Can Andy Murray deliver on the biggest of stages?

Andy Murray is only 25. If healthy, the Brit will likely play in dozens of more majors — well after the great Roger Federer has laced up his shoes for a final time. 

But 25 in tennis isn't 25 in baseball; Rafael Nadal, 26, and Novak Djokovic, 25, aren't going anywhere; and from somewhere, you have to figure, new young hotshots are close to bursting through on the tour to, at the very least, win a few big matches and put a scare into the big boys.

Which is why, this Wimbledon is Murray's LeBron James moment. 

(I promise: This won't be a post full of Murray-LeBron comparisons, because that would be nonsensical; a basketball and tennis player only have so much in common.)

With each major that Murray fails to win, the pressure only grows. By now, any tennis fan knows what's at stake — despite being the birthplace of tennis, Great Britain hasn't produced a Grand Slam winner since the great Fred Perry (eight titles) won at the All England Club in 1936. 

That's 76 years and counting.

Murray, at the moment, is the country's greatest — and lone — hope. Like LeBron (oops, rule broken), he's shouldered incredible pressure since emerging on tour about five years ago. Unlike LeBron, he can't take his talents to South Beach.

Rather, Murray is faced with the challenge of believing in himself against the world's best; of pushing himself to a place he's never been. The physical tools are there — the powerful serve, the consistent ground strokes, the ability to finish points at the net.

But to this point, Murray has wilted on the biggest of stages.

He's played in three Grand Slam finals and failed to win a set, succumbing to Federer twice and Djokovic once. He didn't show much life in any of the three matches. Similarly, he's lost in six major semifinals to the Big Three, and only once — in this year's Aussie Open, when he fell to Djokovic — has he pushed his opponent to the brink.

In Wednesday's quarterfinal victory (6-7, 7-6, 6-4, 7-6) over the "Little Beast" David Ferrer, Murray showed the type of resolve he'll absolutely need for the entirety of a match if he's to break through this weekend and win that elusive Grand Slam over Federer or Djokovic (first, of course, he has to face Jo-Wilfried Tsonga Friday in the semifinals). 

Murray displayed toughness, grit and a bounce-back ability that, to be frank, has usually been the separating factor between the Big Three (32 major titles between them) and him. 

After dropping the first set in a tiebreaker, which had me groaning, "Oh, typical Murray; can't win the big points," the Brit found himself down 5-2 in the second set tiebreaker. He stood two points from being down two sets against a player in Ferrer whose motor never slows down. 

Instead, Murray responded with aggressive shot-making to take the tiebreaker 8-6. Match on.

The third set appeared headed for yet another tiebreaker, but with Ferrer serving at 4-4, Murray unleashed a pair of killer groundstrokes to break the Spaniard then served out the set at love. 

Killer instinct.

Against an opponent like Ferrer, Murray knew there would be no easy final set, and the players battled back and forth until the usual London rain delay halted play at 4-4. Leading up to the stoppage, Murray showed the let's-get-this-done attitude that he's carried all tournament, not wasting a second between points and throwing 130-mph serves to the inside and wide of Ferrer.

He wasn't in the mood for messing around, even up a set. A couple rounds earlier, Murray had done the same thing to finish off Marcos Baghdatis just a couple minutes after an 11p.m. "curfew" to finish play for the day.

In the final set tiebreak — what else? — Murray used all the strength he had left in his body, firing back-to-back aces up the middle to take a 4-3 lead. Leading 5-4, he then set up match point brilliantly with an array of groundstrokes to Ferrer's baseline before a steaming forehand winner up the line.

A point later, Murray left no doubt with his third ace of the tiebreak. 

After 4 hours on Centre Court, Murray raised his hands in triumph, but only for a fleeting moment. He'll save any big celebrations for Sunday.

Can he do it? That answer is impossible to know.

But with the pressure not going anywhere, Murray, an avid boxing fan, has displayed signs this fortnight of the package of jabs he needs to bring to center stage if he's going to knock out one of the Big Three and be toasted in England for many fortnights to come.

