A Cab Ride and Nadal
Posted: August 14th, 2008 | Filed under: International, Other Sports | 45 Comments »
Let me tell you a story about Manesh. He was a kid on our high school tennis team. Sometimes in my memory, events tend to get exaggerated but I’m pretty certain that Manesh was 4-foot 3, and he weighed 47 pounds. It was a physical test for him to actually pick up a tennis racket. Now, this is not to say I was some sort of physical specimen — back then I probably weighed no more than 120 pounds myself. But I think it’s important, for reference, to say that I was Shaq compared to Manesh.
The coach decided to match me up against Manesh in a key knockout match for a higher spot on our team. It’s worth noting that our coach did not know anything about tennis — I’m sure he just got stuck with the sport in one of those backroom coach negotiations (“OK, I’ll take tennis, but you have to teach American history, I’m tired of the Incas”). And so the only thing he would ever do is have us run around the tennis courts a few laps in a pointless bit of long-distance conditioning and match us up in key knockout matches. Because the coach did not know anything about tennis, he liked my game. I had, if I do say so myself, a stunningly powerful serve for a preposterously skinny kid with thick glasses. Of course, the serve never went in. Never. But, as mentioned, the coach did not have an appreciation for the finer points of the game, and anyway I could really whack that serve.
So he matched me up with Manesh and made it clear to me that once I dispatched of him I was on the fast road to tennis glory. Anyway, that’s what I heard. I looked across the net and at the time Manesh was struggling mightily to unzip the cover of his tennis racket. I saw Wimbledon in my future.
I served first, and first ball I unleashed a rocket serve that was out by a mere 12 or 13 feet, but the ball skipped off the ground and satisfyingly stuck in the fence behind Manesh. I felt good. I looked to see how this show of power affected Manesh — his face did not seem to register much intimidation. I then hit my second serve, and Manesh, with all the physical effort he could muster, managed to bloop the ball back just an inch over the net. I rushed up and pounded a forehand into the open court. Manesh, now calling on reserves of strength untapped in his life, lunged and blooped a lob over my head. I raced back and hit my forehand down the line. Manesh, now appearing on the brink of exhaustion, reached out and blooped the ball just over the net. I rushed up and using all the power that had been handed down to me from generation to generation, I absolutely crushed a ferocious backhand into the middle of the net.
Yeah. You could say that match was pretty much over after that.
Actually, over is not the right word. “Over” somehow indicated that my chances for beating Manesh had ended. But that’s not quite right. After that first point, my mission had dramatically changed. My original mission had been to knock off Manesh and begin my climb to the top of the tennis team and, from there, to the Tour. My slightly adjusted mission after that first point was to hit Manesh with the tennis ball. For one long superset, Manesh blooped and blooped, shot after shot, each one either just clearing the net or just floating over my head when I was at the net. Dropshots and lobs. That’s all he had. It’s a worthwhile point to add that’s all he needed. I was roughly zero-for-348 on overhead smash attempts. He wasn’t just in my head, he had a condo up there where he rested in a recliner and watched all the fuses pop.
After the drubbing was done, I came to a fairly startling realization: I was probably not going to win the French Open if I could not beat a 15-year-old kid who needed someone a little stronger to help him tie his shoes so they would be tight enough. Anyway, that’s my little story. I’ve lived with that latent disappointment for a long time … and then on Wednesday in Beijing, I watched Raffy Nadal play Olympic tennis and I finally figured out why I have a violent reaction to that guy. Nadal is just a grown-up Manesh.
The reason I had never figured this out before is, of course, because Nadal is nothing at all like the Manesh I described here. Nadal is a physical beast, an overpowering force who wears his sleeves rolled up like the old Reds player Ted Kluszewski used to … and for the same reason, because when you see those python arms, you bow in respect. And Nadal absolutely crushes his shots, mashes them, every one, from every angle, from every position, he will pound backhands from his knees, hammer forehands while doing cartwheels, he will lunge and trip and fall and slide but no matter what he does the ball will come rocketing back at you faster than you imagines.
No, the connection is something much more subtle than that. Put it this way: I’ve always been a Roger Federer guy rather than a Rafael Nadal guy (if you care even slightly about tennis, you really have to pick one), and I always assumed it’s because I like Federer’s game better, I appreciate the artistic way this guy controls points, I love watching him find angles that Euclid of Alexandria didn’t discover, I love the way he speeds the game up and slows it down and speeds it up again, he’s like Greg Maddux for tennis, and I’ve told you how much I love Maddux. Yes, I’ve always thought that Federer resembled the sort of tennis player that, in my dreams, I would have become.
But, no, that’s not it. I watched Nadal play at the Olympics; he was facing off against the Russian Federation’s Igor Andreev, who I guess is a good player, one of the 25 or 30 best in the world, thought I had never heard of him. I don’t keep up with tennis much anymore. In any case, Andreev has the reputation of having a spectacular forehand and a reasonable all-around game, and for much of the first set he was holding his own with Nadal. That is to say that Nadal was making enough mistakes that the match was close.
Then came this key point — it’s one I wrote about in my Kansas City Star column — where Andreev and Nadal got into a long and fierce rally. They were pounding shots at each other, and at some point in rallies like that I think the point is not the point, it is to find out which player is willing to stand out there the longest, which player is more willing to endure the exhaustion and pain of hitting savage shots and chasing them down. Of course, Nadal won the point. He always does.
When I saw the look on Andreev’s face, that’s when it hit me. I’d seen that look before. I’d FELT that look before. See, Nadal doesn’t beat opponents. He suffocates them. He leaves them empty and alone. The feeling I cannot shake from my seminal match with Manesh was that after the first point I realized that I simply did not have the necessary tools to beat him. I apparently could not overpower him. I could not get a shot by him. I could not tire him out. I could not outlast him. It was clear that he was going to just keep blooping shots back at me forever, until we were old men, until my grandkids entered college, until the polar ice caps melted, until the Royals made the playoffs, I mean, I just could not beat him. And when I crossed that mental line, I realized the ultimate loser’s lament: “What’s the point?”
