Amidst the rough ‘n tumble of the Flordia Republican debate a surprisingly defensive Newt Gingrich explained that it wouldn’t make sense to deport grandmothers who are illegal aliens. Mitt Romney — recently coached up by a new debate counselor – pounced, saying immigration policy is NOT about 11 million grandmothers. As for tennis, these days, it’s all about one grandmother — Victoria Azarenka‘s.
The oft-told tale is that young Victoria (aka Vika) who turned pro at 14 and journeyed all the way from Belarus to Scottsdale, Ariz., to craft her skills, had crashed into one speed bump after another. So the ‘woe-is-me’ teen sought solace in her grandma’s supposedly comforting counsel. Being a young pro is so tough, vented the struggling kid. The dreary hours of solitary practice, the thankless losses, those painful injuries, the tiresome travel. it was all just too much.
But granny – grizzled and old school – would have none of it and gave young Victoria a hefty dose of tough love. Listen baby I had to scrub floors and work three jobs just to survive here in the old country. Get real, you’re in America kid, seeking fame and glory, bucks and trophies. Shape up and get with it.
Victoria tried. As an 18-year old, she prevailed over Martina Hingis, Maria Sharapova and Marion Bartoli. She would soon win the Australian and U.S. junior championships and collect two mixed doubles Slam Championships. She was hot, a raw and ripping talent to be reckoned with who none other than Sharapova said could be No. 1.
Still there were harrowing setbacks. Despite having a nice lead over Serena Williams at the ‘09 Australian Open, she withered in the (“where has all the ozone gone”) Melbourne heat. Dazed and confused at the ’10 U.S. Open she collapsed and was taken off to a hospital on a stretcher. The next year at the Open, she was mocked when (as the loudest grunter in the sport) she had the temerity to ask boisterous fans in the luxury boxes to be quiet. This year, when she was asked how it felt to be crushed by Serena in the third round of the Open, she simply said, “painful.”
Alas, Azarenka is one kid who knows a thing or two about pain. The queen of withdrawals, she has withdrawn from 21 matches and she’s just 22. Want to brush up on your anatomy? Well, just study her ailments: knee, hip, foot, elbow, shoulder, achilles, respiratory illness – you name it.
Plus, on court, she was often edgy and near implosion: her expressions severe, her demeanor intense. Ruthlessly on task, she all but imposed an over the top ferocity devoid delight or (God forbid) whimsy. Reflecting on the Belarusian, The Guardian wrote, “She of the tantrum, is the master of crass temper outbursts.” With still under developed people skills, she was the epitome of a young, well-meaning (can we say slightly soulless) jock who was less than a PR genius. She claimed other players “envied her good taste in clothes.” When she tired of being compared to Sharapova, she bristled, “Sure, I’m blond, I’m tall, I play tennis and I like clothes and fashion. [But] I’m not just another Maria.”
Worst of all was Azarenka’s wretched, inescapable grunt. No, it’s a screech, a penetrating scream exhalation specialists say lasts 1.5 seconds and which drives many a fan all but crazy. During her semi against Kim Clijsters, only a handful among the 15,000 on hand would back Vika. Indeed, not since, Ivan Lendl has there been a player who could empty stadiums with such aplomb.
All the while she bravely battled on, putting her ample power skills to good use. She beat Sharapova to claim the coveted Sony Ericsson title in Miami in April. She rose to No. 3 in September and often was the trendy pick to win a Slam in a field void of dominance.
On the eve of the Aussie Open things were trending in her direction. Now more calm and mature, she had a new coach, Sam Sumyk, had won the warm-up tournament in Sydney and was one of six players who could emerge out of Melbourn as No. 1. And (sorry Caroline Wozniacki) she was women’s tennis answer to Andy Murray – the best active player to have never won a Slam.
With a kind draw to navigate and knowing she would not have to face Serena (who beats her like a drum),
Azarenka struggled in the quarters and dropped the second set of her semi against Clijsters before she prevailed.
Still just prior to her first final she was a mess. Ear buds in place, hovering under a blinder-like yellow hoodie, she danced nervously before going on court as she and all of tennis wondered whether she would embrace her moment of truth – her first Slam final. Or would she cave?
After two ugly games – which the double-faulting Vika promptly lost – the answer seemed clear. Sharapova Inc. (aka Maria Sharapova) would probably bounce back from that humbling loss to Petra Kvitova in the Wimbledon final and Maria, regal and triumphant, would claim her first Slam in four years.
But not so fast!
Azarenka is no longer just a baseline basher without a plan B. Indeed, the Belarusian didn’t slowly turn the the match. She changed the battle in a heartbeat as she quickly dug deep, moved well and went in the zone and took command as she attacked Maria’s second serve, offered occasional drop-shots and lobs and, more than anything, stepped in and shoved back power broker foe, as if to confront her: “hit a winner my dear, or lose.”
Sharapova lost, as incredibly she dropped twelve of the next thirteen games.
Then, with the demolition complete, came a moment for the ages. Time stopped. Disbelief reigned. Kid Vika gazed at her team. Stunned and helpless, her blank face shouted shock. The question clear, am I dreaming?
Like young Borg falling to his knees or Aussie Pat Cash clamoring up to the Wimbledon Friends Box or Francesca Schiavone kissing her beloved French Open clay, this was a moment to be remembered – indelible and unforgettable. The expression-less machine who only displayed fierce intensity, suddenly dropped her game face and let us in, showing all.
Lip-readers informed us that Azarenka was asking, “what just happened, what just happened?”
What just happened was that a strapping young athlete – strong and gifted – had with fearless abandon, executed and come of age. Landlocked Belarus (population just nine million) had scored its greatest triumph on the international stage. Five different players – Clijsters, Schiavone, Kvitova, Sam Stosur and Azarenka – had now won the last five Slams. For the last four of them their Slam win was the first of their career. Tennis’s recent script of non-American internationalism very much remained in place. Women’s tennis was now clearly tipping to a new young generation of youngsters – Azarenka, Kvitova, Wozniacki et al – who more than ever were promising to be at the core of tomorrow’s triumphs.
Already, without taking a breath, many were asking how many more Slams could Azarenka win?
Meanwhile across the globe fans were singing a chorus, a Hallelujah chorus: women’s tennis at last had a No. 1 who had actually won a Slam. And yes, somewhere in Belarus an aging granny, under a broad grin, was certainly saying: “You know what, that tough love stuff really works pretty good,” as she thought with glee “you know what, my little grandkid Vika, she did okay, she really did okay.”