We are a witness to the Golden Age of men's tennis

Novak Djokovic doesn't have an explanation for it.


When asked how and why he's able to play his best tennis in the absolute most critical moments — those match points for the other guys — he smiles and often shakes his head.


"There really isn't any rational explanation or a word that can describe what you're supposed to do when you're match points down or when you're losing or very close to losing," Djokovic said Tuesday after rallying from down two sets to one to defeat Jo Wilfried-Tsonga. "It's trying to be mentally tough and believing in your shots. So, I don't want to be wise now and say, 'OK, I know how to play when I'm match points down,' because I said, there's no explanation."


Several players on tour can hit the shots that Djokovic unleashed to stave off match point not once, not twice but four times — on the practice court. Or during the middle of matches on relatively inconsequential points. 


But how many guys can completely unleash their best forehands, their hardest backhands, and their most punishing overhead rallies when if they're off by just a few inches, they're done, their tournament is over?


Not many.


What the world's No. 1 ranked player did on Tuesday is called greatness. 


But he wasn't the only one to show an incredible will and fortitude at Roland Garros. On the same chilly, rain-threatening day, Roger Federer, the man of 16 grand slam titles, found himself down two sets to none against the powerful, spry Juan Del Potro. 


Surely the 30-year-old wouldn't have enough energy — wouldn't have the legs — to win three consecutive sets from the 23-year-old, right? Del Potro had clearly outplayed him, taking the first set 6-3 and the second in a tiebreaker. 


Time to let the young gun have one, right? (Although a 20-year-old Del Potro did shock Federer in the 2009 U.S. Open final.) 


Instead, as we've seen on so many occasions, the Greatest of All Time (GOAT) responded with equal portions of poise and tenacity, giving the match a 180-degree turn and cruising to three straight sets, 6-2, 6-0, 6-3.


Greatness.


It's not a word that should be tossed around. It should be reserved for the very best in sports. And right now, in men's tennis, we are so lucky to be witnessing it. In fact, we've been a witness to it for the past seven or so years — when Rafael Nadal, who is putting together the most dominant French Open in tournament history, joined Federer on the podium of tennis' best winners, just elevated a few feet above the rest of the lot.


And that's the thing. Yes, the Big Three as I'll call them — after all, that's the theme this NBA postseason — are all very good, right now, at tennis. At the X's and O's, if you will. 


Federer's serve. Djokovic's killer forehand and drop-shot ability. Nadal's lateral movement and penchant for reaching any ball. 


But a lot of guys on tour can do those things. Especially when you talk about the aging Federer, who has been written off by many tennis folks at different junctures during the past two years. 


What separates the trio of men who have 32 Grand Slam titles between them is an innate ability to do exactly what Djokovic and Federer did, in different fashions, to stay alive on the clay Tuesday — perform at their highest level when their backs are against the wall. 


Think of Jordan's 1998 game-winner. Think of the Cardinals' two, two-out rallies in last year's Fall Classic (a World Series that actually deserved the name.) Think of Eli Manning's last-minute Super Bowl heroics.


Federer, Nadal and Djokovic have come up that big on myriad occasions. When trying to think of a "choke" job by any of them, all that comes to mind is when Federer slapped that easy forehand into the net, giving Nadal the 2008 Wimbledon title in arguably the greatest match ever played. 


How else can you explain Federer making an unreal 28 consecutive Grand Slam quarterfinals? In other words, winning at least four matches at tennis' biggest tournaments for seven years running. 


Until a year and a half ago, this greatness was a trait only shared by Federer and Nadal. There was no other way to explain why the extremely talented and hard-working Djokovic, almost Nadal's age, had just one grand slam to his name. 


But then he found it — greatness — and matured in front of our eyes, becoming even more clutch in the biggest moments than we'd ever seen Federer or Nadal. His forehand winner against Federer in the 2010 U.S. Open semifinal, while facing match point, was fearless, the stuff of legends, and laid the groundwork for his three grand slam wins in 2011 followed by this year's epic Australian Open victory over Nadal.


