Weekend Tennis Roundup

A year after Alexander Zverev announced his arrival in the big time by crushing Novak Djokovic to win the Italian Open, the young German held his own but not his crown as Rafael Nadal used a rain delay to regain momentum Sunday, winning his eighth title on the Foro Italico's Campo Centrale, 6-1, 1-6, 6-3 in two hours and nine minutes. If someone were to beat Rafa in Paris it would rank as one of the biggest upsets of all time.

Meanwhile, Simona Halep made a further mockery of the women's game, losing 6-0, 6-4 in the final to Elina Svitolina. Halep has just ONE title to her name -- and it's a rinky-dink 250! -- yet still retains the No. 1 ranking. Damian quickly reminded me of when the world was beside itself that Dinara Safina was No. 1 without winning a major -- only she had captured Rome and Madrid (both premier mandatory events) as well as a hardcourt title in Slovenia, and made the final in Melbourne and Paris as we;; as the semis at Wimbledon. (Her third-round loss at the U.S. Open was to Petra Kvitova!) I guess like many things in life, the bar has been moved so low that this now seems brilliant in retrospect. Perhaps the most noteworthy thing from the women's side is that Maria Sharapova finally had a pretty good tournament. 

In the eye candy department: Robert Farah and Juan "Can Pass for Hot With a Hat On" Cabal claimed their first Masters 1000 title in Rome, with a 3-6, 6-4, 10-4 win over Pablo Carreno Busta and João Sousa.

(Anything to keep Farah in the news!) 

Lo que sucede cuando desayuno espinaca por la mañana 💪🏼💥💪🏼 What happens when I have spinach for breakfast! 😬🔥 . . . #tennis #rome #roma #foroitalico #strangethings #funny

A post shared by robertfarah (@robertfarah) on May 19, 2018 at 10:47am PDT

This was one of the week's funnier moments ...

In Rome, Djokovic Plays His Best Tennis of the Year but Still Comes Up Short Against Nadal

Damian got up to watch, but it still wasn't enough to curse his (other) man, Rafael Nadal, from winning against Novak Djokovic today in Rome. After clinching a nail-biting 73-minute first set, it was more like business as usual for the King of Clay, who won 7-6(4), 6-3.

Still, Tennis is all but declaring it the return of Big 4 tennis -- with its "dazzling rallies, careening athleticism, ambition and sportsmanship in (mostly) equal measures."

“I missed it,” Novak Djokovic said today, speaking for just about every tennis fan. 

With Andy Murray sidelined, Djokovic struggling, and Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer seemingly residing on separate tours this season, it had been a while since we were treated to tennis royalty going toe to toe. It had been even longer since we had seen the most hard-fought of all the Big 4 rivalries, Nadal vs. Djokovic, give us an old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out battle. The last of them had come two years ago in Rome, when Nole held off Rafa in two tight, thrilling, see-saw sets.

Rafa and Nole have played 51 times -- with the latter now holding a one match advantage --  more than any other male pair of the Open Era. Everyone likes to talk about the Nadal-Federer "rivalry," but I've always said that their head-to-head in majors is so lopsided -- a la Sampras vs. Agassi -- that I hardly thought it counted. Nadal and Djokovic, on the other hand, are closer to the real deal, although each of them seems to have dominated the other when the loser was at a relatively low point in his career. (Or did the other's ascent cause this slip?) There's no guarantee that Djokovic is (or will ever fully be) back. But it's a good sign. Here's hoping we have a few years where they're both playing top-level tennis ahead of them. The men's game sorely needs it.

Nadal now plays Alexander Zverev in the final, fresh off his win in Madrid. He's still very young and talented, but even a win tomorrow won't convince me he's best-of-five material until he finally does it on the big stage.

Eternal Flame

Don't know what's more exciting, that Tommy Haas and Novak Djokovic both won their opening-round matches in Rome, or that the German dreamboat seems to have signed a new clothing deal with Ellesse, a la Chris Evert Lloyd and yours truly!

How Novak Got His Groove Back?

Novak Djokovic arrived in Rome on Sunday and was back to his joker self, dancing shirtless after a practice session with Stanislas Wawrinka. The world number two says his wrist has been pain-free for 10 days and is ready to battle in Foro Italico. ''Right now I feel much more confident at the state of my wrist and I know that I'm ready much more to play a match than I was one week ago." With Rafael Nadal looking a little off in his weekend win in Madrid, here's hoping the stars will finally align for the Serbian father-to-be.

Roman Empire

Two more lopsided finals for Rafael Nadal and Serena Williams this weekend, as they beat "rivals" Roger Federer and Victoria Azarenka to head into Roland Garros as the clear favorites. 