That’s the look I saw on Andreev’s face. To me, it looked like — OK, I cannot hit a shot past this guy. I cannot endure long rallies with him. I do not have enough talent to make him miss. I’m not fast enough to run down the wicked shots this guy hits. And, dammit, I do not want to win as much as he does. … The rest of the match went quickly and predictably. Nadal won in straight sets. And he left another opponent all crumpled up and muttering. I’ve been there. I’ve felt that. Nadal is my personal tennis nightmare come to life. It’s no wonder I find myself rooting against him. It is, really, the ultimate sign of respect.
* * *
The story would end there, but I would like t give you a taste of Beijing, so let me tell you about a cab ride I had here at the Olympics. If you’ve been following along, you might note that I have not had great experiences with cabs here in Beijing. They are preposterously inexpensive, but really is there a price cheap enough to make it worthwhile to drive aimlessly around the city or get dropped off miles away from your destination point?
Well, you decide: I gave the cab driver the card that shows exactly where my hotel is located. My hotel is roughly a 10-minute cab ride from the Main Press Center, depending on the number of crazed drivers who decide to cut you off at the last possible second. The time also depends on how quickly the driver figures out where the hotel is located — this time has fluctuated anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes. Usually about 10 minutes into the drive I will hear a loud and oddly satisfying “Ohhhhhhh!” as if the driver just figured out my hotel location, and from that point on it’s usually just a a few minutes away.
Well, my cab driver this time made no pretenses about it — he had absolutely no idea where my hotel was located, and he was not going to have any “Ohhhhhh!” moments. He called the hotel twice, which did not seem to either improve his knowledge of the situation or build his geographical confidence.
Instead, he drove around and around the same five or six street loop for about 45 minutes. If anything like this would happen in New York or Chicago or whatever American city, I would pretty quickly suspect that the cabbie was taking me for a ride. But this cab driver was clearly lost, clearly embarrassed, clearly frightened that he would never ever find this hotel and would be stuck with an American baseball fan in his back seat for the remainder of his life.
Finally, in a breakthrough of some sort, the driver turned left at a corner where he had been turning right — I had made this suggestion before, but I was entirely unable to get any sort of communication through.*
*The stunning thing to me as a traveler is precisely how little English many people here speak. I say that with all respect — it’s my fault, there is absolutely no reason for people here to know English, and I blame myself for coming to China without knowing more than three Chinese words. But my point is that I’ve been in many places where people don’t speak English, but even so a few words will creep through … probably because of Hollywood movies and television shows like Baywatch and all that. I was in a cab in rural Spain, and the cabbie spoke NO English, but even so he could vaguely pick up on words like “yes” and “no” and “OK” and I could pick up “Uno” and “gracias” and “bambino” and “Gabriella Sabatini.” It could not lead to a deep conversation, but it was a pleasant one.
Well, even those base words are not necessarily understood here because for so long English simply did not pierce the culture. A couple of days ago, I had an Internet problem in my hotel room. I called down for some help, and they sent up a technician of some sort. Well, while he was coming up I figured out the problem. So he arrived at the door, and I said, “It’s OK. I fixed it.” Well, he did not understand me. I said, “It’s good. It’s fine. It’s no problem, no problemo …” and he STILL did not get it. So he came into my room, and he stared at my computer for, no exaggeration, 15 minutes, all while I’m saying, “The computer is OK … it’s in good shape … it’s fit as a fiddle … it’s up to snuff … it’s in the pink … it’s satisfactory .. it’s okey-dokey … it’s in fine fettle … ”
Finally someone came up, someone who did not speak much more English than this guy, but she seemed to get the drift and she said something in Chinese, and he quickly left, and I have never seen him again.
Anyway, this new cab turn opened a whole new series of opportunities to get lost. He took many of these, got lost about four more times, and I got to see parts of Beijing that aren’t in any guide books. After about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, the car arrived at the hotel. The cabbie pointed to the meter which, of course, had been running the whole time.
The cab ride cost a grand total of $1.43.
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Great stuff as always, Joe. Just fyi, Dave Barry had a similar take on a Beijing cab ride only a couple days ago: http://www.miamiherald.com/living/columnists/dave-barry/story/636540.html
Can we get that cabbie to meet you at KCI with instructions to get you to the Springsteen concert?
” I’ve always thought that Federer resembled the sort of tennis player that, in my dreams, I would have become”
I feel that this is the embodiment of being a sports fan for most people. I, myself, find that I always rooted for 2 types of players:
1. Those on the Cubs
2. Those who play “like me” — Scrappy (read: short, white) 2B’s, undersized LB’s, pass-first PG’s
And of course, I root against 2 types of players:
1. The New York Mets (this was the big rivalry to me as a kid)
2. The guys that owned me as a player— power hitters, great big TE’s, tall guys who play PG for some reason
I think this is why, when someone tells me they “always like Gary Payton”, I assume they are a jerk.
What I like about the Nada/Maneshl story is how the really good ones play the game!
Michael Jordan was that way. Not only was he a remarkable physical specimen with hours upon hours of practice to hone his god-given talent… he played the game.
Ted Williams played into the Boudreau Shift when he could’ve blooped Texas Leaguers into left field. But he played the game. I like Boudeau adjusting everything defensive in honor of Williams. I like Williams driving the ball to right field against all odds.
I like how fading veterans compensate for lost youth and athleticism with nothing but wile and experience. I liked how the young stallion Bo Jackson could climb the fences and hit the ball a mile without thinking about it… but who’d blow a routine fly ball because he wasn’t paying attention to the game. I wonder what Michael Jordan was thinking when the imagined the world needed a 6-foot-9 second baseman. (I suspect he’d figured out the game but never quite got the skills.)
