The men’s final on Sunday was an improvement over the women’s final on Saturday in terms of quality and – for many fans – outcome. Ons Jabeur, the Tunisian who is possibly the most beloved tennis player in the world (even the women she beats adore her) was once again overcome by the occasion and lost, this time to an unseeded Marketa Vondrousova in a match of head-scratching unforced errors.
The men’s final was a more fitting tug-of-war between the old guard – 36-year-old GOAT Novak Djokovic – and the still-not-able-to-drink-in-the-U.S superstar Carlos Alcaraz. One of the elder’s service games, which he ultimately lost, lasted almost 27 minutes – the length of some sets. Neither player was giving an inch, which meant fewer of the unforced errors that marred the women’s final. When they occurred, they were generally committed by the Serb, who, at the end of one game in the fifth set, smacked his racket against the net post, leaving a dent in the wood and a fine example for his two young boys watching from the player’s box. It was impossible to imagine Djokovic’s two old rivals – Federer and Nadal – exhibiting such behavior on the hallowed Centre Court (or any court for that matter). Djokovic became the only player that I’m aware of to intentionally cause destruction to the All England grounds, though this act went unmentioned in the post-match interview, during which Djokovic was as gracious as always in defeat. But his temper in the heat of battle – he also at one point blew sarcastic kisses to the pro-Alcaraz crowd – is a major reason he doesn’t get the love and respect that his rivals did, a love and respect he so desperately wants.
We’ve reached that point in the tournament – not just Wimbledon, but pretty much any of the majors – at which every player I root for loses. Yesterday it was Swiatek, Pegula, and Rublev; today, I suspect, it will be Jabeur, Eubanks, and Keys.
I’m hoping that writing this I’ll be proved wrong, but I don’t even think a blog post will help.
Browsing through Instagram last night I came across a long post from the Polish tennis player Magda Linette. She began by talking about the people who ask her if she doesn’t get homesick, traveling to tournaments around the world. Her answer to them is that this is the life she’s chosen for herself. She added that when she’s back in Poland, she sees Ukrainians (over a million refugees are now in her country) and she wonders about them: Have they found a new life in Poland? How much do they miss their country? And she realizes, in a way she hasn’t always, how lucky she is, how lucky so many of us are.
The war, she writes, is not being covered by the media the way it once was, yet horrible things are happening all the time. She closes with a passionate declaration of support for the Ukrainian people and the hope that someday they will find peace and happiness in their homeland.
It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever read or heard from an athlete.
The Marlins don’t often make the front page of the Sports section, but in today’s Herald they share the page with the Heat and the Panthers. And the three headlines seem to explain why they’re so often absent there:
“Heat Culture is a Thing.”
“Cats find strength in numbers on run through the playoffs.”
“Marlins Chisholm expected to miss 4-6 weeks with turf toe.”
Yesterday in Miami, the Marlins accomplished their first sweep of the season, beating the Chicago Cubs, once again, by one run. In New York, the Heat – who were supposed to already be on vacation – took the first game in their playoff series with the Knicks. And in Boston, the Panthers (ditto) were 60 seconds from elimination against the mighty Bruins when they scored to send the game into overtime, where they scored again, advancing to the next round of the Stanley Cup playoffs.
A remarkable Sunday for South Florida sports fans.
I’m not a golf fan but I watch the majors, and any tournament at Pebble Beach, for the stunning scenery as much as for the brilliant shot making. This year’s Masters had both, as well as the drama of an old-fashioned shootout, the kind in which the bad guy wears a black hat and the good guy wears a white one.
Though the commentators ignored the battle of good vs. evil that was happening on the screen, it was apparent to even casual observers. The leader going into the final round on Sunday was Brooks Koepka, a man who, along with a number of other famous players, had joined the Saudi-based LIV tour after deciding that huge sums of money trumped any moral considerations, while the man breathing down his neck was Jon Rahm, a staunch defender of the PGA. At the end of the day, just like in a classic Western, Rahm held the trophy and put on the green jacket.