This picture summed up Roger's performance to a T.

Rome (If You Want To)

Novak Djokovic posted these cute photos on his FB page yesterday, along with this note: 

 It was incredible to spend an afternoon with kids, I had a blast! Now I'm feeling full of positive energy for tomorrow's match... Thanks to all the buddies who joined me this afternoon

Next up? A quarterfinal showdown versus Tomas Berdych.

Roman Holiday

The trip to Rome was everything we hoped it would be. Exciting, relaxing, romantic. Having never been there before, Michael and I followed a tourist-by-numbers outline, featuring a coin toss and a wish at the Trevi Fountain (it totally worked, Troy was alive and well when we returned!), a wing and a prayer at the Vatican, a guided tour of the Forum and the Colosieum, some clothes shopping and hanging out on the Spanish Steps by moonlight. Along with these typical activities, we did manage to stumble upon a few fun and unexpected things, like the Keats-Shelley House on the Piazza di Spagna, where the likes of Byron, the Brownings, Henry James, Edith Wharton, Oscar Wilde and James Joyce were known to hang out, finding inspiration in celebrated "centro storico." The house is said to be just as it was when John Keats traveled to Rome to spend what were to be the last few months of his life in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable effects of consumption. Nearby we had our first real Roman dinner at the wonderful Fiaschetteria, a place recommended by a friend. I had pasta alla amatriciana, something I'd never even heard of before (bacon in tomato sauce? sign me up!). Everything was so delicious, from the bread to the antipasti to the wine. (Little did we realize that by Day 4 the mere sight of pasta and pizza would start to make us physically ill. How much of that stuff can one person eat?! And do these people ever stop eating gelato??? What's the big deal anyway? It seemed just like ice cream to me, which also doesn't excite me! But anyway.)

Then on Wednesday night I had the (tennis) thrill of a lifetime when we were sitting in our favorite cafe (read: we freak creatures of habit had already found a place to go three times a day while we were in town) when I noticed someone who I said "looks just like Roger Federer." Michael quickly -- and astutely -- said to me, "That is Roger Federer, you idiot!" Next thing I know I see his girlfriend Mirka and some other guy walk by too. Of course, it's the one night I didn't bother bringing my camera with me, so after quickly combing the streets to see if anyone was selling disposable ones I realized desperate times called for desperate measures. Next thing I know I got this crazy taxi driver -- who just happened to be the first Italian I encountered who didn't speak perfect English -- to take me to my hotel (in the pouring rain, going 60 kph) and back in record time ... just in time to run into Roger on his way out after a late dinner (he must have just gotten there following his exhibition with Nadal in Spain). He was gracious (don't be fooled by the "perturbed" look on his face in the photo with me, but why does he seem so much happier to be around Michael????). And unlike most famous people, he's every bit as tall and sturdy as his official profile claims ...

Despite a couple of minor things with waiters trying to pull one over on us, by and large, everyone is Rome was really friendly. Ironically, things got a little ugly with the Micks when we were checking in at the airport at the Aer Lingus counter and the inexperienced young ticket agent became flustered with our itineraries and eventually threw our passports back to us and told us we'd have to let one of the other women check us in. It was all very strange and she didn't really communicate what was going on. We were the first people in line for check-in but by the time this chick fiddled around at the computer for nine hours we suddenly realized there were nearly a hundred people in line behind us. When we attempted to move to another agent -- as we had been told to do -- the Irish crowd got hostile toward us and this Maureen O'Hara lookalike started pressuring her husband to physically stop us from "cutting" in front of them (his elbowing Michael only served to make things worse). When Michael and I wouldn't back down, explaining to her that we had been there long before them and that the agent had told us we were next, things got even more tense as Maureen began explaining to us that she "didn't like" our "attitude." ("We have a flight to catch," she exclaimed, as if we were there to hang out.) When Michael shot back that we were all going to the same place (our layover was in Dublin) and that he didn't appreciate her husband's elbow in his side she went crazy SCREAMING at Michael to "JUST SHUT UP!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!"

Next thing we know the whole crowd is weighing in on the "fight" and I hear whispers of "Of course the Americans think they should go first" -- never mind the fact that we HAD GOTTEN THERE FIRST. It was all rather comical given the fact that Michael and I both think of ourselves as being so "Irish," yet we quickly realized they all thought of us as being anything but. It all blew over when we finally got checked in, but as we were getting off the plane in Dublin we could see and hear this group of passengers pointing at us and saying, "There's those Americans!" They were right, though. They all went home and we got on our connecting flight to JFK. Americans, indeed. Now would somebody please give me a drink with more than one goddamn ice cube in it!!!