Reality Postponed
You could make the case that these are the most emblematic Grand Slam matches of them all, the ones that seem to bring a major to life, the ones that bring a crooked smile to your face. I'm not talking about some run-of-the-mill throwdown between the superstars, that same-old, same-old Roger Federer vs. Rafael Nadal or Serena Williams vs. Justine Henin stuff.
I'm talking, oh, Robert Kendrick (ATP No. 237 and a qualifier at the time) vs. Nadal at Wimbledon in 2006. Jerome Haehnel (No. 271 and a qualifier making his tour debut) vs. Andre Agassi at Roland Garros in 2004. No. 70 Melanie Oudin vs. No. 4 Elena Dementieva at the 2009 U.S. Open. How about lucky loser and ATP No. 145 George Bastl going up against mighty Pete Sampras, seven-time champion, at the All England Club in 2002, or No. 122 Michael Russell out there on the Court Philippe Chatrier, trading licks with three-time French Open champ—and world No. 1—Gustavo Kuerten?
We're talking the impossible dream realized, or so close to being realized that the entire world sits at the edge of its collective seat, wishing—or dreading—that the ridiculously prohibitive underdog won't wake up for another 15 or 20 minutes, giving him or her ample time to make real what seems so improbable.
Ion Tiriac makes an interesting point when he says Grand Slam tournaments ought to have no more than 32 starters, sort of like how F-1 auto races are open to only the very best drivers. But should that happen, we would be denied one of the true delights of major championship tennis, and an element that increases both the degree of difficulty, for which the majors are famous, and the sense that the guy or woman holding up the trophy at the end of the day is truly the last player standing.
Keeping out the riff-raff like qualifiers, lucky losers and wild cards would eliminate the upset heard-round-the-world, which is part and parcel of only two major athletic events I can think of offhand: Grand Slam tennis and the NCAA Basketball tournament. Eliminating the chance of such upsets or near-upsets would diminish those events far more than they're hurt by these upsets occuring. And they occur rarely, which only enhances their charm and significance.
We had one of those unlikely upsets at Roland Garros today, as France's Stephane Robert, a 31-year-old from Montargis, ranked No. 140, kept his eyes closed long enough to finish his impossible dream. He prevailed over Tomas Berdych, the No. 6 seed and a semifinalist at Roland Garros (and finalist at Wimbledon) just last year, 9-7 in the fifth, in a real corker (see Racquet Reaction). Do you think Berdych, who's mind is more sieve than steel trap, was seeing those Grand Slam semifinal ranking points falling through his sifter as all this was going on?
Not all out-of-the-blue upsets are equally resonant, or comparably seismic. Some of them don't even happen; they become a memorable tease (Kuerten beat Russell in that Roland Garros battle, and Nadal battled back to throttle serving-and-volleying Kendrick at Wimbledon). Some of the upsets occur after a round or two has already been played (such was the case for Oudin). Many of them feature mitigating circumstances, like injury, or the age of the favorite, as was the case with Sampras vs. Bastl and Agassi vs. Haehnel. Robert's accomplishment was an unqualified one. In myriad ways, it was the picture-perfect upset.
For starters, Robert is a Frenchman who was playing before his home crowd. That's always an value-added component in these situations, and it undoubtedly helps drive them. I mean, it's a little different—and more daunting as well as more inspiring—to be playing before fickle Parisians rather than the burghers of Reunion Island (I'd better link this baby) or Le Gousier, both of which are French-speaking outposts recently visited by Robert on the Challenger Tour trail.
You could almost hear the wheels churning in the head of the tournament director when he tried to figure out where to put this match. He couldn't very well send it to an outside court; that would be somewhat insulting to last year's semifinalist, Berdych. It might also appear a slight to the Frenchman, who earned his way into the draw via qualifying and, at 31, was unlikely to have many more French Opens left in his medicine bag. But you didn't really want to put this on a prime show court, either. Not with defending women's champ Francesca Schiavone, Federer, Gael Monfils, and others in the chamber.
Besides, you wouldn't want Robert to feel too much like a Christian meeting a lion on the floor of a packed Coliseum; he's had exactly one Grand Slam main-draw win in his career going into this one (he beat Potito Starace of Italy in Melbourne in 2010), and it's unlikely they put that one on first at night on Rod Laver Arena. So Robert was put on Court No. 2—a perfect choice, given that a legion of French fans was sure to fill it up and irritate if not exactly intimidate Berdych, while creating an emotional wave of support on which Robert might surf to victory. Which was how it worked out, and when did you last see fans do the wave on Court 2 or any equivalent thereof, during a first-round match?
I'd just come in from a run and flicked on the TV when the fellas were in the fifth set. I stood there, still dripping perspiration, with Buck the wonder dog making whimpering demands for breakfast, trying my dangest not to get sucked into the vortex of hope Robert had created. As much as we enjoy witnessing a shocking or even historic upset, when the underdog crumbles at the key moment and ends up losing a four-hour match that absolutely nobody will remember within 18 hours (which is usually what happens) it's pretty easy to conclude that you've just wasted a goodly chunk of your life.
But I couldn't tear myself away. It was easy to pull for Robert in this match; he even looked like a archetypal qualifier, what with his scruffy facial hair and seemingly unwarranted, roguish confidence and air of command. He was doing his best to postpone a previously scheduled meeting with reality. His shoes were scuffed and well worn, unlike the pristine, out-of-the-box new kicks worn by Berdych. Robert wore a blue t-shirt, but that's neither here nor there these days, since apparel makers have decided that just because they're going to get 50 or 60 bucks for the garment doesn't mean they're obliged, as they once were, to put a collar, buttons and knit cuffs on it. And Robert's trucker's cap, if not his forehand, was vintage Jim Courier.
I had to wonder if Robert hadn't consulted a Hollywood stylist or wardrobe expert when I noticed his cap was so old and worn I couldn't even read whatever message was on it crown, and that the leading edge of the bill was visibly torn and unraveling. How could you not pull for the 31-year-old grubber when the other guy resembled some 25-year-old in a Tommy Hilfiger ad?
Robert never in his life cracked the Top 60, and never won a five-setter. It was far from certain that he had much chance to win this one, either. Berdych wasn't playing all that badly, and while Robert was playing awfully well, he was also playing very fast, taking no time at all between points. His lack of deliberation was both unusual and ominous. Hasn't Novak Djokovic recently taught us how far you can go when you bounce the ball 435 times, with frequent pauses, before you serve?
Not Robert. He handled the ball like it was a hot potato, tossing it up and swatting it in a blur of motion. It looked as if, like some cartoon character, he was going to run right out of his shoes—the equivalent of which in tennis is going down, fast, in a blaze of wild errors with the occasional winner thrown in to keep things interesting—for a while.
But that familiar script didn't work this time. It was as if playing at warp-speed protected Robert from having to face reality, to wake up to the fact that 99 out of 100 times, he's going to lose a match like this. He didn't open his eyes until after he won the match with yet another service winner that kicked up a puff of red dirt.
But I don't want to create the impression that Robert was lucky, or the beneficiary of supernatural advantages. He played an excellent match, kept his head, and remained bold. Everyone engaged in an art or craft ought to have one masterpiece that represents a lifetime of hard labor, hope and vision. This was Stephane Robert's, and I'm glad I saw it.