I remember watching Novak Djokovic, or 'Nole,' for the first time in 2007. The young Serbian, all of 20 years old, was confident and let people know about it.
He unleashed Tiger Woods fist pumps after, it seemed, every winner he hit. He yelled at himself and gesticulated toward his box after every shot he dumped into the net.
He had all the talent in the world — that wasn't hard to see — but his mind wasn't calibrated to win championships, to defeat the rock-solid Roger Federer in his prime.
So even as I watched Djokovic exchange forehand for forehand and big serve for big serve against Federer in the 2007 U.S. Open final, the outcome was inevitable.
Roger Federer def. Novak Djokovic 7-6 (4), 7-6 (2), 6-4.
Fast forward five years and four months.
Djokovic was having similar issues. He had outplayed Andy Murray for most of the Australian Open championship's first set, but had failed to capitalize on any of five break point opportunities. In the tiebreak, he had fallen apart. First, he had double-faulted. Then came four unforced errors, yelling at himself, and, very quickly, a lost set.
The break between sets hadn't helped. On serve down 0-1 in the second, Djokovic now faced three break points, the match seemingly, already, hanging in the balance. But this moment showed just how much he's matured, how he's learned to become a multiple-time grand slam champion against the world's best.
Djokovic outlasted Murray during the ensuing rallies to stave off the points, got a huge forehand winner down the line for the advantage, and then claimed the crucial game.
He would only face one more break point the entire 3-hour, 40-minute match — and save that one too.
By the fourth set, Djokovic was cruising, moving around the court like a gazelle, barely breathing as the more-than-game Scot labored from a bloody blister and what appeared to be an aching backside. This also spoke to how far Djokovic has come as a big-match player. He got better as the night wore on. His serves became bigger; his ground strokes crisper; and he played incredibly efficient at the net — not a talked-about strength of his — where he converted 35 of 41 points.
Novak Djokovic def. Andy Murry 6-7 (2), 7-6 (3), 6-3, 6-2.
Let me introduce you to Novak Djokovic:
Six-time grand slam winner.
Four-time Australia Open winner, including an Open-era record three in a row.
The undisputed world No. 1.
Even when Djokovic won his first Aussie Open in 2008, he was young and immature. He didn't gain a lot of friends on tour by making a habit of performing crowd-pleasing imitations of other players. He was playful but also acerbic, incredibly talented and hard-working, but raw.
For three years, Djokovic remained stuck in the world's No. 3 slot, not that there was anything wrong with that. He was behind two of the greatest who have ever played the game — Federer and Rafael Nadal. Still, he gained a not-good reputation of retiring from matches. He advanced deep in many tournaments, but couldn't finish them. He failed to advance past the quarterfinals of any of the 2009 majors before losing to Federer in the semis at the U.S. Open in a match similar to their '07 meeting.
Djokovic's 2010 season wasn't all that different from '09 — at least at the grand slams — until his epic, unleash-the-forehand-on-match-point win over Federer in the semifinal rematch at the U.S. Open. Until that match, you still couldn't put the Serbian on the same level as the Great Two. But then he won that match. Then he gained a real swagger, a real belief.
And, well, Djokovic's 2011 season was, as 14-time major champion Pete Sampras said, "One of the best achievements in all of sports."
Since that epic, three-major-winning year, Djokovic has had to share victories with his Big Four companions. After all, Nadal, when healthy, still owns the French; Federer, ever the stubborn champion, refuses to take his 17 majors, two kids and wife and build himself a white picket fence; and Murray, born a week before Djokovic, is as tough of an opponent as ever after getting that first-grand-slam monkey off his back at September's U.S. Open.
But the least amount of question marks surround Djokovic and his half dozen majors. He's still young at 25 unlike Federer, 31; he's healthy unlike Nadal, who's been sidelined since last June with his knee injury; and Murray, while playing very impressive of late, still has shown the ability to win a major just once.
