An embrace of more than the ace
Couple of years ago, when Milos Raonic had the cheek, the gall, to beat Roger Federer in the Wimbledon final four, thereby denying tennis snobs a final with Andy Murray, the British media lost its nut.
How dare he! Unworthy! Robotic! Crude tennis!
Meaning, of course, a barrage of bazooka aces was the ugly antithesis to how the sport, in its finery, should be played by gentlemen, especially at the toffee-nosed All-England Club. They gave poor Milos a bollocking. Whilst rather enjoying the press corps’ erudite disdain — nobody brings high dudgeon better, in words, than Brits — I felt compelled to defend a Canadian compatriot.
In fact, Raonic is no one-trick pony anymore. Since his one-season tutelage under John McEnroe, in particular, the Thornhill-raised 27-year-old has become much more of an all-court player, less a baseline counter-puncher, with a strong inside-out forehand, although he’ll never be foot-agile.
Raonic was ousted from the Rogers Cup in the second round, crestfallen by the early elimination.
But we’re still stuck with Kevin Anderson, no offence and all.
So here I go, pulling a pseudo-Blighty by smacking around the South African.
But lordy-lordy, he is a yawn to watch, eye-glazing metronome with a racquet.
Clearly, much of the ticket-buying public feels the same way. The Aviva Centre was less that half-full for the early-afternoon Friday quarterfinal match between Anderson and Grigor Dimitrov, the Bulgarian he dispatched swiftly in straight sets — one hour and six minutes, the shortest match of the tournament.
I don’t begrudge any athlete his or her success.
And Anderson, at the fairly advanced tennis age of 32, has had a belated breakout year, rising to No. 5 in the world — the first top-five South African since Kevin Curren in 1985 — and making Grand Slam finals.
However, those majors – the U.S. Open versus Rafael Nadal last summer, Wimbledon versus Novak Djokovic this year — were both straight-set defeats and sadly unengaging.
And, really, fans should have been rewarded with a departing gift at the merciful conclusion of the 2018 Wimbledon semi, the second longest majors match in history, Anderson finally setting aside American John Isner in a six-hour and 36-minute five-setter.
At SW19 two months ago, it was Anderson who drew the grumbles, tripping up Federer in the quarters.
The Swiss maestro blew a third-set match point and Anderson tick-tock fought back to seize the match, knocking off the No. 1 seed. That didn’t gain him any new fans outside of South Africa, although Anderson has lived in Florida for a long time and spent three years attending U.S. college.
One can’t flog the Johannesburg native for what he is, mostly a one-dimensional serving virtuoso who regularly hits the 135-mph mark. Certainly he’s a dogged pro who trains tirelessly — not so easy when you’re six-foot-eight – overcoming a slew of career injuries (left knee, right shoulder, hip, left thigh, both ankles) whilst racking up four ATP Tour titles and 13 runner-up finishes. But. But. But. Wearying to behold. The mind wanders. The head doesn’t pivot left and right.
Now, Dimitrov is no serve shrinking lily. He can pound. Head to head, these men had played eight previous tiebreaks and countless 7-5s.
They didn’t get anywhere near to that blistering stasis on this occasion, however, as Anderson, currently sixth in the world and the fourth seed here, set Dimitrov aside easily 6-2, 6-2.
A reversal of their last quarters in Toronto, 2014, when Dimitrov saved two match points to beat Anderson.
“It was a heartbreaker,” Anderson recalled, “losing six in the third after having match point, serving for it. So I was definitely motivated to go out there and try and get the better of him.”
Dimitrov actually came into the encounter with a 6-1 dominance. Maybe he was tired on the heels of two three-setters this week, each ending in a tiebreak. “If I say no, it would probably be a lie, but I don’t like excuses like that,” he said.
He offered little resistance to the relentless Anderson. “There’s not much to say. I mean, he just came out and played his game and everything was going his way. He served well, he did everything well. Just simple as that.”
And it is, by signature, a simple-minded game Anderson brings to the court. Bitch of a thing, trying to break his rhythm, when he’s in the zone — a dozen aces. Dimitrov didn’t get a sniff at a break point.
“There’s not much you can do,” he acknowledged. “You can try to guess which spot he’s going serve, but still I think (this) court suits him a lot. It’s a very high bounce. He can even serve a second serve — 180, 185, anywhere. That itself is plenty, let alone if you start hitting your spots.
“So, I tried everything. I tried to stay back, tried to chip, tried all the things that I could possibly think of. But it just wasn’t enough.”
Dimitrov moves on to the Western and Southern Open in Cincinnati next week, where he’s the defending champion.
“I didn’t have to face any break points so that’s always a positive,” Anderson noted. “Today was a day that definitely … came off the racquet nicely.”
Snoozy, but gotta give chops to a guy who took 11 runs at a Masters 1000 before making any quarterfinal.
“I’ve gained more belief and trust in my game,” Anderson said. “I’m actually seeing the tangible results as opposed to maybe some guys who haven’t achieved it before and then have suddenly done it and found a way.”
He is scaling up the ladder, belatedly.
“I’ve been able to climb a few more rungs of the ladder, instead of taking one step at a time.”
Absobloodylutely, as they say.