Friday, November 27, 2009
ROGER'S GRIP
What can we learn from this pic:
1. His grip size is probably 4 2/8.
2. His pinky is almost off the butt.
3. He's switched to an Continental because he
will be hitting the ball late.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
SODERLING RIPS DJOKOVIC
Sweden’s Robin Soderling backed up his impressive opening win over World No. 2 Rafael Nadal by defeating defending Barclays ATP World Tour Finals champion Novak Djokovic 7-6(5), 6-1 in Group B action Wednesday at The O2 in south-east London.
Soderling, making his debut at the season finale as a late replacement for the injured Andy Roddick, is the first singles player through to the semi-finals at the season climax. The Tibro native is the first Swede to reach the semi-finals since Jonas Bjorkman at Hannover in 1997. It is the second year in a row, and the fourth time in the past five years, that the No. 8 seed has reached the semi-finals or better.
In a 29-minute second set, Soderling won the final six games of the match with controlled aggression and few errors. Djokovic was unable to move around the court to the best of his ability and, in attempting to end the points quickly, more often than not made the error.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
ROGER HOLDS ONTO #1
Roger Federer ensured he would end the year as world number one after he beat Andy Murray 3-6 6-3 6-1 in a round-robin match at the ATP World Tour Finals on Tuesday.
The Swiss could have been usurped by Rafael Nadal but the Spaniard's defeat on Monday coupled with Federer's two victories in London meant he could no longer be overtaken this year.
ACTIVE BODY - CALM MIND
Researchers at Princeton University recently made a remarkable discovery about the brains of rats that exercise. Some of their neurons respond differently to stress than the neurons of slothful rats. Scientists have known for some time that exercise stimulates the creation of new brain cells (neurons) but not how, precisely, these neurons might be functionally different from other brain cells.
The youngest brain cells in the running rats, the cells that the scientists assumed were created by running generally remained quiet. The “cells born from running,” the researchers concluded, appeared to have been “specifically buffered from exposure to a stressful experience.” The rats had created, through running, a brain that seemed biochemically, molecularly, calm.
SWEDE KILLER?
Rafael Nadal lost to Robin Soderling for the second straight time, falling 6-4, 6-4 Monday in their opening round-robin match at the ATP World Tour Finals.
Soderling, who handed the Spaniard his first loss on clay at the French Open this year, powered his way through the Group B match by keeping Nadal on the move on the hard court at O2 Arena.
Read more: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2009/tennis/11/23/atp.finals.ap/index.html?
Sunday, November 22, 2009
THE ARTFUL DODGER
Four-time Barclays ATP World Tour Finals champion Roger Federer survived a scare on Sunday evening against Spain’s Fernando Verdasco before prevailing 4-6, 7-5, 6-1 in the second Group A match at The O2 arena in London.
MURRY BEATS DELPO
Andy Murray marked the start of London's five-year hosting of the ATP Tour Finals with a 6-3 3-6 6-2 win over U.S. Open champion Juan Martin del Potro in front of 17,500 fans inside the spectacular O2 Arena on Sunday.
The Briton withstood a ferocious comeback by the Argentine, who lost the opening five games, to open his account in Group A which also contains world number one Roger Federer and Fernando Verdasco who play later.
London
Eight top tennis stars including Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal will participate in the ATP World Tour Finals beginning today.
Success in this event may get Nadal number one rank back while Federer after his recent failures may remain on topfor further some time if he wins the tournament.
There is a difference of 945 points between Nadal and Federer and if Nadal does not lose any match in this tournament then he will become world number one gaining 1500 points.
All players have been divided into two groups in the tournament.
Federer will contest Andy Murray of Britain in Group A while US Open champion Juan Martin Del Potro and Fernando Verdasco of Spain are also included in this group.
In Group B, Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Nikolay Davydenko and Robin Soderling will face each other.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
ATP FINALS' DRAW
Draw for the round-robin stage of the ATP Tour finals which begin on Sunday at the O2 Arena in London (prefix denotes seeding).