I hate the St. Louis Cardinals as a matter of habit or loyalty to Kansas City or something. But I love watching the career of Alber Pujols, just ’cause I want to see how he approaches the game in his dotage and his swing isn’t quite as fast and he has to work for a hit or RBI. I suspect it will be elegant.
Hi! Did you know you can grab live images from http://www.picapp.com – Check it out!
Funny you say that Jay B, because when somebody tells me they always liked David Eckstein or Greg Paulus, I assume they are annoying.
I also dislike the “scrappy” players who “outhustle” you.. I just note in my head that they are all white players and move along.
As for Beijing Cab rides, I think i have a possible explanation. I am almost positive that in anticipation for the games, the people imported a bunch of cab drivers from other areas of China. And in many of those areas, english and western media culture hasn’t blended in. I say this, only because my personal experience with Beijing and cab rides was so different, and this was just back in December.
For a bit more context, my sister spent six months in Thailand. She said that getting into cabs was pretty much worthless. Her Thai was too limited to precisely describe everything, so when cab drivers didn’t know, they just drove, pretending to know what they were doing even though they obviously didn’t. It was culturally unacceptable for a Thai man to ask for directions and appear as if he didn’t know something.
I’d look into renting a scooter and buying several large maps of Beijing. Surely you couldn’t do any worse.
Yeah, Jay, I also hate players who are good.
Is it “inspiring” that someone the size of David Eckstein can have a career as a major league baseball player? Sure, I guess so. But I can’t find it anything but annoying that Eckstein, who may have a lot of talent for his size but does not have a lot of talent for his sport (career 89 OPS+), is constantly feted for playing baseball at a barely average level, just because he happens to be on the small side. Meanwhile Alex Rodriguez, inarguably one of the 10 best hitters of his generation, is trashed up and down the block. And why? Because Eckstein had 13 good at-bats in the 2006 World Series and A-Rod has 44 mediocre-to-bad ones over the last few playoffs. Forget that he’s five home runs shy of 550 at the age of 33; 44 bad playoff at-bats make him horrible, but Eckstein (after going 0-for-9 in the first two games of the ‘06 Series) goes 8-for-13 against a self-destructing Tigers staff and he’s a god. Yeesh.
Sheez, Joe. It’s a bit disturbing how much of our lives have been lived in parallel. I can still see my “Manesh” standing on the other side of the net, holding one of those super-over-sized Prince rackets that doubled his height when he raised it over his head (which he could do, barely), and trampolining ball after ball after ball back at me. I was all erratic power, and he beat me 6-1,6-1.
And all the while my social studies teacher/coach kept saying, “Spin serve, Rob, hit the spin serve” as if that was going to turn things around.
I never saw the link between Rafa and that little kid, but I see it now and it helps explain why I’ve never liked Nadal. Thanks, once again.
It sounds like Marco Polo had an easier time getting around China.
Of course Federer loses as soon as Joe writes about the potential gold medal showdown with Nadal in the KC Star…
It’s funny that I say I’m a Cubs fan, and yet you all assume I like David Eckstein.
I hope you’re not reading my email and thinking that I would play Eckstein over A-Rod. I understand value. In no way would I say that a “scrappy” player is necessarily more valuable– just who I personally root for in many cases. The player I most looked up to as a kid was a young(er) Craig Biggio. Of course, Biggio was extremely talented, but he played with intensity and a selfless desire to win.
I also hope you don’t suggest that I am somehow responsible for New York fans not liking A-Rod. New York fans are a breed all their own, I can’t claim to understand what makes people hate perennial non-winner A-Rod but revere perennial loser Don Mattingly as a hero.
My comment is about people looking for pieces of themselves in who they root for. I don’t think this is any secret.
When I watch Pujols, A-Rod, the Patriots, etc… I feel like “they don’t need me to root for them, they’re already good”– Everyone in life feels like they are the underdog, and may choose to root for the underdog because they see themselves in that person or team.
Speaking of Eckstein, my fiance came up with an absolute gem of an idea, given that little eck is playing for our beloved Jays this year (despite the fact that we have the best defensive shortstop in the majors on the bench)…
She wants a Jays jersey with Eckstein’s name on it. Only instead of the correct jersey number, she wants “E6″ on the back.
It’s funny to see this side of the Manesh story, because I was Manesh (so to speak) in my high school days. I was a skinny little kid who could run like the wind, get everything back, and put a little bit of strange left-handed spin on my shots. I had people smash racquets against me and throw balls at me. My arch-rival from the nearby school would listen to birds chirping on a discman to calm himself down during changeovers.
And yet I can’t root for Nadal. He plays the way I used to play, and I always wished I could do more. Of course, I can’t root for Federer, either, who has all the effortless power and grace I thought I deserved (hey, it was an effort just to lift the racquet above my head). I like the guys like Andy Murray and Marat Safin, who have all the talent in the world and no idea what to do with it. Sometimes they seem genuinely surprised by their genius, and other times they’re furious because they know what they’re capable of and can’t pull it off. I think if you woke me up tomorrow and gave me a 140-mph serve, I’d be much the same way.
And if I hit a particularly awesome drop volley, I might moon the crowd too.
I think you run it by the wife. She’s ok, you’re ok.
You taking her? Might be a good ‘date night’, if you get a babysitter.
If you end up going, take a day off or 2 next week to spend with the fam.
I work for a Swiss company, and as a result I now despise Federer. Not that he’s done anything to me personally, or that I even care about tennis all that much. I just want the smug look on my co-workers faces and the condescending tone in their voices blown to smithereens about SOMETHING. The day after the Wimbledon final may have been the most satisfying day in my work life, as I got to stroll into every meeting and see their crestfallen faces when I’d ask, “So, quite a match yesterday, huh?”
Yes, I’m petty.