Now, we get to see Federer-Djokovic, again, in Thursday's first French Open semifinal. 


We're so lucky.


In so many sports, we, as fans, love the upset. The unpredictability of it. The excitement that comes with the goliath being stoned down. But in tennis, I root for the Big Three to reach the final rounds and eventually face off against each other, because their greatness under pressure, their shotmaking ability, is unmatched. And it makes for incredible theater.


It's the Golden Age of men's tennis. And we should relish it while it lasts. 

Tim Duncan: The last great, never-talked-about superstar

Tim Duncan.

Ever heard of him? 

Four-time NBA champion. Three-time NBA Finals MVP. Two-time NBA MVP. 

Greatest. Power forward. Ever. (GPFE).

Ever heard the name?

As the ageless, wonderful, impossible-to-dislike San Antonio Spurs make this incredibly impressive run through the playoffs — seven wins, zero losses — I'm reminded that Tim Duncan is, indeed, still playing. And still playing very well.

At age 36, Duncan collected 19 points and 13 rebounds in the Spurs' comeback from down 24 points Saturday night to demoralize the Clippers in L.A., 96-86, and all but seal their advancement to the Western Conference Finals.

Which got me thinking, What Tim Duncan memories stand out to me? What games, what moments will I never forget about the NBA's GPFE.

I'll admit it — my memory is flawed. I don't have the gift of remembering specific plays from 10, 12 and 15 years ago. I'm no Bill Simmons and his encyclopedic NBA memory.

But I must have memories of a guy who's reached the pinnacle of professional basketball four times, right?

Still thinking...

And I've got nothing. 

(In fact, the one Spurs moment that I'll never forget is when Robert Horry hit that dagger 3-pointer to bury my Pistons in Game 5 of the 2005 Finals — by the way, the greatest never-talked-about Finals of the last 20-plus years.)

But no Tim Duncan memories come to mind. This from a 13-time All Star who is a career double-double (20.3 ppg, 11.3 rpg, 50.7 percent shooting). 

That speaks exactly to who Tim Duncan is, somehow, in this age of relentless, unapologetic media coverage; endless sound bites and highlights; and overexposure (see: Griffin, Blake).

The last great superstar under the radar. 

Even during the peak of his greatness, Duncan never received the bulk of the headlines (see — in chronological order — Iverson, Allen; O'Neal, Shaquille; Bryant, Kobe; McGrady, Tracy; Wade, Dwyane; Bryant, Kobe (again); Garnett, Kevin ...).

He just continued to produce stellar game after stellar game, banking in those 15-footers, grabbing every rebound within his reach, playing with that stoic demeanor whether up 20 or down 20 (a reflection of his steady coach Gregg Popovich).

And now, finishing his 15th season, Duncan is considered, unarguably, the best player to ever take the court at his position. And, I'd posit, a top-10 player of all time. 

All while avoiding the spotlight. 

We will never see another player like Duncan. No, I'm not referring to his actual game. There will be more power forwards banking in jumpers, spinning into the lane to hit jump hooks, and overcoming just average athleticism to be defensively rock solid to the tune of 12 all-defensive NBA awards.

No, I'm referring to Duncan's ability to avoid the spotlight. 

The current or future NBA superstar won't be able to slip through the cracks — they won't be able to avoid Twitter (except for a seven-Tweet experience in 2010). They'll be so overexposed that you'll come to think they're overrated just because of the attention they get (see, again: Griffin, Blake). 

Tim Duncan is a dinosaur. 

Now go watch his continued greatness before he's gone and completely forgotten — at least to the masses. 

If you don't know about the Washington Nationals, you will soon

Whether you're in North Bend, Oregon, or Augusta, Maine, you might have heard about what that kid Bryce Harper did last night. 


The Washington Nationals phenom threw a bat off a wall on the way to the clubhouse, and the bat didn't like it, caroming off the wall into Harper's face. Ten stitches later, he retook the field with a bloodied face.


What a brash, young fool!