Group A (1) Roger Federer (Switzerland) (4) Andy Murray (Britain) (5) Juan Martin del Potro (Argentina) (7) Fernando Verdasco (Spain)
Group B (2) Rafael Nadal (Spain) (3) Novak Djokovic (Serbia) (6) Nikolay Davydenko (Russia) (8) Robin Soderling (Sweden).
REUTERS
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
RODDICK OUT OF BARCLAY'S
Andy Roddick is withdrawing from the season-ending ATP World Tour Finals because of a left knee injury.
The No. 6-ranked Roddick hurt his knee at last month's Shanghai Masters.
The ATP said Tuesday that French Open runner-up Robin Soderling, No. 9 in the rankings, will take Roddick's spot in the eight-man field.
The draw for the tournament is Wednesday, and play starts Sunday. The other participants: Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Juan Martin del Potro, Nikolay Davydenko and Fernando Verdasco.
BARCLAY'S
Next week's ATP World Tour finals at London's O2 Centre will be the biggest indoor tennis event ever staged.
World number one Roger Federer heads the cast of the top eight singles players and eight doubles pairs who have qualified for the lucrative year-ending tournament that begins a five-year stay on the banks of the River Thames in Greenwich.
On the eve of Wednesday's draw which will be performed inside a pod of the London Eye -- the largest Ferris wheel in Europe -- more than 250,000 seats had been sold for the round-robin tournament which begins on Sunday.
A practice court has been constructed in the foyer of the venue so that the public, even those just visiting the cinema or restaurants, will have a chance to see top players in action.
After the traffic problems in Shanghai, London's organisers have also come up with a novel way to get the players from their central London hotel out to the venue -- they will go by boat.
"We have two 62-seater boats, they are smoother than a car and they will have the players door to door in 30 minutes. It's a really nice way for the players to see London.
With Federer joined by Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Juan Martin del Potro, Andy Roddick, Nikolay Davydenko and Fernando Verdasco the quality of the tennis on offer is matched by the prize money at stake.
Should a player win all his round-robin matches on the way to the title he would pocket $1.63 million, more than the 850,000 pounds ($1.43 million) Federer took from winning Wimbledon this year.
REUTERS
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
MAKE NO BONES
Some exercises do not promote bone density - swimming, weight training, cycling, walking.
Weight lifting isn’t explosive enough to stimulate such bone bending. Neither is swimming. Running can be, although for unknown reasons, it doesn’t seem to stimulate bone building in some people. Surprisingly, brisk walking has been found to be effective at increasing bone density in older women, Dr. Barry says. But it must be truly brisk. “The faster the pace,” he says — and presumably the greater the bending within the bones — the lower the risk that a person will fracture a bone.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
SWINE FLU
Tommy Haas, Germany's top-ranked tennis player, is recovering from swine flu.
"I did a test because I suspected that I had swine flu. The test was positive," Haas said in Tuesday's Bild newspaper. "Of course, it was a shock for me."
Haas told the paper he was already feeling better.
"I've calmed down now because although swine flu is a very strong form of flu, you can quickly overcome it when you're in good physical condition like I am," Haas said.
The 31-year-old Haas, ranked 17th in the world, pulled out of a tournament in Stockholm last week after becoming ill. He first thought it was normal flu but then had himself tested.
He also has pulled out of this week's Swiss Indoors and is unlikely to play next week at the Paris Masters.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
TACTFUL SAMPRAS
Q: Do you watch women's tennis?
A: You can ask someone like Kobe [Bryant] if he watches the [WNBA Los Angeles] Sparks. If I have time -- I've got two kids -- to watch something, it's not going to be ladies' tennis. It's going to be basketball or football. Ladies' tennis, there's some great players, but it's not anything I'm interested in.
LETTING HIS HAIR DOWN
The tennis star's brother was sent running around Paris to find bobby pins to keep Agassi's disintegrating spiked-mullet weave from coming off his head before a match in the 1990 French Open.
"Of course I could play without my hairpiece. But after months of derision, criticism, mockery, I'm too self-conscious," he wrote. "Image Is Everything? What would they say if they knew? Win or lose, they wouldn't talk about my game. They'd only talk about my hair. I can close my eyes and almost hear it. And I know I can't take it."