After that '08 title, during the drought years of '09 and '10, the question was asked about Djokovic: Was he just a one-hit wonder? Now, of course, that seems silly but will be asked about Murray until he wins more titles. Which will likely mean going through the man who outlasted him Sunday night in Melbourne.
Djokovic's antics can still seem a bit outrageous on center court. After outlasting Stan Wawrinka in a memorable five-set match earlier in the tournament, he tore off his shirt in celebration.
But the key difference is when that behavior is on display — after he's won another match.
As for the matches themselves, Djokovic is focused, honed in, and as rock-solid a No. 1 player in the world as you can have.
This Tuesday, some 10,000 miles away from this country in Melbourne, Australia (where it will be Wednesday), the current queen of women’s tennis will meet the next great American hope.
Many Americans probably won’t see the match between Serena Williams and Sloane Stephens. It will likely occur late at night — or early in the morning — here in the States.
Heck, many Americans probably don’t know about Stephens (I’ll admit it; I wasn’t aware of the 19-year-old until this tournament).
If they follow tennis, they will soon.
Stephens will not beat Williams in this Australian Open matchup, her first quarterfinal at a Grand Slam tournament. It won’t happen. Not against arguably the greatest women’s player of ALL TIME. Not against a 31-year-old Williams who has only dropped a single match since last May’s French Open. Not against a player so dominant that she won singles and doubles titles at Wimbledon, Olympic Gold in singles and doubles, and the U.S. Open — all in two months.
No, Serena Williams is too dominant, too powerful, too everything.
But make no mistake about it — when it comes to U.S. women’s tennis, Sloane Stephens has got next.
And that next isn’t far off.
This blog is about the precocious youngster with the huge forehand and bubbly personality (descriptions, coincidentally, that you could apply to a certain American player also mentioned in this post).
Let me first provide a paragraph on where the Plantation, Fla., native stands today:
Stephens, at No. 25, is the lone teenager in the Women’s Tennis Association’s top 50. After her three-set Round of 16 victory over Bojana Jovanovski, she’s guaranteed a spot in the top 20. And she’s also the second-highest ranked American behind you know who.
Only one American not named a Williams has reached a Grand Slam quarterfinal in the past handful of years. That was Melanie Oudin at the 2009 U.S. Open. How’s Oudin faring now? She’s ranked 84th and hasn’t advanced past the second round of a major since.
So why am I so high on Stephens? What’s to say she won’t become another Oudin?
Because of the similarities to Williams, that’s why. Yes, it’s a convenient comparison. The young, black, strong American player with an energetic, full-of-life personality.
But if you watch Stephens on the court, you can see it, too, even if her development is far from complete. I saw it in the final, tense moments of her 6-1, 3-6, 7-5 victory over Jovanovski.
The 21-year-old Serb took over the match in the second set, grunting and outmuscling Stephens, who became passive and stuck on the baseline. After Stephens dumped a forehand into the net to get broken and fall behind 0-2 in the final set, it would have been easy to dismiss the, yes, 19-year-old. The pressure, it could be said, was getting to her.
But down 1-3, Stephens found a switch that you wouldn’t expect such a young player to possess, suddenly unleashing a barrage of laser forehands to win eight straight points and knot the set at 3-3. With the set tied at 5-5 and Jovanovski serving at 0-15, Stephens again pounded an impeccable, impossible-to-return forehand down the line that, seemingly, rattled the resilient Serb.
She broke a minute later, 6-5.
In the final game, Stephens appeared on her heels as she served down 15-30. Jovanovski was pounding forehands left and right. But in an example of her versatility — of her burgeoning ability to win points in different fashions — Stephens showed Novak Djokovic-like defense and outlasted Jovanovski to tie the game.
A minute later, Stephens was breathing a sigh of relief as she gave her post-match interview — her date with Williams secured.
"I'm sure my mother's had like four heart attacks," Stephens joked of the match. "I hope my Grandpa didn't have to put my Grandma to bed, because she gets a little worried."