You might have also tuned in last Sunday night and seen the kid steal home before the Phillies exerted their will during a 9-3, nationally televised thumping of the Nationals. 


So, if you live in the Bay Area or Gary, Indiana, what do you think of the Washington Nationals?


Well, you're entitled to your opinion, but from living just a couple miles from Nationals Park here in the District and from following the club even more closely than the team, you know, that I like — that would be my hometown Tigers — I can tell you that the Nationals are the present and future of baseball. 


The Nationals will be in the playoffs this year.


They'll likely be in the playoffs next year.


And they'll be in contention for the playoffs probably for the next decade.


No hyperbole here.


No other team can match what the Nationals have, assembled by the brash GM Mike Rizzo:


The best starting rotation in baseball — not a single starter older than 28 (that would be Edwin Jackson), with four of them 26 or younger.


A middle of the infield, in Ian Desmond and Danny Espinosa, which has struggled but is young and promising — Desmond is 26, Espinosa is 25.


And speaking of middles, a middle of the batting order in Ryan Zimmerman, Michael Morse, Jayson Werth and Adam LaRoche that packs plenty of punch — when healthy.


Oh, and that Harper kid.


(Not to mention what many consider to be one of the best farm systems in the game.)


And the Washington Nationals are winning now. This isn't, as many have posited, a team of the future, a team we'll see in contention two to three years from now. This is a team ready to win the division and compete in the playoffs this year. 


Consider this: The Nationals have been without their slugger Morse the entire year and their best hitter Zimmerman for the last few weeks. The Nationals lost Werth on Sunday for at least a couple months and were without LaRoche for almost a week. The Nationals haven't had their closer Drew Storen all season and lost Brad Lidge, their closer No. 2, a couple weeks back. The Nationals are scoring the 26th most runs in the majors.


The Nationals are 20-12 and in first place.


If these guys all get healthy, I have a hard time seeing the Nationals losing any particular game. In other words, if I were in Vegas and betting on baseball (don't worry; I've never been to the Vegas), I'd take the Nationals every time. 


Every night, a Nationals starter gives the team a chance to win. All the offense has to do is score three, maybe four runs. When they put up seven against the Reds last night, it was over — and 26-year-old Gio Gonzalez didn't even pitch that well, giving up two runs in five innings. By this rotation's standards, that's not a quality start.


When you have that luxury, a burden is lifted from the offense. There's not a pressure to score a certain amount of runs each game. Just do what you can do.


Enter Harper, a 19-year-old who doesn't seem to feel pressure or even realize he's in the big leagues. In his first game under the national spotlight, he only stole home, turned a single for any other major leaguer into a double, and made a diving catch in left field.


After the game, he wasn't at all fazed by the fact that Phillies starter Cole Hamels admitted to pegging him before that theft of home. 


Harper isn't a rising star — he's a star. He'll go through his struggles, like yesterday's 0-for-5, bat (err, face) bashing performance, but he'll get better, more mature and flat-out dangerous every time he's at bat or on the base paths. 


As people who know a lot more about baseball than I have opined, Harper isn't a hitter or a fielder, he's a "hellbent ball player." That ought to scare plenty of opposing teams. 


Speaking of scary, that's what the Nationals are. 


This is a team built perfectly for now, five years down the road and 10 years away. This is a team with an owner in Ted Lerner willing to spend, a GM in Mike Rizzo who's made the right moves, and a manager in Davey Johnson who's handling his hungry club the right way. 


Get used to seeing the Washington Nationals at the top of the standings, because they're not going anywhere anytime soon.

Why I struggle with my football fandom these days

Here's a disturbing statistic:

Of the San Diego Chargers 1994 Super Bowl team, eight players are dead before the age of 45.

Think about that. 

Disturbing.

This one isn't as exact, but I'm not exaggerating:

Almost every month, we hear a tragic story about a former NFL player taking his own life.

Disturbing. 

I'm just getting started. And so is the bounty-gate story, which continues to slam down on the New Orleans Saints with more force than any NFL hit you've ever gotten out of your seat about. 