Read more: http://newsok.com/agassi-tells-mag-he-did-meth-for-a-year-or-so/article/3413261?custom_click=rss#ixzz0VeBMPnTL
Saturday, October 31, 2009
AGASSI'S DRAGON - HIS FATHER
I'm seven years old, talking to myself, because I'm scared, and because I'm the only person who listens to me. Under my breath I whisper: Just quit, Andre, just give up. Put down your racket and walk off this court, right now. Wouldn't that feel like heaven, Andre? To just quit? To never play tennis again?
But I can't. Not only would my father, Mike, chase me around the house with my racket, but something in my gut, some deep unseen muscle, won't let me. I hate tennis, hate it with all my heart, and still I keep playing, keep hitting all morning, and all afternoon, because I have no choice. No matter how much I want to stop, I don't. I keep begging myself to stop, and still I keep playing, and this gap, this contradiction between what I want to do and what I actually do, feels like the core of my life.
At the moment my hatred for tennis is focused on the dragon, a ball machine modified by my fire-belching father and set up on the court he built in our yard in Las Vegas. Midnight black, mounted on big rubber wheels, the dragon is a living, breathing creature straight out of my comic books. It has a brain, a will, a black heart -- and a horrifying voice. Sucking another ball into its belly, the dragon makes a series of sickening sounds. As pressure builds inside its throat, it groans. As the ball rises slowly to its mouth, it shrieks. And when the dragon takes dead aim at me and fires a ball 110 miles an hour, the sound it makes is a bloodthirsty roar. I flinch every time.
Read more: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2009/writers/the_bonus/10/30/andre.agassi/index.html?eref=si_tennis#ixzz0VWnTKWMr
My father has deliberately made the dragon fearsome. He's given it an extra-long neck of aluminum tubing, and a narrow aluminum head, which recoils like a whip every time the dragon fires. He's also set the dragon on a base several feet high and moved it flush against the net, so the dragon towers above me. I'm small for my age, but when standing before the dragon, I look tiny. Feel tiny. Helpless.
My father wants the dragon to tower over me not simply to command my attention and respect. He wants balls that shoot from the dragon's mouth to land at my feet as if dropped from an airplane. The trajectory makes the balls nearly impossible to return in a conventional way: I need to hit every ball on the rise, or else it will bounce over my head. But even that's not enough for my father. Hit earlier, he yells. Hit earlier.
My father yells everything twice, sometimes three times, sometimes 10. Harder, he says, harder. But what's the use? No matter how hard I hit a ball, no matter how early, another ball comes back. Every ball I send across the net joins the thousands that already cover the court. Not hundreds. Thousands. They roll toward me in perpetual waves. I have no room to turn, to step, to pivot. I can't move without stepping on a ball -- yet I can't step on a ball, because my father won't bear it. Step on one of my father's tennis balls and he'll howl as if you stepped on his eyeball.
Every third ball fired by the dragon hits a ball already on the ground, causing a crazy sideways hop. I adjust at the last second, catch the ball early, and hit it smartly across the net. I know this is no ordinary reflex. I know there are few children in the world who could have seen that ball, let alone hit it. But I take no pride in my reflexes, and I get no credit. It's what I'm supposed to do. Every hit is expected, every miss a crisis.
My father says that if I hit 2,500 balls each day, I'll hit 17,500 balls each week, and at the end of one year I'll have hit nearly one million balls. He believes in math. Numbers, he says, don't lie. A child who hits one million balls each year will be unbeatable.
Hit earlier, my father yells. Damn it, Andre, hit earlier. Crowd the ball, crowd the ball.
Now he's crowding me. He's yelling in my ear. It's not enough to hit what the dragon fires at me; my father wants me to hit it harder and faster than the dragon. He wants me to beat the dragon. The thought makes me panicky. How can you beat something that never stops? Come to think of it, the dragon is a lot like my father. Except my father is worse. At least the dragon stands before me, where I can see it. My father stays behind me. I rarely see him, only hear him, day and night, yelling in my ear.
More topspin! Hit harder. Hit harder. Not in the net! Damn it, Andre! Never in the net!
Nothing sends my father into a rage like hitting a ball into the net. Over and over my father says: The net is your biggest enemy.