All kidding aside, Stephens has a chance to be great because not only does she have the physical ability, but she has the right personality, too, to succeed on tour — to slug out the tough matches. She’s already mature beyond her years.
Stephens conceded that Jovanovski’s play had her out of rhythm, but she added that “sometimes you just kind of got to stick it out, and hopefully she comes down off her throne."
That’s veteran talk, not 19-year-old talk.
Stephens doesn’t lose her cool on the court, but she also knows when she needs an emotional boost. After breaking Jovanovski to get to 1-2, Stephens allowed herself a few mini fistpumps and “Come on!”s. She is far from stoic on the court.
OK, reality check time. Did I mention that Stephens will not beat Williams tomorrow? She met the 15-time Grand Slam winner in a Brisbane exhibition earlier this month and put up a fight, falling 6-4, 6-3. As all-time great and current ESPN analyst Chris Evert said, “Once they get into a rally … I think she can stay with her.”
Of course, that statement came after Evert talked about Williams’ dominant serve, which is the biggest advantage — besides experience — she has on Stephens. In her dominant 6-2, 6-0 dispatching of Maria Kirilenko, Williams had a first-serve percentage of 95 percent in the first set. That’s unbeatable. That’s a reason Williams has won 20 consecutive matches.
So there’s a reason I’m writing this before the match. The action on the court could look ugly for Stephens. Her nerves could play a factor. Mostly, her opponent will.
Rather, this writing should serve — pun intended — as a sign of what American tennis fans can hope for, and anticipate, going forward as Williams’ historic career winds down.
The women’s game, as we’ve witnessed over the last handful of years, is wide open when Williams isn’t playing. It’s a crapshoot. Maria Sharapova, 25, has overcome injury and reemerged as one of the sport’s premier players — having won the career grand slam and playing her best tennis. Victoria Azarenka, 23, won this tournament a year ago and took Williams to the brink of defeat at the U.S. Open in September. But neither player is as dominant as Williams. Neither player will dominate the tour like Williams has or be an indomitable roadblock in front of Stephens like Roger Federer was for Andy Roddick during the American’s best years.
The next great American hope is in the process of arriving, sports fans.
And she’s a joy to watch.
He didn't say it publicly on Twitter, but Zach Novak must have been going crazy during the first half of Michigan's game against Ohio State Sunday.
The former Wolverine and current professional player in the Netherlands was probably thinking the same thing as many Michigan fans as his alma mater and No. 2 team in the country committed turnover after turnover — looking completely discombobulated and out of sorts as the 15th-ranked Buckeyes raced out to a 29-8 lead Sunday in Columbus.
He probably also wished he could be on the court and in the Michigan huddle.
The Wolverines (16-1) sure could have used his leadership.
And therein lies the only glaring weakness for this talent-rich team that came one Sunday afternoon win — and one in-and-out 3-pointer — away from grabbing the No. 1 ranking in the country, falling instead to an experienced Ohio State squad, 56-53.
Zero.
That's the number of minutes played by Michigan seniors Sunday.
Ninety-nine.
That's how many minutes Michigan freshmen logged.
It didn't help that the Wolverines' best player — and national player of the year candidate — Trey Burke clearly did what he said he wouldn't, making the game in his hometown personal. Burke, who over the previous 10 games dished out 82 assists to 10 turnovers (absurdly good), forced shots and drives all day. The sophomore has been anointed Michigan's leader, and rightfully so considering the level he was playing at entering Sunday.
His leadership against the Buckeyes won't be featured in any books or seminars, that's for sure.
At this stage in the season, the Wolverines — even as supremely talented as they are — face two challenges:
1. Who will step into the role Novak — and to a lesser extent, Stu Douglass — excelled in last year, providing invaluable leadership in team huddles, keeping the team calm in hostile road environments?
2. Will the Big Ten's youngest team learn from this experience and be ready for the difficult environments the brutal conference schedule will present? Or will their youth continue to show?
