SULLIVAN: Women’s tennis rules. The game the gals play is far superior and a much more compelling sporting event than the prototype cyborg men that now lead men’s tennis. The women have the men beat hands down. They volley, they charge the net and they play all out. They play actual tennis. Women rule!
The U.S. Open comes to Flushing Monday, August 28th and it will be the first time that women will have created excitement in that part of Queens in quite awhile. The Mets have been the story out there all summer and the only women causing heads to turn in Flushing are the local hotties.
I’d love to see Kim Clijsters and our Mary Pierce go at it again in the women’s final. The volleying and the strategies used by the women in tennis is a joy to watch. However, this year, Amelie Mauresmo and the Russian beauty, Maria Sharpova, may rule the tournament. The 1999-2002 dynasty of Serena and Venus Williams would be cool to see again, but the sisters have lost a step and are not as hungry as they once were.
The USA Network will show all the matches, but the upper deck for most matches is $22, which is a fair bargain in the sports world. The only reason to even see the men play this year is that it will be Andre Agassi’s last U.S. Open. Last year he took it all the way to the final only to get beat by Roger Federer.
Federer may be the best tennis player to ever grace a court (technically), but he has no juice. The man makes Pete Sampras look like Dennis Rodman. Federer is not human. He drinks oil for lunch. Watching him play is like watching a pitching machine: Effective, but boring.
The only hope for the men to bring any fun to the U.S Open is if Agassi can catch some old lighting and the other Yank, James Blake, takes it to the damn foreign computers that now rule the game.
HOLLANDER: Have you watched tennis at all this year? Dude, you’re working off some five-years-ago perception of men’s/women’s professional tennis.
The Williams sisters have practically become part-time tennis players who have gone from playing in only majors to grand slams, and that’s if they’re healthy and typically only if they don’t have to face each other. Sharapova—the, er, as you put it “Russian beauty” (solid technical assessment there pal)—has won no significant tournaments in 2006, earned solid money in 2005, but rides off the fame of her 2004 Wimbledon title; the only grand slam she ever won was over two years ago. The Martina Hingis comeback would be better if she returned to her trademark cattiness. But gone are the days when Lindsay Davenport couldn’t deal with the Williams sisters and Richard Williams would taunt Hingis’ mother. Sadly, the likable Clijsters will be unable to defend her U.S. Open title due to injury. That leaves us with that mousey, conniving, expressionless Justine Hennin-Hardenne, who will stall, cheat and fake injury—do just about anything to infuriate her more honorable opponents.
And then there’s all that grunting. Will someone please do something about that! Why must every volley in a women’s match sound like scenes from an obstetrics ward. There’s no need for each Sharapova forehand to sound like she’s simultaneously going into labor and pushing out a stiff bowel movement. It’s distracting. It’s off-putting. Most of all, it makes women’s tennis uncomfortable for children.
But just in case you haven’t noticed, the Rafael Nadal/Roger Federer rivalry has emerged as one of the most compelling in all of sports. You do know that they have met in the last two consecutive Grand Slams, don’t you? Between them, they’ve won the last six Grand Slam titles (since Roland Garros in ’05). And despite Federer’s total dominance over his peers, he has yet to beat Nadal on clay. Now Nadal stalks him at every turn-a-ment. You think that’s boring? Do you think James Blake’s return to the ATP top 10 from a broken neck and paralyzing disease called Zoster is boring too? What about Andy Roddick trying to regain his shattered mojo by enlisting Jimmy Connors as his private coach? And then there’s Agassi. The rebel turned Yoda retires after leading us into this new era of power tennis bows out gracefully, this his last tournament ever.
I know the men’s game has become a little fast for you but I think if you concentrate a little more on the tennis and a little less on Serena William’s pulchritudinous developments, you will see that the 2006 U.S Open is all about the fellas.
SULLIVAN: Where do I begin? First off, the grunting in women’s tennis is hot. I love Sharapova’s grunts. It is like she is doing it—hard—to her opponent.
My argument is sound. Each year, including this one, the women are gaining in popularity with the men. Women’s tennis does not need Venus and Serena to be exciting. That whole Richard Williams fiasco a few years back was such a bore. He was the jackass father that ruined sports for kids. I am glad his progeny sent him back from whence he came. I hear he is back in Watts selling water bottles on the side of the road.
Yes Nadale and Federer have a rivalry. I’ll give you that. But they have become so good that their matches are hard to watch. The ball moves like it is shot from a gun. Maybe my eyes are too slow, but they both play like their rackets have gun powder on them. I would make the men go back to the old school tennis rackets. Then maybe we would see another five-hour McEnroe-Borg war like we once had.
As for Andy Roddick’s comeback under Jimmy Connor’s tutelage, there is a big problem. My sources inform me that they allegedly have been spotted at Marty O’Brien’s Pub on 88th and Second Avenue drinking up a storm with the Irish actor Colin Farrell—who has also fallen hard off the wagon.
I’ll watch the women. You watch the men. Not only will I see better tennis, I will also enjoy the sights.
HOLLANDER: Jeezuz, C.J. Grab hold of yourself. Well, maybe that’s a bad choice of words because it sounds like you’re tuning into these matches flanked by your dog-eared copies of Oui Magazine and a jar of Crisco. This is tennis, man! It’s the bloody U.S Open. Do your sweaty gawking outside the women’s dressing room at Paragon Sports. Out at Arthur Ash stadium, some of us are interested in the competition, the strategy, the athleticism – the sport of it all.
Maybe you were unable to stay up to 1:15 a.m. last year to watch Andre Agassi defeat James Blake in the U.S. Open quarterfinals in a five-set tiebreaker after losing the first two sets. It’s considered one of the greatest matches in U.S. Open history. I won’t even mention his five-set victory over Robbie Ginperi the next day—Agassi’s third consecutive five-set match in that tournament—putting him against Federer in the finals, to whom
he valiantly succumbed. Clearly, you’re not interested in seeing that kind of heart displayed yet again by a man who not only is playing the final tournament in a legendary and brilliantly original career, but a man who has enjoyed advanced carnal knowledge of both Brooke Shields and women’s tennis royalty Steffi Graf.
Sure, I’d love to see another Federer-Nadal clash of titans. And what a clash: Nadal, a young evolving Spaniard whose awesome physicality we have never seen on a tennis player (Martina Navritalova notwithstanding) versus Federer, a dignified Swiss maestro whose masterful repertoire of spins, slices and power strokes make him a veritable consensus choice for most versatile tennis player ever and, if he continues his success, the greatest player of all time. When these two get together it’s a tennis fans’ delight.
However, the 2006 U.S. Open belongs to Andre Agassi. He gave as much as he got from this game. It will never be the same after him. I wish him a long goodbye in September.