Hmm, I don’t really equate rooting for underdogs in the same way as rooting for the “scrappy” player. I understand the need to look for something of yourself in a player, but i never quite understood all the energy and consideration people give to trying to decide how much a person “cared” or even “hustled.” There are obvious examples of people who dont’ care, and yes, a lack of passion is not fun to watch. But, to me, sometimes the people who make a big show of passion, are the least itneresting. I don’t like Nadal, but he is hardly the underdog. I like Federer’s style, more because it looked like something precisely that i couldn’t do no matter how much training or passion i had.
And that’s fine, if that’s the way you want to view sports. You probably love Tiger Woods for the same reason. Perfectly valid.
I prefer to pull for someone who doesn’t necessarily have all the god-given ability. We are just different that way.
I’m fascinated by the question of what kind of guys we root for. There’s their look, and their style.
And then, there’s what we think about it.
It seems that I root for players that others hate, or somehow think are soft. ARod, Laettner, Wojciechowski, David Robinson. Payton Manning, though I am a Bostonian. Pippin. Stockton
OK. Wojo was not soft. But people hated him. And Stockton wasn’t soft. But he was dirty.
What does this say about me that I tend to root for the smart guys, the great defensive guys? I mean, other than the fact that I consider my only assets when playing to be my head and my willingness to expend myself on D?
Speaking of you column, Joe,…
You raised the question of whether tennis should be an Olympic sport. I think about this question all the time. Far too much, in fact.
First, I think that we can all agree that equestian events are out. The riders aren’t doing most of the work. And the horses don’t get medals.
I generally agree that sports with bigger events than the Olympics are out, too. But that’s actually the hard part. We know so few sports, how do we really know. I mean, do YOU really know if the Olympics are water polo’s most prestigious event? Just because I know about it, that doesn’t mean that true afficionados would think so. What about team handball? I mean, that’s a great, impressive, athletic sport. It’s cool, having athletic aspects of volleyball and basketball. But I don’t know anything about professional team handball. I only know a tiny tiny bit about Olympic team handball.
So, here’s my question: For how many sports are you really sure that the olympics is the most prestigious event?
Or, the converse: How many sports do you assume having nothing as presigious as the Olympics because you, an American, only hear about it during the Olympics?
This post reminds me of your “Meaning of Tiger” post a few months back. Tiger, Nadal, Jordan, Pujols, etc. all have that ability to make any attempt seem futile because you know they will beat you no matter how long it takes. If you manage to fool or beat them once, you know there’s no way in hell you can do that again because you just made them even more determined.
I think that is a big part of what makes the Federer/Nadal rivalry so great. At some level, everyone knew that Federer’s mastery and control of the game (ala Maddux, as you stated) could only last so long against Nadal because of his Energizer bunny-like ability to just keep at it until he won.
If you go back and watch the Wimbledon final from last year and then watch this year’s match, you’ll notice a striking difference. Shots that were falling for Federer the year before were being returned FOR WINNERS by Nadal this year. Even the cross-court forehand Federer relied heavily on this year (it was the only thing that worked) wasn’t as effective by the end of the match.
I’ve always been a Federer fan myself, but I can’t help but admire Nadal’s tenacity and determination.
Team Handball should be out, not because the Olympics isn’t the highest pinnacle of the sport, because it probably is, but because it isn’t “universal” enough, just like softball. Of course, that won’t happen because 45% of the voting members of the IOC are European (Switzerland has more voting members than the USA or China, yeah that seems somehow fair. . . NOT!) and Team Handball is “universal” if you consider Europe the Universe. So American dominated sports like softball go by the wayside, but Team handball does not.
Joe, you could make a description of a game of Pong sound interesting.
We have a guy in IT here called Manesh. Strangely, he does not remind me of Rafael Nadal.
Oh, and hmmmmmmmmmmm Gabriella Sabatini.
Sabatini >>>>> Kournikova, Sharapova, and all the other Ova’s.
“She wants a Jays jersey with Eckstein’s name on it. Only instead of the correct jersey number, she wants “E6? on the back.”
But it was a gritty E6!
“So American dominated sports like softball go by the wayside, but Team handball does not.”
Don’t believe the trash about “America dominates too much in Softball, therefore we are canning it!”
Because they’re canning baseball too, and where exactly is America’s dominance in Olympic baseball?
If it was really about one team always winning, why is Archery still an Olympic sport? The Korean women have won every gold medal since it became an Olympic sport.
Here is the reason why Softball and Baseball are being canned : Because nobody in the UK plays baseball and softball, and London whined about having to build two stadiums for a sport that would never be played anymore after the Olympics were over. Some money changed hands between the UK Olympic Committee and the scumbags that make up the IOC, and voila. No need to build two “useless” stadiums.
Fortunately “10M Air Rifle” is still an Olympic sport!
Instead, he drove around and around the same five or six street loop for about 45 minutes
Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament!
“First, I think that we can all agree that equestian events are out. The riders aren’t doing most of the work. And the horses don’t get medals.”
Are you kidding? Controlling a horse, guiding it around a cross-country course or show-jumping arena, is every bit a feat of athleticism as hitting a ball or throwing an object or simply running. To succeed at equestrian events a competitor needs courage, skill and fitness. It also takes strength, maybe not as much as some other sports need — but I’d back Mark Todd, at age 52, in an arm wrestle against Johnny Damon any day of the week for any amount of money.
That’s very believeable Creston.
And yet Atlanta took the Olympic track stadium and converted it to a baseball stadium. So you’d think London could convert a baseball stadium into a soccer stadium or cricket field.
And team handball looks like a bad version of dodgeball. (And it really looks like water polo without the pool.)
“(Switzerland has more voting members than the USA or China, yeah that seems somehow fair. . . NOT!)”
It may not be fair but it’s probably a good thing. I mean, if Americans refer to the winners of their national championships in baseball, football (their own version) and basketball — contests between city-based teams — as “world champions”, without batting an eyelid, then how much of a global perspective does the nation’s sporting fraternity have?