Jonathan Vilma, whom I always heard was a classy, hard-working player who did things the right way, offered teammates $10,000 to take out Kurt Warner and/or Brett Favre. 

He was far from the only one. Here in Washington, the Redskins are being investigated for a bounty program. They're not the lone other team.

Sickening. 

And yet, despite everything that's come out about this troubled league, the American public eats it all up. That is why 365 days a year, we are inundated with NFL chatter. ESPN's Mike & Mike in the Morning radio show doesn't go a day without a segment on some NFL story. I'm not kidding. 

There hasn't been a SportsCenter in the last two years devoid of an NFL mention — and there won't be one anytime soon. ESPN now employs more NFL analysts than there are players in the league (slight exaggeration ... slight). 

The NFL Draft is on the verge of becoming a national holiday and will be a week, and then a month, before we know it...

There are certain things I love about football, and the NFL in particular. The game takes so much smarts. The average fan has no idea how many schemes and plays each player has to memorize. I certainly can't imagine having to remember all that while lining up across from a guy who wants to rip my head off. And when a play is executive by all 11 guys, it's a beautiful, harmonic thing to watch. 

Quarterback is the most difficult position in all of sports, and those at the top of the profession make it look easy. That's incredible, and a sports feat I'll always appreciate. 

And then there's the parity. No league has had more of it than the NFL, and it creates some great drama each season and particularly in the playoffs.

But, I'm sorry, that's not enough for me to be able to forgot about football's evils and just sit back as a fan and watch. 

Every week, we hear about more and more players involved in lawsuits against the league for not properly protecting them against concussions. Of course, Commissioner Roger Goodell has implemented strict measures to try to prevent players with concussions from playing, but there's nothing he can do from stopping concussions from initially happening (who knows if there's an evolutionary helmet out there that would make a noticeable difference).

As I've learned more about the traumatic effects this injury has on players soon after their careers are complete, I'm turned off. I can't just enjoy the players while they're on my TV screen and forget about them when they retire into a life of shrinking brain size, mental illness and, sadly, sometimes suicide. 

Other studies are widespread that simply detail the trauma caused by repetitive hitting from football — not even to the head. Again, this leads to players losing their minds after the glory days are over. 

Am I boycotting the NFL? Am I going to stop watching football completely? 

No. Absolutely not. I'm too big of a sports fan, too much of a lurch for drama, to do that. But now I watch and see the game through a different lens. I cringe each time I see a huge hit (often now illegal). I wonder how that hit might affect that player 10, 12 or 15 years from now. And I wonder how many of those hits were, just a few years ago, ordered up through bribery by the other team.

It's America's most popular sports league. And in the past 12 months, it has survived a protracted work stoppage, a bounty scandal (still ongoing), an increasing number of former player lawsuits and tragic deaths. 

It dominates our airwaves. 

But these days, I usually change the channel or hit mute. 

It's simply too much for me to stomach. 

NBA tanking: It's no exact science

Do you have writer's block? In need of an idea on a blog post to write? 

Simply turn on sports talk radio for a few minutes while driving back from a tennis match (or whatever you may be doing on a Friday evening), and you'll likely hear an opinion that you completely disagree with. 

Then start punching the keys.

Tonight, I got my inspiration from a couple of buffoons on ESPN Radio who kept talking about the issue of NBA teams tanking. For a good three minutes, the hosts pounded home the point that NBA teams can't possibly tank because it would just take too much effort and planning.

I didn't record the conversation, but I think I heard something about how it would be so difficult to "coordinate the effort" between players, coaches, and, yes, the "GM."

At which point I chuckled, switched over to my favorite classic rock station, rolled down the window of the Civic, and got on with my life.

But now I need to correct these guys. So here's my brief take on "NBA tanking."

1. It exists.

2. There are no "coordinated efforts."

3. It's simple, really. 

Hey, I love the NBA. The collection of talent you see during a given game is incredible. The things players can do, from hanging in the air for an eternity to dropping 81 points to taking over a game (a la LeBron, Game 5, 2007 Eastern Conference Finals — sorry Pistons fans) are incredible.

