds a new era of chaos and tedium—particularly on the men’s
side—remains to be seen.
Now, however, is not yet the time to look ahead. It’s time
to review, to judge, to praise, to mock, to trash what transpired over the last
two weeks at the All England Club. Let's start with the praises.
Rafael Nadal
The last three Wimbledon men’s finals were all-time classics
that lasted into the early London evening. So when Nadal hit
a winning crosscourt forehand to end this year’s final, it seemed way too early in
the day for the match to be over.
When he fell on the cracked brown dirt at the baseline, it hardly seemed
like the end of a Wimbledon final at all. There'd been no seesaw drama. The crowd was never
brought to its feet. There was no victor’s climb into the stands.
Even Nadal’s most notable celebratory gesture—he somersaulted soccer-style on
the grass—looked like it had been rehearsed, as if he’d been so confident
of winning that he’d scrapped his last practice session so he could perfect the
somersault.
Of course, if you know anything about tennis, and the subtle
ways in which excellence in the sport works, you couldn’t have bored by Nadal’s
performance. The fact that this match felt like a foregone conclusion is, more
than anything, a credit to his all-business mastery of the moment. Yes, Berdych
failed to capitalize on his few opportunities; the squandered break points at
the start of the second set were particularly crucial. And he fell
apart at exactly the wrong moments. But Nadal was also not at his best. He was
blatantly nervous to begin the second set, and he never reached his peak level
of shot-making energy the whole afternoon. But he didn’t need to be, because, in an inconspicuous way, he had taken Berdych out of his own game. Remember, the Czech was a former nemesis of Nadal’s. He beat him three straight times at one stage,
and his assets were seen as the template for how to beat Nadal: He was tall
enough to handle his topspin, he could hit through the court on either side,
and he owned a two-handed backhand that could go toe-to-toe with Nadal’s
crosscourt forehand.
Considering that Nadal has beaten Berdych in their last seven matches without
dropping a set, how do we like that template now? Watching the final, I started to think that Berdych’s
game is exactly the wrong one to throw up against Rafa, and the reason for that
turnaround was obvious: Nadal had transformed all of Berdych’s old strengths
against him into weaknesses. He drew errors by hitting low slice backhands that
forced Berdych to bend and dig. He hit his crosscourt forehand at a safe and
slightly wider angle than normal to take advantage of Berdych’s lack of reach
with his two-hander. And most important, he stretched Berdych with his bending
slice serve to the backhand side.
Turning you opponent’s strengths into liabilities, and your
own liabilities into strengths: There’s the mark of a mature player, and it’s
got nothing to do with muscle or speed. Nadal and his uncle Toni once said,
with all sincerity, that when Rafa began his pro career he had the worst serve
on tour—the worst. Look what that shot is doing for him now; he just went
through a Grand Slam final unbroken. As I said, all of those
holds did not make for a crowd-pleasing performance. But that’s exactly what we
used to say about Pete Sampras, and, in his days of utter dominance, Roger
Federer. What else does this "dull" duo have in common? They're widely thought of as the two greatest tennis players in history. Nadal has always been celebrated for the youthful vibrancy he brings to tennis. But it may be a
sign that, at 24, he’s reaching his mature peak when we can give him an even
higher compliment. Wear it as a badge of honor, Rafa, because only the very
best are lucky enough to hear it: You were good enough to be called boring. A+
Serena Williams
This was also Serena’s no-drama Slam. She was even more
efficient and Sampras-like than Nadal, and she made the women’s final seem even
more of a foregone conclusion than the men’s. By the end, she was even playing
what I think of as men’s-style grass court tennis. Her serve, her return, and
her first stroke allowed her to clamp down on rallies immediately, to the
point where she didn’t even need to assert her superiority with the rest of her
game. Serena didn’t need to show that she was faster, or a more powerful and
accurate ground-stroker, than Zvonareva. She could win Wimbledon and still keep
something in reserve.
But over the fortnight Serena showed that she can win in
various ways. She absorbed Maria Sharapova’s biggest hits and sent them back to
the corners with even more pace. She fought off the inspired athleticism of
Petra Kvitova, as well as her own nerves, in the semis. In both of those
matches, when the two or three points that made the difference in the match
arrived, Serena won them. For all the talk of how grass-court tennis has
changed, it still comes down to those few moments. It’s about hanging on
to what you're given—namely, your serve—and being patient enough to take what
your opponent gives you—in this instance, a double-fault at 9-9 in a
tiebreaker by Sharapova, which Serena, opportunist extraordinaire, followed up with a soul-crushing ace. We’ve always said that Venus Williams is the greatest women’s
grass-court player of her era. When this era, the Williams era, finally does
end, I don’t think we’ll be saying that anymore. A+
Isner-Mahut
The modern game meets the pre-modern format on a side court in the first round. Awesome and
dull, its quality was mind-numbing. After 40-odd years of professional tennis,
with all of its technology, training, and shot-making evolution, these two
second-tier players showed how proficient—bizarrely proficient—the men’s game
has become. They also showed, especially in the words of the loser, Mahut, how
gracious it has become. The prize ceremony afterward was awkward but sweet. A+
Vera Zvonareva
She’s always had the ball-striking skill, but this time she
managed to channel her famous well of emotion into something positive. She cried
when it was over, but what I’ll remember from her over these two weeks was the
determined but controlled way she pulled ahead in her third sets with Clijsters
and Pironkova. Zveonareva looked like she was learning on the spot that she really does have a top-level game. A
Tomas Berdych
If he never reaches another major final, Berdych will go
down as a footnote in tennis history—conqueror of Federer, victim of Nadal,
and, if the men’s game continues to get taller, a sign of things to come.
When he first appeared seven years ago, he looked
like the next step, after Marat Safin, in towering, effortless power. But for
years he was a cold and indifferent competitor, and the smoothness of his game
got lost underneath that icily frustrating surface. But it rose back up in the quarters and semis at Wimbledon.
The inside-out forehand that Berdych seems to caress for 90-m.p.h. winners, in
particular, is a shot I’ve never seen from anyone. It was fun and inspiring to watch Berdych exceed himself in the final game against Federer, but that success
made it a little surprising that he couldn’t find a way to do it again in the
final. Where he'd been bold, he was hesitant, his shot selection confused. He missed balls even before he got a chance to pull the trigger on a big one.
Is Berdych the next del Potro, a guy on his way to better things? Or is he the next Soderling, a guy who may have hit his ceiling? If I had to guess, I'd say the latter. It's tough to make yourself significantly more confident, to re-imagine yourself and your place in the game, in the middle of your career. Either way, when he’s striking the ball
smoothly and competing with heart, Berdych is an appealing addition to the top
tier. Only unexplained moment: What inside joke was he laughing at as he
pointed to his box after beating Federer? Who would have thought that the
cold-eyed Czech would consider the biggest win of his career so hilarious? A
***
Back with the rest, and the worst, tomorrow.