This post resonates with me, because I *was* Manesh in high school, if not as physically unimpressive. See, when I was growing up and playing tennis, nobody ever taught me topspin – so I learned to push the ball back over the net, because if you do not have topspin you cannot hit the ball back really hard. I eventually did learn it, but I’d had so many years without it – and my body was always a good three steps behind my mind in execution – that I was never able to consistently use topspin as a weapon in actual games. I could be perfectly set up for a winner, but the chances were about two out of three that I’d hit it out instead – so I didn’t even go for it.
Instead, I took advantage of my two key abilities. One, I was pretty fast, and I could cover a lot of the tennis court, so I could get to most shots. Two, my years of pushing the ball had made me very good at getting the ball back if all I wanted to do was have it go in the court. I also had a very good lob, because I spent a lot of time playing against my friend Tim, who was a couple inches taller than me (and eventually reached 6′2″ or so) and had long arms, so he loved to play at the net. Having a good lob was necessary to avoid being beaten 6-0 every set.
So I would get the ball back, I would lob it, I would hit shots that *dared* the other person to hit winners at me – because the frustration of playing against someone like me, or someone like Manesh, is that you know you SHOULD be winning. You CAN’T be beaten by this… this… unskilled moron who can’t hit a real tennis shot to save his life. So you don’t just want to win, you want to destroy them, you want to hit brilliant perfect winners that make it clear how superior you are – and once that becomes your mentality, I’ve won the match. My opponents would take my invitation and try to overhit winners, and more often than not THEY would hit it out. And this kind of frustration builds on itself – it’s much easier to deal with losing if the other person is beating you than if you’re beating yourself, which is what happens when most of your points are lost on unforced errors. So you get angry at yourself, and this leads to more unforced errors, and so on.
I had two defining matches in my high school career (which was fairly successful, actually – I end up #4 varsity singles and was part of our #2 doubles team that won most of its matches, since my play style and lob skills lent themselves quite well to doubles). One was against a teammate, Graham, a somewhat overweight kid who had the most beautiful tennis shots I’ve ever seen up close and in person. Everything he hit was a gorgeous, topspin-laden rocket. But he wasn’t particularly mentally tough, and I beat him 6-2 in an exhibition set as he totally lost his cool and melted down, finally screaming at our coach that my style “would never work in a real match!” and storming off. He was, in a way, right – I’ll get to that below – but it clearly HAD just worked. I probably shouldn’t have laughed at him, but it was funny and I was in high school.
The second defining match took place during an actual match against another school. I am allergic to every kind of tree pollen known to man, and tennis season is in the spring, so my allergies were out in full force. When I get really bad allergies, my eyes get itchy and watery and swell up – the end result of which was that I could not see a damn thing. And since I was having a hard enough time just seeing the ball, I completely abandoned any pretense of a real tennis swing – I didn’t hit a single topspin shot all match.
I lost the first set 6-4, but I won the grueling second set something like 7-6 (9-7). My opponent, who had been getting increasingly fed up, could not deal with losing a set to me and having to continue the match. Faced with the prospect of another half an hour or more tracking down my dinky lobs, he completely lost it and flat-out refused to go back out on the court. It took his coach a good fifteen minutes to convince him to finish the match; my coach, in the meantime, could barely contain his amusement and told me to keep it up as long as I could.
Sadly, my eyes were completely useless at this point and I lost the third set 6-3, but I remain proud that I caused a high-school opponent to have a full-fledged temper tantrum in the middle of a match.
I did reach my peak with this type of game, though, and it never would have translated to college tennis if I’d tried to play it. Once your opponent starts hitting a lot more winners than unforced errors off your inviting lobs and bloops, you’re done – you’ve got nothing left to counter them with. Only when you can still get into people’s heads and make them hit a ton of unforced errors can you still play the way Manesh and I did.
The thing is, Joe – I, like you, am a huge Federer fan, and I think it is for the same reasons. The artistic nature of his game, the way he controls points (or did) – the fact that he is what I, in my perfect tennis world where I *could* hit topspin shots for winners – would have become. I was always a very cerebral tennis player – the problem is that I couldn’t actually execute the shot plan I’d set up in my head. Federer can, and watching him set up shots four or five (or more) shots in advance represents everything I always wanted to do. But I do see your point about Nadal – he is Manesh and I with power, getting to absolutely everything, but hitting it back so hard that you don’t even have the opportunity to hit an unforced error where you should have hit a winner. All you have is the error.
Anyway, thanks for bringing back some fun memories. I need to go out and hit some tennis balls again. It’s been too long.
Joe I love you and your column,but,I have to reiterate that you still have not mentioned THE Andy Mckee.Hometown [K.C.]hero.Check. Gifted Musician.Check.My suggestion as of sunday,Blow off the boss,spend quality time with a 1st grader who will not be a first grader for long,enjoy your wife’s company for the first time in 3 weeks,and,Google “andy McKee on youtube after everyone’s aleep but yourself.Then and only then will you realize that,while spruce stringbeen is in town,you can see a real musician plays all over your city 3/4 time he has concerts.Please check out :For My Father”from Andy and remember that is your ONLY responsibility.I am sorry that I posted a day late but the Boss is on holiday and I am working[willingly]85 hrs a week till he gets back and my time is very slim.To admonish you further this is the 3rd time I have begged you to check him out and still no telling your loyal and obviosly smarter posters about this local talent.All other posters please check him out also.He is a rare talent that you can see for pennies to a dollar and is amazing.Feel free to rip me on my spelling and punctuation but I dont like my spell check.I prefer to rely on my 3rd grade gold star in the spelling bee as my guide.Hope the dizzy spells were an abberation and not a symptom of something larger.I did like the post about the tennis memory but I am not a tennis fan.As a matter of fact I do believe I was one of those guys who used to taunt the Tennis and golf teams as i played baseball[very well]football[not bad QB] and horrible basketball player[step-dad was coach]but loved the column anyway.
