Sunday, July 06, 2003 Wimbledon 2003 Fortunately for that old Greek travelin' man, Odysseus, he was barely able to avoid the clutches of Scylla, the man-eating monster, and Charybdis, the deadly whirlpool. But in making his odyssey through the perils of Wimbledon the young Greek travelin' man, Mark Philippoussis, discovered, to his distress, that those ancient hazards had a present-day counterpart named Roger Federer. Scylla and Charybdis, according to the venerable scribbler Homer, lurked in the Mediterranean. Federer came out of Basel, Switzerland, to sink the teeth of his man-beating (cq) serve into Philippoussis. and kept Mark whirling haplessly yesterday for nearly two hours in a green expanse called Centre Court. Odysseus traveled by boat. Philippoussis, a 26-year-old citizen of Australia domiciled on the beach in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, Calif., prefers a surf board. Maybe he should have brought one along because Federer came at him in shotmaking waves that would have swamped anybody trying to eliminate him - including Scylla. When it was over, this Basel-dazzle guy had become the lone Swiss Wimbledon champion, and his country's greatest sharpshooter since William Tell. Federer's accuracy was such in the 7-6 (7-5), 6-2, 7-6 (7-3), triumph that he could have knocked an apple off Philippoussis's lofty head by serving a tennis ball rather than using a bow and arrow. But a Wimbledon that had begun so uproariously as a stranger out of the qualifying thicket, No. 203 Ivo Karlovic, banished the defending champ, Lleyton Hewitt, climaxed spectacularly with Granny's grandiose and excellent adventure. Unbelievable and improbable as it may seem, Martina (Granny) Navratilova, a 16-year-old rookie at the Big W 30 years ago was in at the finish. Yoked to the irrepressible Indian, Leander Paes, she seized the mixed doubles championship, 6-3, 6-3, over the Russian-Israeli coalition of Anastassia Rodionova and Andy Ram. "You're in as good shape now as you were then," gushed a TV interviewer. But the sinewy perennial, becoming Wimbledon's elder champ, corrected that: "I'm in better shape. I was 20 pounds overweight in '73." Twenty-four years back she aided and abetted Billie Jean King in winning the doubles, as B.J. set the house record of 20 titles. Martina, volleying splendidly, upgraded herself to co-holder: 9 singles, 7 doubles, 4 mixed. Banking her 58th major, she creeps up on Margaret Court's all-time 62. Federer is merely 19 behind her as far as Wimbledon goes. He won't catch up because the big guys don't play doubles any more. But he should nail additional singles titles. Roger painted more lines Sunday than a highway worker in launching 21 aces that looked innocent enough leaving his racket. None of that high-speed stuff Philippoussis had used so devastatingly in attaining his second major final. Federer's favorite speed seemed to be a tame 114 MPH, in the Venus Williams league. However, he directed balls to where his foe wasn't -- wide or down the middle, invariably plopping them on sidelines or center line. This was irritating, as were his low returns that set up passing shots, and the way he flowed effortlessly, smoothly in the silky manner of the departed Pete Sampras. It was at Sampras's expense, on the same lawn, that Federer was first generally recognized. That was two years ago as Roger, 19, stripped the crown from the all-time champ's head in a 5-set fourth rounder, snipping Pete's Wimbledon streak of four titles and 31 matches. What would he do for an encore? Faint. Touted highly, Roger was beaten in the 2002 first round by teen-ager Mario Ancic, and was beginning to develop a reputation as unreliable on the grand occasions. Talent unlimited at striking the ball, limited in competing. "I was very sad for a long time after losing to Ancic," he says. "I had to learn to calm myself. Maybe I was thinking too much. I'm much clearer about everything now, my confidence is strong." Nevertheless, he didn't roar into London with bright lights blazing. He'd lost the Italian Open final to one of the lesser Spaniards, Felix Mantilla, and vanished from the French Open's first round, done in by No. 114 Luis Horna. Stretched out on his belly, being ministered to by trainer Doug Spreen during the first set of a fourth round victory over Feliciano Lopez, Roger, in "great pain," worried, "Wimbledon might be over for me." But Spreen fixed the back spasms, and ought to get a lifetime supply of Swiss chocolates for that. Federer suffered his only loss of a set to young American Mardy Fish in the third round, and was on a roll - Danish, poppyseed, sourdough, whatever, but definitely tasty - toward the title. His deft returns of serve, low and angled, broke down the big guns of Andy Roddick and Philippoussis. As though quality times at bat, he seldom failed to get a piece of the ball, if not a good, telling whack in receiving games. He made Andy and Mark try too hard. After losing serve once to Sjeng Schalken in the quarters, he completed the tournament on 35 consecutive holds, backing it up with choice volleys, and refusing to let Roddick and Philippoussis even sniff a break point. The way he handled capricious grass, this guy was born for Centre Court. In wide white headband, showing off his sleight of hand with numerous many sharp weapons, Federer seemed a Benihana chef cutting up adversaries like so many sirloins. Unseeded No. 46 Philippoussis wasn't exactly chopped meat. Beating No. 1 Agassi in five sets, and Alexander Popp from two sets down in the semis, he had a sensational, reestablishing tournament. But unlike Odysseus, he couldn't escape the last trap. The Greeks probably had a word for it. Wasn't it Federer? <<<Back