I predicted before the season that the Wolverines would go undefeated in the nonconference portion of the schedule and 13-5 in the Big Ten. I stand by my prognostication. Winning on the road in this league is no easy thing; there's a reason the Vegas oddsmakers had the Buckeyes, with three losses, favored by a point and a half over the undefeated Wolverines.
The answer to the first question, though, is a bit of a mystery. Burke has worked on becoming more vocal — if not as in-your-face as the spirited Novak — and Hardaway has improved in this area, too.
I tend to think Sunday was an aberration for Burke, who lets his emotions get the best of him playing in Columbus. There won't be many more games where his turnovers equal his made field goals.
I also don't think we'll see a 15-minute stretch as ugly as the opening of this game, when the Wolverines were clearly rattled by the Buckeyes' perimeter-pressuring defense. Eight turnovers in the first 10 minutes and not reaching double figures until the 6-minute mark of the opening period are not part of the recipe for road success in the country's toughest league.
Freshman Glenn Robinson looked out of sorts early. Freshman Caris Lavert made a horrible pass that led to an Ohio State dunk. Even more surprisingly, Hardaway Jr. was indecisive, getting caught up in the air a few times instead of making strong moves to the basket like he had done all season.
And yet Michigan came thisclose to stealing a game in which it often looked lost. Much of the Wolverines' second-half performance showed why John Beilein and his staff are so good at their jobs. Gone were the layups the Buckeyes got during the first half when the over-eager Wolverines overplayed their men on the perimeter.
Ohio State scored just 22 second-half points on 31 possessions. That's rock-solid defense.
But after the Wolverines tied the game at 46 with 6 minutes remaining, they got 3 happy — attempting eight shots from beyond the arc as opposed to just a pair of twos down the stretch. And while Burke's final attempt wasn't a bad shot — in crunch time, you want your POY candidate launching the potential game-winner — the possessions that preceded the shot are what ultimately doomed the nation's last undefeated team.
Chalk up the lack of ball movement, the paucity of sharing the ball — something the Wolverines had done so well all season — to lack of experience and leadership, the qualities any squad regardless of talent needs to win against a good team on the road.
We won't have to wait long to see how Michigan learns from Sunday's experience. When they travel to Minnesota Thursday night, they'll be playing in a more hostile environment (The Barn) against an even better and much more explosive Gophers team.
This is just the beginning of a long grind for this young, talented team. And there will be more losses. Of that, I'm positive.
But if the Wolverines receive improved leadership from their older — but still young — players and learn from days like Sunday, they'll be in great position come early March to make this a very special season.
I, like millions of others, will be tuned in tonight when Alabama and Notre Dame play in the de facto -- if not fair -- national championship game.
Why? Because I love the game of football. And I love watching it on its grandest stages. As far as the college game is concerned, it doesn't get any bigger than tonight: two storied programs from very different parts of the country clashing on center stage. I don't miss big games. Never have. Probably never will.
But I will be viewing my TV through vastly different viewing goggles than even two years ago -- and this has nothing to do with the brew, or two, I might consume while nestled in my couch.
It's all about how I view the game of football.
Last night, I watched the documentary "Head Games," directed and produced by award-winner Steve James (Hoop Dreams, anyone?). The 90-minute film does an excellent job of delving into the world of violent sports -- football and hockey, primarily; the science behind head injuries; the studies, past and present, that are discovering more and more about the potentially devastating effects of head injuries; and the people affected by head injuries but also conflicted about them.
For instance, knowing the damage that football hits to the head can cause, would you let your son play the sport?
I don't have children and don't expect to for a long time -- when more research would undoubtedly help any decision -- but today, right now, my answer would be unequivocally no.
There are so many things to love about football: The drama of a close game in the fourth quarter; the creativity and ingenuity behind the "play call," which fans then get to criticize or laud after each game; the juke; the diving catch; the trick play; I could go on and on.
