For stretches after Andy Roddick’s latest
victory, the one that extended his farewell tour at least another two days, he
seemed unsure how to react — what to do and how to celebrate.
This whole retirement thing is new to him,
after all.
He clapped. He blew kisses. He waved. He
sat in his chair and leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He threw
a treasure trove of souvenirs into the crowd: shirts, towels, wristbands, even
a racket. He answered questions. He received a standing ovation.
The Roddick goodbye party continued Sunday
at the United States Open, three days after he announced that this tournament
would be his last. It continued against a colorful Italian named Fabio Fognini,
he of the bright yellow shirt and lined beard and animated gestures, the friend
Roddick downed, 7-5, 7-6 (1), 4-6, 6-4, to advance to the fourth round.
“Anybody retire here?” Roddick asked in an on-court interview. “You
want to tell me. ...”
His voice trailed off, choked with emotion,
the product of another afternoon spent in the unknown. For most of his teenage
years and all of his adult life, Roddick hit a fuzzy yellow ball over a net.
This particular skill took him all over the world, earning him praise,
particularly for his 2003 United States Open triumph, and criticism, largely
for the lack of major championships that followed, and for his status as the best
of an American men’s tennis generation that either underachieved or came of age
in the wrong era.
Then came Thursday, his 30th birthday, and
the evening Roddick made his intentions clear. Unable to continue meeting the
physical demands of the ATP Tour, unwilling to put the time that he once did
into tennis, Roddick said he would retire after this Open concluded, no
questions asked, no chance he would change his mind.
Someone asked Roddick if he could pull
together a dream run, like the one he watched Jimmy Connors embark on in 1991,
when Connors was 39. Roddick said he wished he had a choice.
Instead, his choice was to play, and play
he did. Roddick beat Bernard Tomic of Australia in straight sets Friday to set
up the meeting with Fognini, which Roddick began by quickly going up two sets.
“It was loud out there,” Roddick said. “About as loud as I remember.”
For Roddick, the sentimental favorite,
Fognini provided a perfect foil. He looked like a pirate, and he screamed at
the chair umpire. He angrily threw a towel in the vicinity of a ball boy, and
smacked a ball so high in frustration on a changeover that it nearly lstruck
Roddick’s head.
Earlier in the match, Roddick attacked
Fognini when he served, charging the net, finishing off volleys. Yet, as Roddick
crept closer to victory, he ventured forward less and stayed back more and
played too often off his back foot, a frequent criticism of him in recent
years.
The players traded service breaks early
into the fourth set. Fognini talked to himself. Roddick continued to yell,
“Come on!” Roddick later said he played more aggressively because he struck the
ball well, which allowed him to come forward.
At 3-3, Fognini lost two -consecutive
challenges, gifting Roddick another break point. Fognini then missed a
forehand.
Roddick later served for the match, and
with each point he won, the crowd roared louder. Twice in the final game the
umpire called for quiet. The match time went over three hours as Roddick
unleashed his final serve. Again, it threw Fognini off balance.
Afterward, Fognini said Roddick served
“unbelievable,” especially on the crucial points. “He has no pressure now,”
Fognini added. “He was really aggressive, nothing to lose.”
Except that is not really true. If you
believe Roddick, if he does not win the tournament, the next match he loses
will be his last, at which point he will lose his vocation, part of his
self-identity and much of his fame.
There will be no more opponents, like
Fognini, to ask for Roddick’s shirt when the games end. No more crowds begging
for his autograph. No more news conferences to spar with reporters.
“I’m not able to articulate it, but I’m trying not to overthink it,”
Roddick said of the few days since he announced he would retire. “I’m trying to
be as simplistic as possible.”
That meant Roddick shortened his practices
and concentrated on recovery. He planned to get a massage on Sunday night, to
rest. He is 30 after all.
Roddick will need it. The draw gets
exponentially tougher from here. In the fourth round, he will face Juan Martín
del Potro, the Open champion in 2009, the last player not named Roger Federer
or Novak Djokovic or Rafael Nadal to win a major tournament. Should Roddick
upset del Potro, he will very likely face Djokovic, the second seed, in the
quarterfinals.
“I know this is special for him,” del Potro said. “But this is my
job. If I play in a high level, it will be tough. The crowd loves Andy here and
has respect for me. So it will be a great show.”
In the on-court interview immediately
afterward, when the reporter asked Roddick about Del Potro, a murmur ran
through the crowd. The spectators knew the challenge that lay ahead.
Roddick said he would try his best to beat
Del Potro, to stay in the moment and maintain control over his emotions. He
could fail on all counts, or succeed at only one. Roddick said he and Del
Potro, with big serves and similar skills, usually play each other close.
Roddick’s injured shoulder, which he compared to hamburger meat, felt “not
great,” but “good enough.”
Regardless, as he prepared to leave Arthur
Ashe Stadium on Sunday, officials cued Journey on the stadium loudspeakers. The
song, “Don’t Stop Believin’,” rang throughout the grounds. For Roddick, in this
tournament, it seemed appropriate.
Roddick sauntered down the tunnel and into
the locker room. Retirement, for at least another two days, could wait.
“It’ll be here before we know it,” he said.