So have you tried the chicken lips while you’re in China, Joe? Can’t get ‘em here so if you’re ever going to have ‘em…
My vote also goes to spend time w/your family instead of Springsteen. For one thing, you’ll be so tired a concert would be an endurance test you won’t want to attempt. For another, Mike from DC is right; those girls will grow up waaaaay too fast.
I’ve always thought that Federe was like Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan or Wayne Gretzky, in that you wanted to see them win because of how amazing it would be to watch. You knew you’d see feats that you wouldn’t see if anyone else were playing. I’ve always wondered how it would feel to be beaten by Federer, wouldn’t you have to just laugh? He’d be hitting shots that are impossible and making it look effortless, like the whole rally was just a prelude for him hiting that one absurd angle. You couldn’t get frustrated, he’s making up new rules on the spot, what chance do you have? Enjoy yourself!
Everytime I watch Federer-Nadal I’m reminded of those same kids that I used to play, who get to everything, lobbed, punched, pushed, and made you less interested in winning and more interested in hitting them with a ball. As you perfectly described, Nadal is that kid, or kids, only suped-up.
Nicholson’s Joker watching tennis: “I have given a name to my pain, and it is Nadal.” Thank you for another story from my youth that you’ve told better than I could ever have.
Graham… That’s ME (well, like me). I was the kid who was slow, out of shape, but hit a beautiful topspin forehand. I got up to #2 on my HS team, but couldn’t crack the #1 player… a Manish type. Obviously playing #1 he could hold the racquet and had the ability to place the ball a little with a little pace, but his total game was defense. He placed the ball just well enough that you had to hit 2 or 3 nice shots to hit a winner, but he rarely gave you an opening, and you couldn’t just blast him at net or he was good enough to place a ball right past you. But his Tennis was not at all graceful and when you’d been playing the game and taking lessons since you were 10, and this kid who only started playing in 9th grade keeps beating you, well, it hurts.
I can relate at some level with Federer. In fact, I was always a big Ivan Lendl fan growing up because I could translate my game into his: strong baseline player, fair (at best) at net, and wasn’t really that athletic. Nadal… I can’t even imagine how to play the game the way he does. I’ve tried to hit a forehand with his grip, and almost broke my wrist!!
Joe, you gotta start swinging the racquet again. There are open tennis courts all over the US, just waiting for people to get out there and play. I’ve started networking again, and I’m giving my son lessons, and I feel so much better… How many people who played HS football are still playing football into their 30’s and 40’s??? Not many!!! But just about everyone who played HS tennis can still get out there and swing their racquet!! Joe, give it a try. Call your local club and find a clinic.. Get out there! You’ll regret all the tennis you’ve been missing!
“I’m fascinated by the question of what kind of guys we root for.”
Yeah, me too. I always root for cerebral guys, whether they have great natural ability or not.
Love Maddux, always liked David Cone, love watching Peyton Manning. I always enjoy the Banny Log on this blog. Bill Bradley is before my time but I like watching film of those old Knicks teams. Jerry Bailey was a great thinking jockey for any of you who care about horse racing. Tiger is like that of course but he’s SO good I can’t identify with him.
I get a kick out of “see ball, hit ball” guys like Manny Ramirez too but it’s not the same. It’s always the thinkers that I want to follow more closely.
“And yet Atlanta took the Olympic track stadium and converted it to a baseball stadium. So you’d think London could convert a baseball stadium into a soccer stadium or cricket field.”
Sure they could, but that would cost even more money, and by all reports, London is very very very worried over how much it’s going to cost to host the Olympics.
Also, every soccer and cricket team in the vicinity of London already has a kick-ass stadium, so it’s doubtful they’d really find any useful purpose for it, other than a saturday afternoon pickup game or something.
There really is no other reason than that London doesn’t want to build 2 stadiums they won’t use.
Rogges had already said that though baseball and softball would be canned for 2012, they could apply for reinstatement in 2016. What? If you think the sport doesn’t belong, why can it come back in 2016?
This is just disgusting politics that rape the world’s greatest sport. If a city can’t afford to build the stadiums required for all the hosted sports, DON’T GIVE IT THE OLYMPICS.
The current IOC is full of nothing but wastes of air.
I think it’s the IOC sticking it to baseball over the steroid issue, and softball got caught in a crossfire that it doesn’t understand.
The criteria for a sport being part of the Olympics are not particularly well defined, being more guidelines for discussion than codes to obey. Baseball qualifies on the geographical spread count — it’s a major sport in North America, parts of South America and Asia and is also played to some extent in Europe, Australia and other places — but not a lot else.
I think the major factor against it is the gulf between the world’s best players and the competitors who turn up at the Olympics. Soccer, for instance, also has a disparity with the Olympics being contested by national under-23 teams — which puts it a few steps below the World Cup. But each team is allowed two “extras”, which results in someone like Ronaldinho, rated somewhere in the top five players globally, turning out for Brazil. Other major professional sports send their best — basketball is stacked with world class performers, cycling has competitors coming from the Tour de France, and tennis sends Grand Slam winners.
By sending nothing but minor leaguers, baseball effectively thumbs its nose at the IOC, who understandably take offence.
Basically, a sport has to have the Olympics as its pinnacle of achievement or send competitors who’ve competed at the highest level. Baseball does neither.
I’m reminded of the famous lines from the first episode of “The Mary Tyler Moore” show: Lou Grant: “You got spunk. I hate spunk.” Well, I hate scrappy, because it seems racist to me. The next black player I hear called scrappy will be the first. It seems that scrappy is an artificial label given to players who probably aren’t as good as replacement players waiting in the minors, but will definitely give some intangibles that justify why the white guy is starting. Maybe the intangibles are semi-tangibles, like high fielding percentage, but I’d rather have the guy with the higher range factor.
