The Spaniar
d’s groundstroke – usually so precise – drifted just a tad long. At last, Austin Andy Roddick had turned the tide of what seemed like a dreary day. David Ferrer’s errant shot gave Roddick the first set of the second rubber of the U.S.’s Davis Cup battle with the mighty Spaniards. Proud, celebratory and triumphant, Roddick lifted his hand high waving a forefinger – “I’m No. 1.” – and the hopes of American tennis soared. The future was bright.
But sadly, we’ve danced this dance before. At the ’03 U.S. Open, boy Andy offered both a full head of hair, and a seemingly full arsenal of strokes, as he raced to the Open title and the No. 1 ranking. Surely now, the tradition of McEnroe, Connors, Sampras, Agassi, Courier, Chang would flourish. Roddick would remain atop the game, collect many a Slam and sustain American glory.
But it never really happened. Yes, Andy’s had a tremendous year. He scored many a stunning win, was a Davis Cup hero and for a decade boasted a single digit ranking – outstanding. But there was only one modest problem. A Swiss kid entered the game and came to dominate it like no other. So as time and again Roddick lifted our hopes deep in Slams, they would be derailed by Federer. (Conventional wisdom says that Andy might have won at least three more majors if Roger had stuck with playing his beloved soccer.)
But Roddick is nothing if not a persistent warrior. And, after taking a year away, the best Davis Cup player in American history (not named Johnnie Mac) lobbied successfully for his pal Jim Courier to become the Davis Cup Captain and got the Cup tie against the most successful tennis nation of our era, Spain, to be played in his hometown – Austin, Texas. “Hook ‘em Horns!”
Beyond that, prospects for a Fairy Tale grew sweeter. With some bitterness at the schedule-makers, Spain’s best, the mighty but exhausted Rafa Nadal, bowed out of the tie, and all the while Yank Mardy Fish lifted his game, becoming No. 8 the world.
Now, noted the scriptwriters, this Davis Cup battle – in the perfect place, with the perfect prologue – would be Roddick’s feel-good, late career, moment of redemption after years crowded with loss, pain and “what ifs.”
But in the opening match, his pal Mardy Fish could never quite solve Feliciano Lopez’ swarming, left-handed assault and fell 6-4, 3-6, 6-3, 6-7 (2), 8-6 in a frustrating heap of missed opportunity. And when Roddick had raised his finger in triumph and seemingly had wrapped up the first set against Ferrer, Spain’s coach Alberto Costa told his man to challenge the out call that gave Roddick the set. The call was reversed and Ferrer promptly battled back to ‘steal’ the set 9-7 in the tiebreak.
But never mind, thought the loyal Texans, here in Austin, our Andy, Austin Andy would surely prevail. The signs were clear. “Texas is bigger than all of Spain,” bragged one. “Austin is hot,” added another. “But Andy is sizzling.”
But he wasn’t. Instead, he was following the command seen on many a T-shirt about town – “Keep Austin Weird.” For Ferrer (modest stature, 5’ 9” – impressive No. 6 in the world ranking) was returning Roddick’s lightning serve like a supple swordsmen as he scored a 6-7 (9), 5-7, 3-6 win which left 16,000 patriots shaking their heads.
This is not the way this tale was to be spun. The U.S. was in a 2-0 hole – weird.
But the Bryan Brothers – focused, professional, predictably good – are far from weird and their four set win over Fernando (“gee, that’s a lot of product”) Verdasco and Marcel Granollers meant that Roddick’s pal Mardy Fish, who was Andy’s high school teammate on the Boca Academy basketball team in Florida, absolutely had to come through in the clutch (like he heroically did in Columbia last November) and score a win over Ferrer to set up the perfect final chapter in Andy’s perfect Fairy Tale – a fifth and deciding tie in which Roddick – the home standing Godfather and spiritual leader of this American tennis generation – would gain redemption.
Certainly Austin Andy – now a knowing veteran who so loved his town, his state, his country, his sport, his teammates and his loud and adoring local fans – would prevail. This tale was destined to be told.
Enter David Ferrer, a plucky, determined, Spanish worker bee on a mission. Moving with ease, attacking Fish’s weaker forehand and serving with surprising authority, Ferrer was oblivious to both the frenzied crowd and the story he was defying. For Ferrrer’s marathon 7-5, 7-6 (3), 5-7, 7-6 (5) win prevented Texas’ not so Lone Ranger from even taking his gun out of his holster. Roddick, the gunslinger who critics claim has begun his slow ride into the sunset, wouldn’t even get a chance to shoot ‘em up and try to notch a win over Lopez which and produce his western tale for the ages.
In the movies, the bad guy wears a black hat – dusty and old. On this Sunday, the bad guy, David Ferrer, wore a white headband – broad and sweaty. Commentator Ted Robinson called his deeds “utter thievery.” For there is no greater crime than to deny a man his shot at destiny. And, on this dreary day, Roddick would not even get to mount his horse.
