An adios to Andy
Andy Roddick is a famous tennis player. Really famous. Super famous. He’s so famous that he married one of the best looking women in the world, a girl so beautiful that my girlfriend a night ago was questioning our movie selection because Brooklyn Decker is in a bikini for most of it. But more than that, Roddick is famous for being Andy. His press conferences are stuff of legends. His ability to speak so articulately and witty has made him an interviewer’s dream (and sometimes, a nightmare).
On Friday at Wimbledon, Andy wasn’t any of that. He was simply a defeated 28-year-old that lost his last gasp at this elusive major, and when asked afterwards if the thought of not winning Wimbledon crosses his mind, he answered very honestly.
“Sure, you’re human … of course it does.”
For the past 10 or so years, Roddick has been the best shot for America to compete in Grand Slams. He won the U.S. Open. He competed on grass. But more than that, he gave everyone from this crazy country hope that maybe, just maybe, Roddick would become something he couldn’t.
He can’t. It just isn’t in his cards. At a time in tennis where everyone can hit the ball hard, but more than that, can get to all their opponent’s beastly shots, Roddick has been left in the dust (or for this analogy, the clippings). At one time, his big serve and booming forehand was enough to compete. That isn’t the case anymore. These days, when he smashes a ball down the line, it seems to always coming back to him, and mostly to that ghastly backhand of his that makes fans of Roddick shake their heads like they’d just stepped in dog poo.
On a day at Wimbledon that looked like a stroll in Hyde Park, Roddick lost in straight sets to a guy he was 7-0 against. He never seemed to be in the match, and once that dobber goes down for Andy, you know the match is over.
Tennis is a cruel game. One day you’re on top of the world, and the next, you’re the old guy still hoping to get to the next round. There is no better case of this than Roger Federer, who was once the be all and end all of tennis, and now is the third name behind Nadal and Djokovic.
But Andy’s career has been stranger. It always seemed he’d win at Wimbledon. The court and the crowds and the reporters and the town seemed made for someone like Roddick. But when you can only play from one side of the ball, you don’t have much of a chance these days, and the older Andy gets, the more we see this.
I hate watching it, to be honest. I’ve loved Andy since the days of his frosted tips and Reeboks, and still wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning to catch all of his Wimbledon matches. I don’t have a lot of professional sports teams that make me feel like Cubs fans must feel, but Roddick is that to the game of tennis. You see his talent and hope, but realize it isn’t going to happen.
Andy is never going to win another Grand Slam. It won’t happen. He snagged one before the rise of Roger, and almost every tennis player in the world would give their forehand for a chance to win the U.S. Open, so when we look back we must be proud that he was able to do that. But for some reason, it always felt like there could be more. Fans always rooted for Andy, and hoped that this would be the year he’d do it.
That will never be the case now, and we can all see it. He can see it. Tennis has passed Roddick by, and as disappointing as that is for American tennis, it is just part of the game.
