By Bill Simons
Flavia Pennetta shocked the tennis world. At 33, she became the oldest player to reach a first Grand Slam final.
And then she won.
Then she retired.
Go figure.
Never before had women’s tennis felt such back-to-back shocks.
Reporters were still debating whether Roberta Vinci’s win over Serena Williams was the most stunning upset of all time. They wondered, did the power of history, with its cruel expectations and the relentless noise of the media machine, simply get to the very human Serena? Ultimately, deep into the match, did Serena, who’d been so hot all year, simply freeze?
But never mind yesterday’s mind-boggling result.
The year-end Grand Slam is a traditional farewell venue. Chris Evert lost to Zina Garrison and then offered a bittersweet farewell wave.
But we knew she was going to go. After playing his last US Open match, Andre Agassi gave a stirring Lou Gehrig-like retirement speech, and Andy Roddick, just 29, announced his farewell in a press conference.
Before Pennetta’s “Say what?” announcement, most of the talk at Italian Meadows – correction: make that Flushing Meadows – was all about Italy.
Italian writer Vincenzo Martucci reported that in his homeland, “the people are crazy on the street. They are so happy.” All the Chamber of Commerce chatter about Italy brought to mind novelist Erica Jong’s curious observation, “What is the fatal charm of Italy? What do we find there that can be found nowhere else? I believe it is a certain permission to be human, which other places, other countries, lost long ago.”
Of course, for centuries Italian women have drawn attention. Historian Walter Shaw Sparrow reminds us that, “the pride taken by the Italians in their gifted women was among the most important facts in the history of Italy’s Renaissance.”
More recently, here in America, we have seen some fairly attractive Italian women. There was the beauty of Gina Lollobrigida and the wit and candor of Sophia Loren, who once confided, “Everything you see I owe to pasta.”
What we saw today was a groundbreaking moment. For the first time, two Italians met in the final of a Slam. Pennetta might have been tempted to call her foe, Roberta Vinci, “My cousin Vinci.”
No, the two aren’t blood sisters – Venus-Serena tight. But they’re closer than most cousins. They met at a tennis academy when they were nine, roomed together for four formative years, and played 50 doubles matches together.
Vinci will always be known for yesterday’s mighty upset, while Pennetta is a lively and loved player – outspoken, and some might claim a tad loose.
During one Fed Cup match she called Amelie Mauresmo a whore. Now ranked No. 1 in the world in attracting charismatic tennis players, she has spoken about lovemaking on planes and cement tennis courts. She had an intense relationship with Spain’s Carlos Moya, and wrote a book about their painful breakup. “The end of my relationship with Carlos,” she revealed, “caused me more pain than any injury. What hurt more than the betrayal itself was the fact that our plans to share a life together had gone up in smoke. I put Carlos before myself. Don’t do it! You shouldn’t do that for a man. That was my biggest mistake.”
Today, just before the final, Flavio was out in the player garden snuggling with her new fiancé, Fabio Fognini.
You’d think this might have helped relax her. Plus, she knew she had a winning record against the No. 43 Vinci. She was bigger, she had won five Grand Slam doubles titles, and her best results had come at the US Open.
This year she scored impressive wins over Sam Stosur, Petra Kvitova and the No. 2 seed, Simona Halep, whom she punished. And Roberta had to be spent. As one headline told us, Vinci’s win over Serena had been pure “Vin-sanity.”
But this was no ordinary match. The Italian Prime Minister and a slew of Italian officials in their splendid suits were on hand. (It would have been a dandy day, if you had such a thing in mind, to invade Rome.) A win would allow Pennetta to pocket a hefty $3.3 million, and she knew this was her last US Open hurrah.
Both she and Vinci came out tight and tentative. In the fifth game, on Pennetta’s seventh break point, no less, Vinci dumped a rally backhand into the net.
The two would trade breaks in a slow slice-and-search match – glide and go. The style was retro and explosion-free. There was ample artistry, but few roars, and three Vinci forehands handed the first set tiebreak to Pennetta, 7-4.
Flavia was stronger. Her forehands went deep. Her down-the-line backhand was a weapon. Her hands were true. She volleyed like the world class doubles champion she is. She used her court position to control the measured action.
The electric, high-sizzle intensity that empowered Vinci’s match with Serena morphed into a low-grade fizzle. True, the mighty Serena could not break the Vinci code yesterday. But today there was little mystery and less danger in Vinci’s game. She was drained.
She fell behind 0-4 in the second set. A lonely overhead and the threat of rain gave Vinci a little hope. But not much. After 1:33 on court, after 18 grinding years on the circuit and a kabillion miles traipsing about the globe, the Italian beauty Pennetta stroked a beautiful and final Grand Slam forehand. The holy grail was hers, 7-6 (4), 6-2.
Then she got in the final word, telling the stunned throng, “One month ago I take a big decision in my life. This is how I’d like to say goodbye to tennis.”
Billie Jean King and the crowd groaned a guttural moan, as if to say, “You’re our hero, don’t tell us that!” Flavia replied. “You don’t have to like this. I’m really happy. It’s what all the players seem to want to do, going out with this big trophy home. This one was my last match at the US Open and I couldn’t think of a better match…I love you guys.” She soon said, “My life is perfect.”
Finalist Vinci seemed like a winner, too. Thrilled that her Italian compatriot and longtime pal had won, she went on a delightful charm offensive. She told IT that Leonardo da Vinci was her uncle and joked with the press that she would be returning to Italy in a private jet and, “then tomorrow [I’ll eat] pasta, real pasta, at home.” – Just like Sophia Loren.
