In Defence of Roddick

In the waning hours of July 4^th weekend, amidst some ancillary sports news that briefly commanded my attention – the Yankees continuing their roll against the Blue Jays (and I would appreciate it if a credentialed ornithologist would set the record straight for me about whether those oddly aggressive birds favor nectar north or south of the Canadian border), and the tragic death of great NFL QB Steve McNair, one story stood out in stark relief in my mind.

No, it wasn’t Roger Federer winning his record-setting 15^th major title at Wimbledon, his sixth in seven years, though that’s a great story. I do love the Rog. As a fan of tennis, I marvel at, and take a fan’s pride in, the Rog’s incredible ability.

Simply put, though, American Andy Roddick’s play inspired me. He was not perfect, as Federer has occasionally, and at times rightly, been accused of being. Hogwash. Roddick was not Nadalish – which is to say he did not possess a tennis amalgam of Kobe Bryant and an extremely motivated and possibly rabid border collie. Again, reader, allow me to introduce you to Today. I feel you two will get along famously.

No, Roddick’s Sunday at Wimbledon was start-to-finish a simple case of a guy going out and getting it done playing beautiful tennis. What I loved – loved – was how amazingly composed he was throughout the match. What it made me think, and I’m just some Yank watching the thing on TV from 5,000 miles away – was that my guy, the American – a guy who I’ve seen wilt on the big stage before, pressed the sublime Swiss to the very limit of anything I’ve seen on a tennis court. It made me feel proud. And nervous. That fifth set went longer than a Yankees-Sox game with no Buckie Dent or Aaron Boone on the bench. And yes, I do acknowledge the fact that these guys are more-or-less freaks. They are loveable freaks. They can power a tennis ball to ridiculous velocities with freakish precision.

On Sunday, June 5, 2009, Andy Roddick assaulted Roger Federer with a combination of 130+ mph serves, go-for-broke-ground strokes, and calculated net play that was effective. I’ll go on record saying he should have gone to the net more. Roddick played brilliantly, beautifully.

Federer won the match. It was 16-14 in the final set. Frankly, I’ve never seen anyone serve better than Federer with so much on the line. But for me, the story was Roddick playing the match of his life. Roddick played by far the best tennis that he has ever has played. I don’t think I need to have observed him as like a junior player or teenaged amateur to know that for a fact. I’ve seen Roddick plenty, in big matches with stuff on the line. Singles tennis, being basically a battle between two determined opponents, can’t always be evaluated according to ranking and prize money. Skill and pride is another story.

On numerous occasions playing Federer, Roddick had failed. He had lost 18 out of 20 matches to Federer going into Sunday’s Wimbledon final. But Roddick won the first set, and had a great opportunity to take the second in a tie-break with Federer down 6-2. The Rog battled back, relying on a serve that, given its smooth, unassuming delivery, doesn’t attract nearly enough attention. Federer ended the match with more than fifty aces. His serve was unequivocally the difference. Roddick, despite breaking him in each of the first two sets, could simply not get the best of Roger’s serve down the stretch.

The greatest players in the game’s history were spectators: Bjorn Borg, Rod Laver, and the man whose record Federer was looking to surpass for major titles in a career – Pete Sampras. Sampras was non-committal at the post-match press conference. But one had to guess that his reluctance to pronounce Federer the greatest of all time was to some degree a function of having witnessed his countryman, Andy Roddick, push Federer to the limit. Roddick was brilliant. As with no other match in his career, with the knowledge, of course, that he was facing the world’s best – maybe the best ever – he went for winners, and his balls were consistently true. But Federer is a savant, and held serve like a dynastic Ottoman Janissary holding a scepter in one hand, and a razor-sharp sword in the other. He could not be bested.

In the end it was the amazing and surprising pluck and execution of Andy Roddick that made this match. It was a battle of a good and dedicated player, one who has worked extremely hard on his game in the past 12 months, versus the world’s best, a cold-eyed assassin, in an instant classic. I have never seen Roddick perform like he did Sunday, providing the true grit that comprised the backbone of what could be called the greatest match ever played at the All-England Tennis and Croquet Club. Going forward, this match could be the foundation stone for a Yankee run at the U.S. Open Championship, and bragging rights that a lot of lusty American tennis fans crave. The man from Austin looked lithe, powerful, and at times he did something I’ve seen few tennis players do: He ran a personal favorite, Rogeay Fedray, all around the court.