THE NEXT POINT ANNUAL 2012 JESSE PENTECOST Table of Contents Introduction................................................................................................... 2 The Australian Summer ............................................................................ 5 The Golden Swing and the US Spring (Part One) .......................... 58 Davis Cup First Round ............................................................................. 64 The Golden Swing and the US Spring (Part Two) .......................... 69 Davis Cup Quarterfinals ........................................................................ 130 The Clay Season ...................................................................................... 139 The Grass Season ................................................................................... 232 Interlude ..................................................................................................... 270 The Olympic Games ................................................................................. 21 The US Summer ...................................................................................... 301 Davis Cup Semifinals ............................................................................. 348 The Asian Swing ...................................................................................... 352 The European Indoors ........................................................................... 368 Davis Cup Final ........................................................................................ 404 Conclusion.................................................................................................. 410 Appendix A: Retiring Players ............................................................... 435 Appendix B: Great Matches ................................................................. 444 Copyright © Jesse Pentecost 2013 www.thenextpoint.com Cover photo copyright: Mike Hewitt / Getty Images Europe 1 Introduction The most pressing question as the 2012 men’s tennis season commenced – and this was broadly the case wherever one’s sympathies were directed – was whether Novak Djokovic could possibly fashion a year worthy of his 2011. (The subsidiary issue of whether this question was itself worthwhile was largely ignored.) Common sense held that he probably couldn’t; seasons such as that are hard enough to put together once, let alone twice and consecutively. On the other hand, such had been the completeness of Djokovic’s dominance that common sense came to sound like stodgy caution. If it was hard to imagine that he could sustain his majestic level, then it was almost as hard to believe he wouldn’t. As it happened, Djokovic finished as world number one for the second straight year, but as recently as the second last week of the season he was ranked at number two. His inhuman 2011 gave way to an entirely human 2012. But, given permissive circumstances, humanity permits us our heroism, should we rise to it. Djokovic’s heroic year was at once less impressive, and more. It was more impressive because he just narrowly overcame a group of peers nearer the peak of their powers. Roger Federer proved that even the sport’s most comprehensive resume can be rendered more complete, as he equalled Pete Sampras’ record of seven Wimbledon titles, surpassed the American’s record for total weeks at number one, and claimed a seventeenth Major. He also established himself as the world’s foremost exponent on blue clay. As I write this introduction, in the closing days of 2012, the news has come down that Rafael Nadal has withdrawn from the 2013 Australian Open, thereby establishing the worst kind of continuity. He missed far too much of 2012 – everything after Wimbledon – through injury. The six months when Nadal was still active threaten to recede into memory, but it would be a poor summary that failed to acknowledge his dominance on clay, for the way he solved the problem of Djokovic, if indeed it needed solving, and the manner in which he won his record seventh Roland Garros. His season deserves to be remembered for more than that unprecedented upset to Lukas Rosol at Wimbledon. 2012 was, of course, an Olympic year, and the extent to which this marred or enhanced the broader season is a matter for debate. Unquestionably it shaped it. I doubt whether Andy Murray’s fans could find fault with the scheduling, especially after he won the gold medal, and for the way it permitted the Scot a measure of redemption so soon after The Championships. The full measure arrived at the US Open, where he became the first British man to win a Major since Fred Perry. He is now the first British man at risk of 2 becoming a ‘one-Slam wonder’, since this depressing epithet is a wholly modern coinage. Not even Tim Henman was so bruised and abraded by the adoration of his compatriots. If I was inclined to rank such things – and the endless popularity of list-based web content proves that to do otherwise is to be wilfully old-fashioned – then it would be tough to decide which player truly constituted the story of the year. Quaintly, if not self- defeatingly, I’m determined to avoid such contrivances, and am therefore under no obligation to measure Brian Baker’s unlikely comeback against that of Tommy Haas. Both things happened, and there was always room enough to acknowledge each without deciding which was better. (It also meant I felt no compulsion to enter the fatuous debate around who was ‘really’ the ATP’s player of the year.) Consequently, there’s plenty in the following pages about the players nearer the fringes, even if I rarely venture as far out onto the fringe as some believe I should. There have always been those who vehemently eschew the main story in order to focus on the margins, who visit The Louvre and poke around the basement feeling superior to the crowds thronging the first floor to see the lady smile. There’s nothing at all wrong with that – the whole place is replete with treasures – except when they grow prescriptive about what everyone else should be looking at. Sometimes the façade of superiority collapses into a sneer. As a rule I have no time for fans whose interest in the sport ends with a particular player, but allowances should always be made for those whose interest starts with one. A love for the game has to begin somewhere, and there are worse ways to be drawn in than by admiring thoughtful young men at their best. Although I don’t wish to measure them against each other, I still maintain a mental list of the moments and stories that delight me most. Baker’s comeback was indeed inspirational, and by nature I believe I’m a hard man to inspire, especially when Americans insist I should be. Radek Stepanek is another superb story, his season beginning with an audacious doubles title at the Australian Open, and ending with Davis Cup glory. Frederik Nielson and Jonathan Marray’s doubles title at Wimbledon was equally memorable, especially since they achieved the impossible the hard way. The resurgence of Haas was indeed a favourite, because the German has been a favourite of mine for over a decade. His title in Halle was a highlight. Philipp Kohlschreiber’s Munich title was a highlight as well, especially watching his reserve crack momentarily as he gouged out part of the centre court in his prize BMW. Jerzy Janowicz and David Ferrer desperately resuscitated a Paris Indoors that the ATP had done its best to choke the life out of. David Nalbandian proved equally merciless in dealing with a linesman at Queens. At various points throughout the year Japan hosted individual acts of greatness, from the Davis Cup heroics of Ivo Karlovic or Amir Weintraub, to Kei Nishikori’s stirring title run in 3 Tokyo. David Goffin ended Arnaud Clement’s career, then almost earned the eternal enmity of his fellow Federer fans by threatening an upset at the French Open. In addition to Clement, the men’s tour also bid farewell to Rainer Schuettler, Juan Carlos Ferrero, Andy Roddick and Fernando Gonzalez (my valedictories for these last three, such as they are, can be found in an appendix to this Annual). I’m probably forgetting others. The so-called New Balls generation is starting to look decidedly thin. Of the twelve men pictured on my official 2002 New Balls Please calendar, only Federer, Hewitt and Haas remain in frame. 2012 was also the year when their latest batch of successors – the Newest Balls – was scheduled finally to break through, but mostly didn’t. It’s time for another calendar, at least. As was the case last year, the included pieces have mostly been left untouched, besides the odd touch-up to improve (or even achieve) readability. I’ve resisted the urge to make myself seem prescient by tweaking the few predictions I actually attempted. The aim isn’t to look infallible, and getting it very wrong is part of the fun. This volume is considerably longer than the previous one, even though it includes fewer actual articles. The reason, obviously, is that the articles are generally longer. I’m not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing. They certainly take me longer to write. I can always stave off the fear that I’ve merely grown long-winded by telling myself that I’ve got a lot to say. The number of paragraphs I’ve culled from each finished piece suggests this might even be true. Indeed, I suspect this paragraph could go. As ever, the moment a writer starts to talk about how long they’ve gone on for is a useful indication that it’s time to stop. Jesse Pentecost Melbourne, 2012