My father has raised the enemy six inches higher than regulation. If I can clear my father's high net, he figures, I'll have no trouble clearing the net one day at Wimbledon. Never mind that I don't want to play Wimbledon. What I want isn't relevant.
Hit harder, my father yells. Hit harder. Now backhands. Backhands. My arm feels like it's going to fall off. On one swing I surprise myself by how hard I hit, how cleanly. Though I hate tennis, I like the feeling of hitting a ball dead perfect. When I do something perfect, I enjoy a split second of sanity and calm.
Work your volleys, my father yells, or tries to. An Armenian born in Iran, my father speaks five languages, none of them well, and his English is heavily accented. He mixes his v's and w's, so it sounds like this: Vork your wolleys. Of all his instructions, this is his favorite. He yells it until I hear it in my dreams. Vork your wolleys, vork your wolleys.
I get an idea. Accidentally on purpose, I hit a ball high over the fence. I catch it on the wooden rim of the racket, so it sounds like a misfire. I do this when I need a break, and it crosses my mind that I must be pretty good if I can hit a ball wrong at will.
My father hears the ball hit wood and looks up. He sees the ball leave the court. He curses. But he heard the ball hit wood, so he knows it was an accident. He stomps out of the yard, to the desert. I now have 4 1/ 2 minutes to catch my breath and watch the hawks circling lazily overhead.
My father likes to shoot hawks with his rifle. Our house is blanketed with his victims, dead birds that cover the roof as thickly as tennis balls cover the court. My father says he doesn't like hawks because they swoop down on mice and other defenseless desert creatures. He can't stand the thought of something strong preying on something weak. (This also holds true when he goes fishing: Whatever he catches, he kisses its scaly head and throws it back.) Of course he has no qualms about preying on me, no trouble watching me gasp for air on his hook.
Violent by nature, my father is forever preparing for battle. He shadowboxes constantly. He keeps an ax handle in his car. He leaves the house with a handful of salt and pepper in each pocket, in case he's in a street fight and needs to blind someone. Of course some of his most vicious battles are with himself. He has chronic stiffness in his neck, and he's perpetually loosening the neck bones by angrily twisting and yanking his head. When this doesn't work he shakes himself like a dog, whipping his head from side to side until the neck gives and makes a sound like popcorn popping. When even this doesn't work, he resorts to the heavy punching bag that hangs from a harness outside our house. My father stands on a chair, removes the punching bag and places his neck in the harness. He then kicks away the chair and drops a foot through the air, his momentum abruptly halted by the harness. The first time I saw him do this, I had no doubt he'd killed himself. I ran to him, hysterical. Seeing the stricken look on my face, he barked: What the f--- is the matter with you?
Most of his battles, however, are against others, and they typically begin without warning, at the most unexpected times. In his sleep, for instance. He boxes in his dreams and frequently punches my dozing mother. In the car too. If another driver crosses him, if another driver cuts him off or objects to being cut off by my father, everything goes dark.
I'm riding with my father one day, and he gets into a shouting match with another driver. My father stops his car, steps out, orders the man out of his. Because my father is wielding his ax handle, the man refuses. My father whips the ax handle into the man's headlights and taillights, sending sprays of glass everywhere.
Another time my father reaches across me and points his handgun at another driver. He holds the gun level with my nose. I stare straight ahead. I don't move. I don't know what the other driver has done wrong, only that it's the automotive equivalent of hitting into the net. I feel my father's finger tensing on the trigger. Then I hear the other driver speed away, followed by a sound I rarely hear -- my father laughing. He's busting a gut.
Such moments come to mind whenever I think about telling my father that I don't want to play tennis. Besides loving my father and wanting to please him, I don't want to upset him. I don't dare. Bad stuff happens when my father is upset. If he says I'm going to play tennis, if he says I'm going to be No. 1 in the world, that it's my destiny, all I can do is nod and obey.
Read more: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2009/writers/the_bonus/10/30/andre.agassi/2.html#ixzz0VWoNO8RD
Excerpted from Open: An Autobiography, by Andre Agassi. © 2009 ALA Publishing LLC. Published by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of The Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc.
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