One thing I no longer love is the "big hit," or as announcers might rave, "The BONE-JARRING HIT!"
Anytime I see a safety lay out a defenseless receiver, I cringe. Whenever a quarterback gets pummeled by a blitzing linebacker, I wince. Call me weak if you want -- and often times that player will bounce back up -- but what you don't see is the long-term damage that hit might have caused.
Did you know that:
- A 2009 University of Michigan study found that retired NFL players ages 30-49 were 19 times more likely than members of the general population to be diagnosed with Dementia.
- Despite new rules in the NFL and at other levels of the sport, hundreds of concussions still go unreported and it's estimated that 50 percent of football players sustain concussions.
- According to research done by Boston University, 50 former football players had chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), "a degenerative brain disorder linked to memory loss, depression and dementia" that can't be detected until a brain is examined after death.
CTE has been linked to the suicides of former "tough guys" we revered on the gridiron -- among them Andre Waters, Mike Webster, and University of Pennsylvania football player Owen Thomas, who committed suicide at age 21.
More research is being done and there is nothing definitive, but the conclusions medical experts at Boston University have come to include this:
CTE can result not from the huge hits fans often celebrate when they see on TV, but from the cumulative effect of hundreds of hits taken during practices and games.
According to Robert C. Cantu, a co-director of BU's Center for the Study of Traumatic Encephalopathy and a senior adviser to the NFL on concussions, who is featured in the film:
"We believe that this is a dose-related phenomenon -- not just to concussions but total brain trauma. So clearly there's a relation to how many hits you've taken, and that does correlate with how long you played."
Cantu added that "collision sports should not be played under the age of 14 ... in particular, take hits to the head out of it."
It's worth noting that this is not an issue brought to the spotlight by doctors eager for publicity. "Head Games" is based on the book "Head Games," written by former Ivy League football star and WWE wrestler Chris Nowinski, who realized during his time taking punishing hits to the head in the ring that he was literally losing his mind.
During one wrestling match he references in the film, Nowinski completely forgot the script and where he was. That scared him into giving up the sport. And soon after, the Harvard graduate began digging deeper into the issue of concussions and contact sports.
Football fans, like I was, are desensitized to such things. They'd rather celebrate a great hit or chalk off a woozy player being helped off the field as "a part of the game." Others will say that injuries happen in all sports, or that you can sustain a head injury just as easily riding a bike (a flat-out silly argument).
NBC sportscaster Bob Costas, who is part of the NBC Sunday Night Football broadcast team, puts the sport in the proper perspective:
"In most other sports, the chance of injury is incidental. In football, the chance of injury and long-term serious effects is fundamental. And no honest person can watch this sport and not acknowledge that."
For me, being aware of just how dangerous and vicious football is has made me less of a fan. I'd rather watch basketball and baseball.
Some like to say, "I didn't make the choice to play football. They did." Many people, when watching, like to dehumanize the helmeted figures on the field. I guess it makes it a lot easier to watch the butting of heads when you're not thinking of the person's head inside that strapped mask.
But I can't do that. At least not any longer. I know I was far from the only person that cringed when Robert Griffin III went down for the last time yesterday during the Redskins' playoff loss to the Seahawks, his knee seemingly buckling beneath him.
Where's the cringing when offensive linemen butt heads with their counterparts each play?
There is none, obviously, because we're not seeing the potential damage being done.
By the time retired players are struggling to remember the months of the year -- there's a depressing scene in the film when a former player can't name them sequentially -- we're celebrating the newest batch of battlefield entertainers, the struggling ones relegated to bar stool conversations (or completely forgotten).
Am I completely shunning football?
No way. I still love the game. There aren't many things better than a Michigan game day at the Big House or a perfectly executed flea flicker.
But it's dropped down my list of favorite sports, and there are aspects of it that I won't allow myself to celebrate like I used to. I won't allow myself to clap for the battering of human lives, whether on the football field or elsewhere.
