By Bill Simons
You can’t see it.
You can’t hear it.
You can’t taste it.
You can’t feel it.
But then, maybe you can, maybe you can feel it.
Belief.
It is so central in our lives, and in that curious game, the one they call tennis. And, in the career of Stan Wawrinka, belief—or more exactly, the lack of belief—has been everything.
In a way, Stan has been ill-fated. He grew up in this Golden Era, continually in the shadows. And, as a Swiss, he was always in the greatest shadow of all. He was No. 2 in his Alpine land, a mere afterthought to the greatest man to ever pick up a racket on this Earth—The Almighty Federer.
Such bad fate, yes.
But Stanislas Wawrinka—straightforward and without pretense—is such a good man, with a good family, and a good coach. He’s popular on the tour, and his parents run an organic farm that helps troubled children. How good is that? His coach, Swede Magnus Norman, is a mellow sage, with a tennis program that is actually called the Good to Great Academy. (Has there ever been an academy with a more appropriate name?) Wawrinka has been so good for so long, but he’s never been able cross that oh-so-subtle bridge: the bridge to somewhere, the bridge to greatness.
Clearly, he has been trending in the right direction. He reached the 2013 US Open semis. He climbed to No. 8 in the world, and at the Australian Open, he adeptly managed to avoid the brutal half of the draw containing Federer, Andy Murray, and Rafa Nadal. He zoomed to the quarterfinals, thanks to a walkover, a foe retiring, and two workmanlike wins, losing just one set. Okay, his confidence was building. Experts took note.
But they also knew that Wawrinka (like David Ferrer, Juan Martin del Potro, Jo-Willie Tsonga, Tomas Berdych, and a handful of others) has long been part of the supporting cast. You know, the ATP’s B-listers. The players who’ve long been knocking on the door, and who share one of the greatest collective inferiority complexes our game has ever seen.
Only on the rarest (and usually least consequential) of occasions could Wawrinka beat Federer. He’s never beaten Nadal in 11 meetings—ouch! Almost as dispiriting was his record against his foe tonight: the three-time reigning King of Australia, Novak Djokovic, who hadn’t lost any of 28 ATP matches since his defeat in the 2013 US Open final, and who, over four seasons, had won 25 straight matches in Melbourne. Worse yet, Djokovic was 15-2 over Wawrinka in career match play, and had beaten the Swiss lad 14 straight times. His string of wins included two epic five-set encounters: one at the 2013 US Open, and their marathon at last year’s Aussie Open. Many went on to call that contest—where Wawrinka came within two points of victory, before painfully going down 12-10 in the fifth—the match of the year.
Not surprisingly, as his new power-coach Boris Becker looked on, Djokovic breezed to a 6-2 first set win. The Serb was sprinting to victory.
But something happened en route to Djokovic’s four-peat. Wawrinka’s power shot, his laser-sharp backhand, zoned in. Stan began to return serve with surprising authority, and Djokovic—inexplicably and rather suddenly—seemed adrift. His movement, usually such a wonder, had little of its best-in-the-game fluidity. His intensity faltered. His play seemed lackluster. He cursed himself, and barked at his friends box. All the while, Wawrinka did his best Federer impression. “There’s a Zen-like feeling coming from his support team,” said Australian Open radio.
Stan was in the zone, playing with confidence, while the crowd—waving banners and in full throat—had his back. His movement was fleet, his mindset free. His shots—heavy and deep—kissed the lines while punishing the Serb.
There was little Djokovic or his high-profile support team could do as Wawrinka grabbed a 2-6, 6-4, 6-2 lead, to come within a set of victory.
But this is when champions spring to action—this is where Novak Djokovic, with his six Grand Slams, becomes Novak Djokovic. “Novak has a presence,” noted broadcaster Chris Bowers. “He’s like a cat who is stalking you, ready to pounce.”
And pounce he did, coming back from a 0-40 deficit in the eighth game of the fourth set to strike a wonder forehand to the corner which powered him to a definitive break.
Soon, Novak collected the fourth set to even the battle. His expected triumph, presumably, was in sight. Especially when he used his sublime defense, a new-found explosiveness, and fearless shots to score a critical break in the third game of the fifth set.
He owned Wawrinka. It was obvious. Certainly, Djokovic, who has been part of so many big moments, who scored a miracle forehand return of serve to snatch the 2011 US Open from Federer, and who had reached 14 straight Grand Slam semis, was on his way. And deep within, the gutsy but war-weary Swiss must have been subsumed by doubt.
But no—Wawrinka took advantage of four incredible Djokovic errors to break right back. The drama renewed, heightened by marathon points, intense shotmaking, and a brief, quirky rain delay. Four times in a row, Djokovic bravely served to stay in the contest.
Then, after four hours of excellence, disaster struck. With Djokovic trailing 7-8, and the score at deuce, Wawrinka awkwardly shanked a return of serve. A limp shot spun across the net. Any high school kid worth his Nikes would punish this lame duck.
Maybe it was too simple, maybe it stunned Djokovic, whatever. But he flubbed a forehand—a shocking lapse at crunch time. Then, almost as if it were an instant replay, the man with the cat-like nerves botched yet another simple shot, a forehand volley.
Was it a choke? Just say Nole.
In an Aussie flash, Wawrinka prevailed. The pretender, the runner-up, the wannabe—at last—had fully become Stan the Man.
The Swiss’ press conference began with a sarcastic question: “Hey Stan, nobody beats Wawrinka 15 straight times, right?”
Apparently. Now there are a world of possibilities. Wawrinka has beaten Tomas Berdych (who he will meet in the semis) three straight times. We could even have an all-Swiss final, if Federer downs both Murray and Nadal.
Lest we forget, anything is possible in sport, if you believe. The good man from Switzerland, who has labored for so long in the shadows, has belief.
And we believe, too. For, as Chris Bowers said, in tennis, “We live for moments like this, and they leave us uplifted.”
