A very nice post by Pete on Nole's Shanghai triumph, Roger's transition year, and Rafa's manifest destiny. But in particular, I loved this:
The silence in TennisWorld is, as they say, deafening,
right? It seems like just over a week ago, I was grousing about the
endless season and what was shaping up as a Sharade in Shanghai, and
now I'm feeling a little paranoid and darting glances left and right:
Hey, where did everybody go? What, no tennis? It's an outrage!!!!!!!
When it comes to this game, it seems that there's a little bit of
the kid left in all of us. One moment, we're gorging on ice cream
(okay, feel free to post your favorite flavor - I'm going with Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia), the next, after the tummy ache has worn off, we're clamoring for. . . more ice cream.
I too am exhausted by this tennis season, and I admit, last week I just wanted it all to be over. But now it's Monday and I'm sad that I don't have awesome shit to write about. Boo.
Tignor also weighs in on the TMC, the lengthy season destructive effect, and Nole's dominant performance:
As he had in his angry win over Roddick at the U.S. Open, Djokovic
reminded fans yesterday of why he'd been called the future of tennis as
2008 began. He was hitting with absurd depth on his backhand. He was
using his drop shot not as a do-or-die point-ender, but as a sane,
mid-point change of pace. He was drilling his on-the-run forehand like
Pete Sampras in his prime. He was showing off his daredevil flexibility
on defense. He was taking everything as early as possible, changing the
direction of the ball whenever he could, and keeping it far from the
center of the court. I’ve rarely seen anyone play a less predictable,
or more watchable, two sets of baseline tennis. When Djokovic
got his feet under him and had time to set up—which was most of the
time—there was a sense that he could do anything he wanted with the
ball from any position on the court. For the first time since June,
Djokovic looked like a streamlined Federer for the future.
Perhaps most encouraging, though, was Djokovic’s mind-set. For
months he had floundered through important matches, lacking the
controlled edginess that has always produced his best tennis. Rather
than mastering his frustration—which, more than with Federer or Nadal,
is an integral part of his competitive makeup—he seemed helpless to
combat his anger and ready to throw in the towel at the first sign that
it might not be his day. For a set and a half, Davydenko failed to
plant a seed of frustration in Djokovic's head. The Serb shook off his
few misses, kept firing into the corners, and added more topspin for
safety on crucial points in the second set. If anything, his edge was a
positive one: After winning a point at 3-2 in the second, Djokovic
leaped and punched the air in an apparent apparent tribute to his
fallen comrade Nadal.