From Tignor's write up on L-Rob and Burrito:
Unfortunately, the serve was also Robson's biggest enemy today. She double-faulted consistently, especially during the biggest moments, including match point. That said, it didn't look like her mechanics broke down, a la Dementieva; she just overhit, mostly because of nerves—her one errant toss came, not coincidentally, when she went up a break in the second set—but also partly because she hasn't had time to develop a second serve of iron-clad reliability. At this point, it remains virtually identical to her first one.
Not surprisingly, Bollettieri was also right about Robson's weaknesses: her movement and her big-loop backhand. The two are not unrelated, according to Nick. "Her backswing is too high," he leaned over and graveled, "so when she's rushed her contact point can be late, and that's trouble." Hantuchova had success taking Robson's time away by going right at her forehand. The Brit, who is already 5-foot-8, didn't catch up to that shot all afternoon. "Let me tell you," Bollettieri intoned with a tap of his hand on my knee, "movement is going to be the key with Laura. She's got to get in the best shape of her life and make herself as fast as possible."
"She's a great girl," Nick leaned back and said just before walking away. "Great girl, very nice. Maybe too nice."
Like a guy at the end of a first date, a young player does not want to hear the phrase "too nice." Robson is indeed charming, as she proved in her jam-packed presser today. Poised, proper, smart, snarky, she parried questions from every corner of the room—about her recent exams, about Federer vs. Murray (she's picking Federer, but hopes "Andy proves me wrong"), about her coach ("he's nothing special" she said with a dry smile), about the fact that she blew a set and a break lead ("thanks for rubbing it in"), about whether she has time to socialize ("what do you want me to say, I've got no friends?"), about whether Henman Hill should be renamed Robson Ridge ("it's not really a ridge, is it?")—with the kind of self-possessed wit that Americans believe is the birthright of all Britons. I walked out trying to imagine myself in that situation when I was 15. All I could do was shudder.
I hope for tennis' sake that Robson isn’t too nice, that she doesn't have too much personality, too much variety in her brain. Not that she's pretending to be an intellectual—she's too smart for that. When Robson was asked what she does in her downtime, she said, "Uhm, I watch Gossip Girl. But no, season two is finished. I'm so depressed." I hear you, Laura.
Though, a quick point of clarification for Steve. L-Rob and Burrito are not Queen Bee's. Not even close. Not yet.