LONDON?Qualifying is the best gig known to tennis fans. While the clay season reaches its triumphant climax at Roland Garros, grass-court tennis is already underway at The Queen?s Club in west London. Even as the signage for arguably the most prestigious ATP 250 tournament in the world is still being assembled, fans and casual gawkers can watch the 32-man qualifying draw break in the pristine grass courts for free. In addition, you can watch the main-draw players arriving and practicing; Nadal may still be in Paris, but if you want to watch David Nalbandian banter with Andy Roddick, Juan Martin del Potro work on his slice or a grinning Ernests Gulbis receive a scolding for carelessly throwing his hat on the ground, it?s the only place to be. With no ushers controlling access to the courts, spectators police themselves and by and large politely wait for the appropriate moments at changeovers to enter or leave the courts, in a way that makes you proud to be British. It?s a great day in the sun.
For tennis players, however, qualifying might be the one of the harshest and most demanding challenges they ever face. Everyone is desperate to make their trip worthwhile and seize the points and prize money that comes from working their way into the main draw. What makes it even tougher here is that the first two rounds of qualifying are both played on Saturday. Wanting to follow a player through the day and see what it?s like having to compete back-to-back, I arbitrarily pick fifth seed Tim Smyczek, mainly on the basis that I?ve heard of his name. Smyczek, ranked No. 169, is the man who beat Donald Young for the USTA?s French Open wildcard. Rather neglected in the furor that followed, Smyczek lost to eventual quarterfinalist Juan Ignacio Chela in the first round at Roland Garros. He?s playing today against compatriot Alex Kuznetsov out on Court 11. There?s no stands, no seats and no scoreboard, and I?m the only person watching, apart from Kuznetsov?s coach. Other qualifying matches are being played on either side of the court, separated only by a narrow alley and waist-high fence, and I know I?m not getting out of here without getting hit by one of the stray balls that periodically fly from one match to another. Flanked by two rows of Georgian terraced houses, with the prototypical London landmarks of a church spire and a crane visible beyond the trees, it?s a peaceful setting, the silence broken only by a gentle breeze, the thwack of balls and the sound of Bobby Reynolds shouting at the umpire.
It seems like such hard work. At least with a respectable crowd, there would be the sense of a stage set for a performance, an occasion for the players to rise to. As it is, it?s up to each man to generate energy and focus from within. Kuznetsov, who wins the first set in a tiebreaker, at least has his coach to encourage him; Smyczek has to do this all himself. When Smyczek digs in and breaks serve in the second set with the aid of a pinpoint-accurate lob, he clenches his fist; he repeats the gesture when he serves out the set, but has no one to make eye contact with, no one to bolster his belief.
Watching him, I can see why I know Smyczek?s name. He?s relatively small and not thoroughly muscled in the way of, say, a David Ferrer, but he works it to his advantage by really getting low to the ball and finding great depth on his shots. He?s capable of improvising, too, not afraid to come to the net. Kuznetsov, who was the next big thing in American tennis several ?next big thing?s? ago, rapidly crumbles despite his coach?s encouragement. Down 0-3 in the third set, he congratulates Smyczek on a good shot as they pass at the net, mentally if not physically retiring from the match. It?s in stark contrast to the next court over, where Bobby Reynolds?having already had loud and mildly obscene words with the umpire, a linesperson, and the grass, which is apparently too slippery?is announcing to the entire complex that he is ?shanking every [expletive deleted] ball halfway between the baseline and the service line.? Not to be outdone, his opponent Greg Jones counters by informing the world that he is ?always one step behind.? Qualifiers: they even have to do their own commentary.
Smyczek?s victory, 6-1 in the third, is greeted with absolutely no applause apart from that politely given by the ball girls. He doesn?t fare much better on the crowd support front in his second-round match, which begins maybe two hours after he leaves Court 11, against Alex Bogdanovic, the world No. 372?which makes him the British No. 7.
Qualifying tends to be populated by might-have-beens, and Bogdanovic is probably the ultimate example; his name is almost a byword for inflated expectations ending in disappointment. He still rates Court 1, though, and a healthy crowd are there to support him, but it offers no encouragement for Smyczek, whose winners are mainly greeted by silence. Flanked at one end by the rising blue plastic stands of Centre Court and on the other by a huge sign giving a roster of champions?Roddick, Sampras, Becker, Edberg, McEnroe?it?s not a friendly place for the American. Once again he has to draw exclusively from his own resources to find the energy and focus to compete.
Bogdanovic may be best known in my eyes for choking in big matches, but there?s nothing really wrong with his tennis, and his grass-court game is on another level to Smyczek?s. The American simply isn?t getting his feet in the right place, waiting for the ball to come to him with a true, high bounce and then having to scramble forward and hit off-balance as it skids off the grass. It?s even slightly comic at times, when he ends up returning serve with his torso bent one way and his legs flying in the other. He?s brave in attempting to come to net, but Bogdanovic consistently punishes him by landing the ball neatly on his toes. The transition from clay to grass, from long, improvisational exchanges to incisive, blink-and-you?ll-miss-it points, is jarring enough as a spectator; after most points, Smyczek is left blinking, as if he was just winding up to get into the rally and found it already over.
It?s one-way traffic, and although Smyczek hangs in there, he finds himself down a set, a double break and struggling to hold serve at 2-4. After he serves a double fault, he knocks the ball into the with a long, lazy drop-shot, for the first time guilty of seeming to perform his reactions, shrouding himself in irony rather than putting his desire to win this match that he?s losing right out there on the line. After he is broken in the same game, he flings his racquet down on the grass; even that doesn?t draw a reaction from the silent spectators.
It?s odd how quickly you can become attached to a player. I?m already mentally referring to him as ?Smee??like the pirate?and finding it endearing how his hair sticks up when he takes his cap off. It seems so unfair that he should have to leave with nothing after playing two matches in one day. But like any line of work, you take the rough with the smooth, balance the compensation with the sacrifices. I?m the last person to take a negative view of what Smyczek or any unsuccessful qualifier does. This tournament, smuggled away in the hinterlands beyond Earl?s Court, has the best grass courts in the world and a tradition of excellence that goes back more than a century. If Paris is worth a mass, qualifying at Queens is worth two matches in one day and more. I didn?t speak to him, but having watched him compete, dig his heels in and fight even in a lost cause, I?m sure Smyczek wouldn?t regret it. And I?m not sorry that I watched.
Source: http://feeds.tennis.com/~r/tenniscom-features/~3/ck4kgw2bhhw/
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