But it's not hard to see when players aren't, well, completely into a game. There are simply games that players care less about than others. That's reflected in their effort, in sloppiness. 

That's tanking. 

An even easier-to-track tanking occurs when players are "shut down" for the season. 

Do you think LaMarcus Aldridge would have gotten hip surgery immediately if the Blazers were in the playoff race? Meanwhile, Derrick Rose practically had to be handcuffed by management to be kept from playing in the Bulls' pivotal game against the Heat last night despite several ailments.

Players who could play, who are being paid to play the full season, not playing?

That's tanking. 

So, no, tanking doesn't involve Byron Scott or Mark Jackson standing in front of their team and saying, "Guys, we need to lose the rest of our games!! I talked to the GM earlier and we decided it's the right thing to do."

(Although that would be highly entertaining and, I'm sure, would somehow leak onto Twitter.)

No, tanking is a bit more subtle.

But still very alive. And as long as the league retains the current lottery system with the fun ping pong balls, I don't see it going by the wayside anytime soon.

Maybe that'll be my next topic: the lottery system. 

I'll wait until I hear a dumb opinion on it...

Will Tiger pass Jack? Ask me in 15 years

On Sunday afternoon, I had the rarest of experiences. 

I watched more than three hours of The Masters and only when Jim Nantz went down the entire leaderboard did I hear that name. Only then was it mentioned in the Sunday afternoon dialogue. 

Tiger Woods.

Imagine that. The media has found a way, it seems, to tie in every golf story line to Woods, but not as a Woods-less drama unfolded at Augusta National Sunday, with Bubba Watson eventually outlasting Louis Oosthuizen in a two-hole playoff to claim the Green Jacket. 

Woods' performance had everything to do with it. Tiger, 36, put together his worst four-day major championship and finished a career-worst five over par at Augusta. 

So why am I even mentioning Woods? 

Oh, I'm just trying to beat the crowd. Because as great as the Bubba Watson story is, it'll fade within days, and maybe a late-night show appearance (but probably not), just as have the stories of most of the winners of each of the past 14 majors — no player has won two during that span, which dates back to the second of Padraig Harrington's back-to-back majors to close out 2008.

It's appropriate, perhaps, that those majors came right after Woods' last victory, his one-legged miracle at Torrey Pines.

So, of course, the question remains: Will Tiger catch Jack? Will he be able to win five more majors to surpass Nicklaus' 18?

Well, I'm here to tell you that this question is simply not worth addressing. Not now. And unless Woods starts winning majors and eclipses the Golden Bear, probably not for 15 years. 

Nothing that happens to Woods in the next five years could change my mind (barring death or becoming chronically unable to perform physically). Woods could tear his ACL, have another scathing book written about him by a former coach and change his swing again, and I wouldn't change my mind (not that I'm wishing any of these horrible upon him).

I wouldn't alter my stance because it's golf! Because just recently, sanguine 59-year-old Tom Watson was a hole away from winning the British Open. Because just this weekend, Freddy Couples, 52, was in contention. And neither of those guys takes closes to as good care of their bodies as Woods. 

This isn't tennis, where we know, as good as he continues to play, that Roger Federer's window is closing, that in three to four years he simply won't be able to keep up with the competition. 

This isn't basketball, where we know that even though Ray Allen hasn't eaten an ounce of saturated fat during his career, his legs won't be giving him the needed lift at age 45 to elevate above the defense and knock down those 3-pointers.

No, this is golf. 

Will Woods be able to drive the ball 330 yards at age 60? Probably not (although with technology upgrades, don't count that out, either). But players adjust. They mend their game. Focus on the areas they can control. And as any golfer will tell you, a wicked weekend around the greens combined with decent striking of the ball can win a tournament.

Even a major.

So I've said my bit. Now I'm ready to let it rest. 

Will Tigers Woods break Jack Nicklaus' record? 

Here's my surefire answer:

Not in the next four majors.