| Tuesday,
November 18, 2003 2003
Houston Masters
Cup - Wrap Up
The 34TH running of the Masters, a Texan last roundup of the elite eight of the men’s game, had three sub-plots called Roddick, Agassi and McIngvale, and a principal theme: the new champion named Federer. “Blinky,” the ATP computer residing at Ponte Vedra, Fla., will tell you that Andy Roddick is No. 1 for the year 2003. However, anybody in the week’s crowds amounting to 112,500 uproarious critics at the Westside Tennis Club knows that the best player these days is the “Basel Dazzle” -- Roger Federer. Roddick’s unique seven day odyssey ran like this: On Nov. 8 he was the glib, appealing star of “Saturday Night Live.” A week later he was Saturday afternoon dead, laid out on a mauve slab by Federer as embalmer. Though U.S. Open champ Andy may have lost his last match of a glittering year, he hadn’t lost his knack for a punch line: “Roger kicked my ass at Wimbledon, and he kicked my ass today. Pretty much the same.” The kicker of Andy’s bucket was the sweet-swinging Swiss, 7-6 (7-2), 6-2, in a semifinal. A day later Roger did the same to everybody’s favorite tennis playing geezer, Andre Agassi, 6-3, 6-0, 6-4, adding the Masters title to his Wimbledon laurels, and finishing the campaign as No. 2 in the hard-driven view of “Blinky.” Andre and Andy suffered similar fates, neither one able to beg, borrow or steal even a look at a break point from the overwhelming, Scroogely Federer. But the splendid tournament was a great success for Andre, nevertheless. A bust in the Masters a year ago at Shanghai, losing his first two round-robin matches to Jiri Novak and Juan Carlos Ferrero, then withdrawing, Andre sparkled this time after his 64-day paternity leave. “I didn’t know what to expect because I’d never taken that much time off while playing well,” said Andre, last seen losing a U.S. Open semi to Ferrero. He stepped aside to stay close-to-home as his wife, Steffi Graf, gave birth to their second child, daughter Jaz Elle, Oct. 3. “I stayed in great physical shape, but I wondered what the absence of match play would do to my game.” Yet in his opening round-robin Andre battled Federer to the last instant of overtime, missing out on 2 match points, losing, 6-7 (3-7), 6-3, 7-6 (9-7). He needed to win his remaining matches to earn a spot in the semis, and grittily held off a personal trouble-maker, Ferrero, 2-6, 6-3, 6-4 and the swift, sly German, Rainer Schuettler, 5-7, 6-0, 6-4. Andre, continuing vital, vigorous and mainly victorious at 33, winning three of his five starts, beamed, “This sends me into 2004 [and the defense of his Australian Open title] with a lot of confidence. Once Roger got going nobody was going to beat him here.” Indeed. Federer lost serve but thrice in 55 games, none of those few setbacks harmful as he won all five matches and left Houston with $ 1,520,000 in loot from the $ 4.45 million pot. Andre was the people’s choice, especially of the one person who made possible the Masters’ return to the United States after a 13 year absence: a remarkable local landmark known as “Mattress Mack.” That would be Jim McIngvale, the proprietor of Gallery Furniture, who has done so well and imaginatively in peddling mattresses and other household items that he could spend $ 27 million in building the intimate 7500 seat outdoor arena at his club, and $ 16 million luring the Masters to town for a run of two-years – and maybe more. I think he’s desirous of lifting the women’s version, the WTA Championships, from Los Angeles where it has flopped for two years, in order to stage a two-week co-ed extravaganza in his backyard. That would serve the game well, and call a lot more attention to both events that, sadly, were spectacularly ignored by the American press. I wouldn’t sell the mattress magnate short -- with his money, and organizational drive -- if he puts his mind to anything. Particularly if he wants to do it for the two loves expressed by himself and his industrious wife, Linda: “tennis and the great fans of Houston.” McIngvale’s justifiable admiration of Agassi – Andre the champion and the philanthropist – though understandable, did get somewhat out of hand. Cheering openly for Andre during the iniial clash with Federer, Mack forgot the sporting neutrality expected from him as host to the world. This disturbed three-quarters of the singles field: Spaniards Ferrero and Carlos Moya, Schluetter, Argentines David Nalbandian and Guillermo Coria, as well as Federer and numerous officials from abroad. In an unbalanced championship presentation ceremony, Mack, presiding, focused his plaudits on Andre, eventually getting around briefly to Federer. The promoter’s famous enthusiasm is refreshing. His many gifts to the game make him a valued figure on the landscape, for example as the reviver and impresario of the U.S. Clay Court Championships at Westside. Still, he needs to remember the international aspect of tennis, and I believe he will. Expressing his well-earned pride in the event, he declared, “We had 15 sold-out sessions. Three of them were for doubles alone. Can anybody else say that?” Few, if any. In fact the most exciting match may well have been the doubles final in which the exhuberant Bryan-ic Men – Davis Cup twins Mike and Bob Bryan – brilliantly outdueled their French counterparts, Michael Llodra and clever little Fabrice Santoro, 6-7 (6-8), 6-3, 3-6, 7-6 (7-3), 6-4. This screamer concluded with lefty Bob digging out of 0-30 by banging three aces to certify the brothers as the world’s No. 1 combo. Doubles, too often distressingly neglected, got its well-appreciated due in Houston. Not since 1974, on the grass of Melbourne’s Kooyong Stadium, had the Masters been held outdoors. This was only the second time, and I felt it was about time. Since the four majors – Australian, French, Wimbledon, U.S. – are played in fresh air, why should the championship of champions be a hot house affair? From 1977 through 1989, the home of the Masters was New York’s Madison Square Garden. Then it moved to Germany for a decade, Frankfort, 1990 – 95 then Hannover. After that, Lisbon in 2000, Sydney in 2001 and Shanghai last year were all fine sites, but I prefer the great outdoors. Many fans asked. “Where’s Lleyton Hewitt?” the fractious champ the last two years. He’s a mystery, tailspinning to No. 16, thus ineligible for the Masters. Only 22, seemingly distracted by his foolish law suit against the ATP, and dumping his fine coach, Jason Stoltenberg, he ought to be able to pull himself together. Extremely patriotic, Lleyton may be re-juiced by upholding Australia in the Davis Cup final against Spain in Melbourne Nov. 28 – 30. Beaten by Hewitt in the 2002 semis, Federer, so graceful as he glides and guns, says his Wimbledon triumph “built up my confidence. Winning that first major really does something for you. I was really pleased that of my seven titles I won this year were spread on all four surfaces. Grass, clay, hard, indoor.” Shortly, at “Mattress Mack’s” decree, the asphalt flooring of this Masters will be torn up, to be replaced by crimson dirt for the U.S. Clay in April. What is Mack’s favorite surface? “Simmons Beautyrest,” he responds fast. Maybe he should send one as a mement to Federer, under which Roger could stuff all that money he lugged out of Mattressville. <<<Back |