Bright lights: Who will come out on top inside the bowels of Arthur Ashe?
August really is a rather strange month. This knocked me on the head the other day as I was taking my morning constitutional in the pouring rush hour rain, running the gauntlet of umbrellas processing solemnly to tube and bus stop. It is a deadwood time, when the majority of folk are either on holiday, or wishing they were on holiday.
For the travelling tennis caravan of players, physios, press, and public who traipse from airport to stadium and back again, August is almost like December. It is a month of build-up, the only really extended period of time when players have a chance to step back, sit down, and start all over again, allowing for tucks and tweaks on and off the court.
In fact, such has been the gap between Wimbledon’s leafy surrounds and the hot dog-infused hard courts of the US Open that we’re entering Flushing Meadows with some intriguing yarns, an earthquake and a hurricane to keep an eye on.
Top of the list is the various machinations of the Big Four. The 125th Championships ended with a very clear pecking order. Top, the new No 1, Novak Djokovic, an injured (although he claimed not) Rafael Nadal, a resurgent but reflective Andy Murray, and a wounded (in mind) Roger Federer.
Two months on, the four planets have jiggled a bit. Djokovic is still at the top, succumbing to just one more loss, a retirement at that, his 57-2 the best win-loss record since John McEnroe entered New York with 59-2 next to his name in 1984. He’s also the first man ever to lift five Masters Series shields in a season. Yes, he has a shoulder niggle. But is it serious?
Next there’s Murray. After a month lifting weights, modifying his diet, and cutting his hair, it almost looked as if the British No 1 had DeLoreaned his back to March when he slumped his way to a straight sets defeat in Montreal. But, left clutching the ugliest of trophies in Cincinnati a week later, Murray suddenly looked like he had in Australia in January. Focused and fierce and fit. One good week does not a grand slam champion make, of course. But the last time Murray won in Mason, he was in the Flushing Meadows final three weeks later. Fact.
In my view, that leaves the great rivals Federer and Nadal joint third, Roger perhaps a touch ahead because of the hard court conditions. Rafa, who holidayed on a yacht and joined Twitter during July, has also picked up a cold to add to whatever lingering physical issues may or may not have been troubling him. A first-match exit in Montreal was followed by a quarter-final in Cincy, yes, but also a three and a half hour grind against Fernando Verdasco along the way that cannot have helped. Federer, who holidayed on a different yacht, was outplayed by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in Montreal, produced some very good goods to beat Juan Martin Del Potro, before allowing himself to be blown off court by Tomas Berdych. But these two are still hungry enough not to do the same in a grand slam situation, one would think.
And then there are the others. At Wimbledon, who was the fifth best player in the world? Tsonga? Feliciano Lopez? David Ferrer? Bernard Tomic? Whoever it was, it’s not him any more. It’s Mardy Fish, the formerly sockless wonder who now tapes his skinny ankles almost up to his equally skinny knees. Fish, the US Open Series champion, reached three finals on the bounce during the American hard court swing, and came credit card-close to making that four against Murray. For a 28 year-old who has only made two grand slam quarter-finals before, that’s pretty damn good.
Jump the gender divide, and instead of the big four, there’s just a big one. Serena Williams. Fleeing SW19 after a fourth-round exit, with an oh-so-lowly world ranking of No 169, and approaching the wrong side of 30, not even Mystic Meg would have tried the Tarot cards. And yet, here she is, US Open Series champion, back-to-back titles in tow, and, yet again, the name at the top of everyone’s favourite sheet. Remarkable.
The USTA have not, unlike Wimbledon, bumped Serena up the seedings, meaning she takes her place in the Flushing Meadows draw as the 28th seed (one up from her ranking of 29 thanks to the withdrawal of Kim Clijsters). So it won’t be easy. But she is still guaranteed not to run into one of the top eight till the fourth round. By which time the hooped earrings should be flying.
Serena has been helped by the very sad absence of Clijsters, whose dream of a third consecutive New York trophy, fourth in total, was ended by an abdominal tear. The rest of the WTA are in a sort of disarray. World No 1 Caroline Wozniacki coach-less but with a new boyfriend (Hi Rory), the likes of new slam champs Li Na and Petra Kvitova desperately lacking confidence, and many, many others injured. How else could Jelena Jankovic, a self-proclaimed dark horse (before she retracted it), end up in the Cincinnati final?
There is another female with a mission. Maria Sharapova. Who else could serve 13 double faults in a final and still end up winning it? But Sharapova, much like Federer, looks thirsty. Losing the Wimbledon final has been an impetus rather than an impediment. It seems.
Of course, all of this depends on a multitude of things – the draw, the impending weather fronts, the mood of the crowds, and most crucially, the state of any given player on any given day inside the bowels of Arthur Ashe. There are no second chances.
All in all, it’s set to be another fascinating grapple in the Big Apple.
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