My example is Willie Randolph. Nobody ever called him scrappy. But why not? He was a good percentage base stealer (typical of scrappy). And he made the greatest defensive play I’ve ever seen by an infielder, in medium right field.
Late in Randolph’s career, he was with the Dodgers. They employed a converted first baseman, Mike Marshall, in right field, probably because Marshall was slightly less slow than a very old Eddie Murray. Because Marshall was slow, he tended to play deep, to have a better chance of cutting off line drives; he did have a decent enough arm to at least make the average runners hold on first. And one left handed slugger (I want to say Strawberry, but I honestly don’t remember anything about that game except this play) took a mighty swing, and lofted a high fly ball to medium right field, right to where a normally placed right fielder would have been positioned, or maybe a few steps in on a slugger like Straw. Marshall was fooled completely by the swing, and broke back on the ball, preparing to climb the bullpen gate to keep the dinger in the park, no doubt. Randolph, with the bases empty, broke out on the ball, and with both the ball and Marshall in front of him, saw Marshall running the wrong way, and so Randolph kept on running, and running, and running.
In medium right field, running full speed the whole way with his back to the infield, Randolph desperately lunged for the ball, barely got it inside his glove, for the greatest catch ever made by an infielder. Randolph took one step. He took two steps. And then Mike Marshall, who had recovered from his expedition to the warning track, charged into Randolph full speed and knocked Randolph down and the ball loose.
The batter wound up on third. The official scorer, seeing no recourse (ball in the glove, then dropped) charged Randolph with an error, but wiser minds prevailed on him to let Randolph off the hook and rule it a triple. They couldn’t persuade him to give Marshall the error, since Marshall had never gloved the ball. Randolph lay on the grass for a while, hoping that somebody had gotten the license plate of the truck that had hit him. And then Randolph got up and finished the game. And that *should* be scrappy. But nobody ever called Randolph scrappy, and I contend it’s because he was a) too good and b) not white.
But I digress. Scrappy to me is a way the team justifies playing a below average ballplayer because he is consistent, reliable, a known factor. Scrappy ballplayers don’t help teams win many games, but they also don’t cost the teams many unexpected losses. They don’t cause the manager ulcers from stupid plays as they get their low OPS+ numbers, because managers don’t get ulcers from outs, only plays that should have been made. And in the case of Scrappy David Eckstein (who is listed as four pounds heavier than Willie Randolph, is not as good a base stealer as Randolph, is nowhere near as good a second baseman as Randolph was but has managed to stay at shortstop, has a post season OPS under .700 but people think he’s a gamer in the playoffs) it’s a joke. There are a dozen minor league shortstops who cannot hit as well as Scrappy Eckstein but will save far more runs with their glove than their bats cost them, and in so doing also save the pitchers a lot of outs, maybe keep the bullpen a little fresher, maybe enable worse pitchers to not have to pitch as often.
You want to know why the Cardinals are doing so well? Part of it is they swapped scrappy David Eckstein for not scrappy Cesar Izturis. They went from below average at OPS+ to downright lousy at OPS+. But they picked up a ton of range factor at the most important position on the field, which translates into more outs for the pitchers and a healthier pitching staff (which for a team with three rotation guys on the DL was huge), and they also picked up some excellent speed (16/4) instead of not much speed at all (2/1). One out of every eight games or so Eckstein gets on base once when Izturis makes out. But more than seven out of every eight games Izturis reaches a ball Eckstein doesn’t reach. The difference in range factor is so huge that Eckstein would need to get on base like Barry Bonds to compensate for it.
I mean, in this day and age, the numbers are right there at: http://www.baseball-reference.com/i/izturce01.shtml and we can see that over nine innings Izturis reaches almost 1/2 more balls than the average shortstop and way more than Eckstein. Call it an extra 78 balls reached per season. Call it an extra 75 outs (some will be double plays, but what the heck). For a guy with 600 plate appearances, that’s the defensive equivalent of .125 points of on base percentage. Add .125 to Izturis’s .320 OBP and it’s .445, .090 higher than Eckstein. Who looks more valuable now? Say, maybe we *can* quantify defensive wizards for HOF consideration!
Sure, we all know the value of plays made (offensive and defensive) within the context of a team. Eckstein is pretty good at getting on base for a middle infielder. For a team that needs a decent OBP guy he is worth more; more good hitters help the rest of the team’s offense. But he hurts their defense, forcing the pitchers to wear out sooner. And given that these numbers are right there, not hard to find for free, let alone for a team with the resources of any major league club, why are there scrappy players still hurting teams? Heck, the Angels have two decent fielding shortstops (Ayber and Maicer Izturis) who are clearly and easily shown to be more valuable than Eckstein. In fact, people wonder why the Angels have the best record in baseball despite their Pythag numbers, despite Lackey missing half the season so far and Escobar the whole season, and I’ll tell you: the Angels have tremendous defense, which means the whole pitching staff needs fewer pitchers, thus in all the close games they use their good pitchers, and the bad pitchers only have to come in (and make things worse) in the losses. Their good pitchers stay fresh from extra outs made, so they win the close games because they are using better pitchers in almost all the close games. And notice: the Angels had Eckstein and didn’t keep him.
There are lots of good fielders out there. Note the Dodgers got Angel Berroa for next to nothing from KC; with the Dodgers he is fielding .031 better Rf9 than the NL average. Maybe that’s better than expected for Berroa, maybe not; he’s certainly not hitting. Berroa over Eckstein is roughly four more plays made per six games. Eckstein over Berroa is roughly three more times on base per six games. Berroa also makes fewer errors, but Eckstein’s “bat” is worth something with his slugging percentage also. The thing is, Eckstein was given a roster spot. Berroa needed injuries to Furcal and Nomar and the failure of Chin-Lung Hu to hit to be given his major league roster spot. So maybe the Jays (and their anti-Dunn idiocy) really just don’t understand how to use statistics.
