Sanity Retrieved

When he walked into the press interview room, wearing a white t-shirt under his white hoodie sweatshirt, it was like the voice of sanity returning to this Wimbledon, where the daily rain and delays it caused had many of us - players included - Google-eyed from too much screen time, speed-rapping from too much coffee, bouncing off walls and gnawing on the legs of the furniture.

Then Roger Federer strolled back into our lives, with his pleasant fox-like face, vanilla garb, and utterly reasonable and decidedly presidential manner. He had just crushed Juan Carlos Ferrero with just one glitch (he lost the second of four sets, but followed up with two of the fastest and most impressive sets played here yet); nothing to soil a record that has been as immaculate here in recent years as his hoodie.

So what has The Mighty Fed been up too? The usual: "I went to the city once or twice. Went to the hairdresser (perhaps to straighten out the curls the humidity put in is locks). Watched movies. Played cards. Hanged out (sic)."

That confusion of tenses may have been TMF's most noteworthy unforced error these past two weeks.

Those of you who remember my recent post, What Happens in Beverly Hills. . . will appreciate this moment in the presser. Harvey Araton, the New York Times columnist, asked TMF about the remarks Pete Sampras has been making about the lack of attacking tennis on grass these days. TMF, who conducts a presser with as much gravitas as a Eurocrat, replied: "I didn't read it, so I don't know. We have to have more time to talk about it then, some other day."

One of the more common expressions in American, er, gringo sports, is: *He took the game to his opponent.*It's a useful idea - this notion that you can - and ideally do - call upon the most basic instinct that underlies competition of any kind: aggression. In tennis, that aggression manifests itself in the willingness to force the action, and on a surface like grass that means attacking the net. But why take my word for it? Let's as an expert: When Venus Williams was asked about the "intimidation" factor after she pounded Ana Ivanovic in one of today's women's semifinals, she had an illuminating answer:
**

Oh, you may scoff at that - Yeah, but that's women's tennis. . . Personally, I don't see a great difference in the most critical core of this argument.

Another good way to get a handle on this is to contemplate the quarterfinal played today between Novak Djokovic and Marcos Baghdatis. Once again, Djokovic pulled through with his talent for winning tiebreakers and playing the big points well. In fact, Djokovic's last two opponents (Baghdatis and Lleyton Hewitt), provided outstanding examples of exactly why guys like Rafael Nadal and TMF take such good care of their games, week-after-week, month-after-month, year-after-year.

Yesterday, the Djoker and Hewitt put on an appealing exhibition of baseline tennis, and when it came to crunch time, Hewitt vividly demonstrated that he is a player struggling with confidence. He simply missed balls he wouldn't have flubbed had it been  2-1 in the second set. That almost embarrassingly simple truth was the tale of the match.

Likewise, in the penultimate game today, deep into the fourth hour of the match, Baghdatis found himself serving to stay even at 5-5. At 0-30, he approached the net and hit a godawful cross between a drop-shot and distracted swipe to go down 0-40 - with Djokovic peforming a split, totally out of positon, on his own baseline. It was all the daylight Djokovic needed; he broke with a crsip backhand service-return winner and that, effectively, ended it.

Baghdatis didn't really lose this match today; he lost it at Christmas, or whenever it was when he slacked off on the training, forgot to do his due diligence, chose to rest instead of work with the new year onrushing. Perhaps he lost it when he wandered off the brightly lit trail he had followed in 2006, and suddenly found himself in the dark wood, wondering how on earth he could have gotten so turned around on such familiar territory as a tennis court. This kind of thing happens all the time, and players simply have to fight their way back onto the illuminated path, and more often than not, they do.

But Djokovic's failure to capitalize on his opportunities was disturbing. He was relaxed, and that spoke well for his nerve and confidence.  He was in full command of his game and, more importantly, the situation. But perhaps he was too relaxed. He admitted in his presser that he let up a little bit on Baghdatis's service games, marshalling his strength and resources for the competitive witching hour. Perhaps he sensed that his prey on these successive days, already wounded, would tremble - as they did - in the dusk. But this was, in the end, toying: playing with his food.

Ultimately, when The Djoker needed a big point, he dug one out. But by engaging in an entertaining game of Anything You can Do, I Can Do Better, he also dug himself in - into a pretty big hole. He will be going into tomorrow's semifinal against Rafael Nadal with very close to 10 full hours of high-level, grass court tennis under his belt in the past 48 hours. It was great theater, poor planning. courageous and manly action, but curiously coy and nearly bordering on vain - from a competitive if not personal standpoint.

My gut feeling is the Djokovic is going to pay, and heavily, for not engaging his last two opponents in a more ruthless, focused manner. If he upends, Nadal, I be happy to think re-think my position.  Y'all know how much I like this kid. And that's the rub: Djokovic is young, and youth is impetuous - and profligate.

P.S. - Bartoli later. . .