Risk, the Game: Miami CC, Day 8
by Pete Bodo
Good mornin' from Maimi, amigos. I'm a little late to the party today (and yes, I know, I've got all the hootch and music) but I had to do a little editing on my Davis Cup captain's diary story for Tennis magazine. Also for Tennis, I'll be writing a Venus Williams piece for July, which in my mind is shaping up more and more as a tribute to Venus's prowess there. I have this gut feeling that, given the sibling dynamic, Wimbledon has in a sense become Venus's house - the place where she finds something like refuge and inspiration, and also taps into her pride - as if she's thinking, Hey, as long as I've got Wimbledon, I'm fine.
Today, as you undoubtedly know, is another Williams Day at the Sony-Ericsson Open. So I'll be on Williams watch and probably will post here and at Tennis.com on the girls. Hopefully, I'll be done in time to kick back with a GE and contemplate the beauties of the final match of the day, Federer vs. Roddick.
Nice discussion at the post below on Roddick, BTW. I'd like to clarify one thing, though: I don't believe I talked about Roddick working harder than his peers (although I believe he does) at all. My point was that it's been enjoyable and somewhat gratifying to watch Roddick develop and change - to see him enjoy the fruits of his labor. How can you begrudge any man that? I guess if you don't see (as I do) an entirely different Roddick than you did, say, three years ago (by which time Roddick was already an established star and former world no. 1), there's nowhere this discussion can go. And if you think I implicitly slighted Roddick's peers, I ask you a simple question: how many of them have undergone anything like a comparable transformation? Why not single out the guy who's stepped it up and taken the initiative?
And let's remember that in tennis, there's work, and work toward change. All the world-class players practice a lot; the vast majority of them also train fairly hard. But to some degree they're either saddled with or content with the games they have. They make do. Let me use a currently sidelined player to make my point. How much growth, or even simple change, have we see in the game of Nikolay Davydenko over the years? How about, oh, Richard Gasquet? Okay, it's fair to ask, but how much real room is there for change or growth in the game of, say, a David Ferrer?
When I look at a Gael Monfils, I see a guy who could easily be heading down the beaten track - the trail followed by most tour players. Each of them has his basic game. He goes through the motions of practice and fitness training. He has good weeks, and not-so-good weeks. Sometimes he's really healthy, sometimes he's got niggling injuries. Oh, everyone wants to improve, vaguely. Everyone works on the shots that have been letting him down. But just doing due diligence, coming up with a plan for betterment, and making an all-or-nothing commitment to it is an enormous step that the majority of players are unwilling to take. Just look at how passively Roger Federer has reacted to his recent loss of status - his only justification, really, is that the matches with Rafael Nadal have been awful close. . . but what about Murray?
You know what? Most tennis players loathe change. Vince Spadea feels the same way about his own game as Federer does about his: If I execute well, do the things I need, feel fit, have a fresh mind, I'll be fine. Maybe I won't beat Federer, but I'll be okay. Well, that's theoretically true, but what about making something happen - what about transforming yourself and your game - the way Andre Agassi once did, the way Pat Rafter did, after idling away a few years in the lower ranks? Not everyone can do it. Some try it and fail - and I'm not knocking anyone who makes the effort.
But also remember that figuring out how to accomplish a transformation isn't very easy and, more important, it always implies risk. And tennis players fundamentally abhor risk; it's reflected in the way they play. Matches are lost on unforced errors and matches are won. . . on unforced errors. The bold winner is much admired, seldom practiced or trusted. And what if you make some changes in your game and they don't work out? Or what if you change but make no progress?
These "what ifs" loom enormous in a player's mind, the way they do in the mind of anyone contemplating change, especially with implied risk. And the suppress a player's ability to have a dynamic relationship with his craft. That's why so many players seem to be stuck on a treadmill, or content to fit into assigned places in the pecking order. It's what Pete Sampras always used to call "hiding" - you can hide from the call to be great, or even merely better, and live a good, smooth life, minimizing the heartache and risk, feasting on the rewards and joy that come your way simply because you have a great talent and take reasonable care of it.
All this begs the question: how many players actually have sufficiently obvious and clear shortcomings that can be shored up or even eliminated through later-life skills, like the application of intelligence, dedication and hard work? It's an intriguing question; one of the main reasons Roddick has improved so much is because there was so much room to improve.
Enjoy the tennis, everyone!