Heck, looking at Hu, maybe the Dodgers really did make a mistake. His Rf9 was almost half a run a game better than league average, and with 115 chances at shortstop he made zero errors. ZERO! So over 150 games that means he reaches about 75 more balls and also makes about 14 fewer errors. That’s worth about 145 points of OBP, which would put him at about .364 based on his crappy hitting this year. So maybe the Dodgers didn’t need to trade for Berroa. That doesn’t explain the Blue Jays, or even the Royals.
I don’t want to rag on Eckstein overly much. Any major leaguer who gets on base .350 or higher and plays in the middle of the field has some value. And he *is* a smart player, played shortstop for two World Series winners, seems to have a lot of intangibles. But I’m not convinced that Eckstein is more valuable than Berroa (even admitting that Berroa is fielding better than expected), and I’m sure that Eckstein isn’t as valuable as Cesar Izturis. But boy, is he worth more than Tony Pena. How a guy with below average range and fielding percentages and an OPS+ of 2 managed to drive out Angel Berroa is beyond me. Must be Super Scrappy, I guess.
That “what’s the point?” feeling you describe, I know it well. I didn’t see the match you mentioned, but I DID see a women’s Olympic badminton match between China and, I think, Malaysia (?). Anyway, the Malysian (?) had the very same “what’s the point” expression on her face the entire match…
Lets be honest here, this blog is a large collection of geeks and nerds and other non-prom king losers of one form or another. And the fact that Joe lost to Manesh, is of little consequence. You are supposed to lose Manesh particularly the first time, maybe even the second time. But after you lose to Manesh the third time, it is time for you to turn in your JoePo blog card and retire to something less difficult than keeping up with the Jones (and Whites and James…) Why is it that after I lose to the proverbial Manesh a third time do I have to turn in my JoePo blog card you ask, well the answer is simple. Manesh has one game to play, and has no other physical skills to change to if it is not working out. Don’t you think that just once in a while he would hit a topspin passing shot if he could? Now, the more talented player adapts and overcomes Manesh, he takes a little off the ball so to keep it in the court, he only tries to hit Manesh if Manesh is standing really close to the net on a short ball. You have to out-Manesh Manesh. Let him know that you will run down every shot and hit it back, hit a short ball and go back to the baseline so that it nullifies his lob, if you are at the net and Manesh lobs and your overhead has been inconsistent, you let it bounce and hit your nice topspin forehand, when he runs that down in the corner and lobs again, you dink it back over the net ten feet inside the service line and watch him run. Then you just repeat. Adapt and overcome. Manesh will wilt, I have seen it before. Or Manesh will try to play the power game and whip out his big serve and topspin forehand. Now if his big serve would go in and his topspin forehand consistent, he would have used them to begin with. Thus Manesh losses either way to the more talented player. My personal favorite is when you double bounce a ball to Manesh (hit a ball short, that he thinks will have enough pace to get to him, but instead dies, and he is stuck thinking of all the balls he has run down today, this short ball was completely available to him, but his brain didn’t let him get to it. Adapt and overcome. It is a good life lesson.
By the way, you can ONLY hit Manesh with the ball if he is also a jerk and deserves to get hit by the ball. Then by all means…
Mike from DC, thank you very much for snickering at us ‘tennis and golf’ losers as you went to Football and baseball and basketball practice. We were snickering at you too, because while you thought we were unathletic and unpopular, we thought you were arrogant and stupid, and we won’t be lined up to have our knees, shoulders and hips replaced when we are fifty. In fact, we are only twenty pounds heavier than high school, because we still have sports to play, unlike you, who sit around and watch sports and bore everyone with the details of when you used to play, and how you could have gone pro if only…
Despite moments of respite, a tennis player needs the strength of a shot putter, the endurance of a marathoner, the grace of a ballerina, and the precision of a surgeon. During a match a pro might swelter in the sun for four hours, hit three thousand balls, and run ten miles.
You show me a guy who is good at tennis and I will show you a guy who is good at any sport.
If you have followed tennis over the years, you remember Jim Courier. He was a terrific player, who sort of lost his passion and dedication for the game at the end of his career. He retired at age 25 or something like that. He was also a big baseball fan (Cinncinati Reds) and loved playing baseball when he was a kid. Can you imagine a man who was number 1 in the world in tennis, walking onto a baseball field and getting professional instruction? I think we would have been a gold glove fielder in about 15 practices, and he had a rocket arm, with pin point control. But could he hit a curveball? To be the number one player in the world, and return the serves that were hit at him at 120mph+, I think yeah, probably he hit a curveball. I plan to write a work of fiction about this very scenario someday.
MIB:
Well, there are two ways to beat Manesh (or me) – one, actually get a majority of your winners IN, as I said above. But yes, you can also out-Manesh Manesh. This is harder than you think, though.
See, the thing about playing like Manesh is that you know this is your game. And to play it, you have to be prepared to sit there and do it all day. Don’t give in to the big shot, just get it back time and time again and wait for the other person to get fed up. You’re quite right that someone with better overall skills should be able to last longer, but you can make points go on for an awfully long time if neither person’s willing to hit winners, and so what it really comes down to is who’s got more mental stamina. Generally speaking, the person who’s better – whose game this is not – hasn’t mentally trained themselves to play a whole match of dinking and dunking the ball (and they can, actually, be more prone to make errors this way despite their superior skills, since they’re out of their comfort zone in terms of how they usually play in matches). So they’re often not capable of out-Maneshing Manesh.
Clearly, you know what you’re doing, but it isn’t quite as easy (for most people) as you make it out to be. Trust me, a lot of people tried to do that to me in high school. A few of them could beat me at my own game, but those were very rare – I lost a LOT more games to people who were hitting winners than I did to people who tried to beat me at my own game. I beat most of the latter.