Post by TennisHack on Sept 23, 2007 22:07:39 GMT -5
Thought this was an interesting take on Henman, from Bob Larson:
Goodbye to Oor Tim
Long ago, in a country beyond the sea, where strange beasts walked the land and stars shone that few had ever seen, a sailor walked along the shore. And there he found a jar, beautifully carved and wrapped in cords of a golden hue. The sailor picked it up, and opened it. And out came a djinn.
Now the djinni are not what some have called them, creatures of pure wickedness. But neither are they the friendly servants told of in Western tales. No, the djinni are creatures of power, but they are tricksters and hard to understand. And so, when the djinn addressed the sailor, he granted him three wishes. "But the wishes," said the djinn, "must be carefully chosen." Each wish must be greater than the one before, but if the third wish was too great, he would lose all three. And he must ask for all three wishes before the sun set.
The sailor was a simple man. First, he asked that the most beautiful woman in his village consent to be his bride. "That is easy enough," said the djinn. "When you return home, go to her father's house, and show him this token from the Emir of Homs, and he will gladly have you as a son-in-law."
Emboldened, the sailor asked to have a good home in which to live with his new bride, with enough wealth to keep them both comfortable all their days. "That is easy enough," said the djinn. "Once you have spoken to your bride's father, take the token to the merchant Omar ibn Hussein. Say that you have come to claim the inheritance the Emir left for the son of Shamlain. You will never want again." Finally, the sailor asked that he be allowed to enjoy a long life with all that had been granted him by the first two wishes.
"Fool!" declared the djinn. "Do you not know that no magic can bring peace? Only those who dwell above the sky can grant that!" And the djinn vanished, and the token in the sailor's hand fell to dust. This might almost be the tale of Great Britain and Tim Henman. First the British wished to have a respectable player. Then they wished to have a very good player. Then they wished for a Wimbledon winner -- and suddenly what they had seemed to lose all its worth.
Henman really was a very good player. And yet, he seemed to break British hearts. It wasn't always so. Early on, few noticed him. He was just another of the young British players who might be good enough but who certainly wasn't looking like a future national #1. And various injuries hobbled him early in his career, so he was always somewhat behind his peers.
Then came 1995. He actually won a match at Wimbledon. And he reached the Top Hundred by year-end. He was not then Britain's #1 -- Greg Rusedski was that. But his every accomplishment caused him to be labelled "the first British player since...." It was promising.
More than promising. One year later, he would be Top Thirty. A year after that, Top Twenty. And, the year after that, Top Ten. It was not the last time: He was in the year-end Top Ten five times: #7 in 1998, #10 in 2000, #9 in 2001, #8 in 2002, and #6 in 2004. He was Top Twenty for about eight years. He peaked at #4 in 2002, spending about a month there, and was managed to return to #5 as late as April 2005.
And he won 11 titles -- all of them, ironically, on hardcourt and carpet; despite being one of the last players to be able to play true serve-and-volley tennis, he never won a grass title. He won Sydney and Tashkent on hardcourt in 1997, earned his first title defence at Tashkent in 1998, and also won Basel on indoor hardcourt. In 2000, he won Vienna and Brighton, both on indoor hardcourt. In 2001, he added Copenhagen on indoor hardcourt and Basel on carpet. The hardcourt title at Adelaide followed in 2002, then a hardcourt title at Washington in 2003. His last title was also his biggest: He won his only Masters at Paris in 2003, on carpet. There were four doubles titles as well, all at pretty good events: Basel 1997, Monte Carlo 1999, London 1999, and Monte Carlo 2004. He also picked up a silver medal in the 1996 Olympic doubles.
He never made a Slam final, but he had semifinals at all of them except the Australian Open, including four at Wimbledon (1998, 1999, 2001, 2002), plus Roland Garros and the U. S. Open in 2004. Few players seem to have been so clearly destined to retire at 30. In 2005, injuries and disinterest started to hit; from #6 at the end of 2004, he fell to #36 at the end of 2005, #39 at the end of 2006; this year, he has hardly been able to play, and finds himself below #90. It was not a hall of fame career. But it would surely have seemed very good indeed, had he not had to carry so many expectations. He was an excellent #2 who was perhaps just a little overburdened by the pressure of being his nation's #1.
All the pressure and all the sadness for Henman's last match were spent during his singles match on Friday; Saturday was pure celebration. The packed house at Wimbledon's Court One blew horns, waved banners, and generally whooped it up while they watched Henman (and partner Jamie Murray) win the doubles in four sets. It was, fittingly, a Henman winner that finally locked in the tie and put Britain back into the World Group.
Henman leaves British tennis in a significantly better state than he found it. People have become so used to Henman, the perennial semifinalist, that they forget that a decade ago no British man had played a Wimbledon semifinal since Roger Taylor in 1973. A decade ago, the best Britain had to offer was Jeremy Bates, who late in his career lost two Wimbledon quarterfinals and won the mixed with Joe Durie.
Andrew Castle and Greg Rusedski, on hand to do commentary for the BBC, joked that Jamie Murray sends all his Davis Cup doubles partners into retirement. If his next partner is his brother Andy, he'd better not. The flag of British tennis was passed to Andy with a hug, a nod, and a few unmiked words. "It's all on his shoulders now," said Andrew Castle. Murray will have work to do to match Henman -- the best British player since Fred Perry.
(Thanks to Wendy M. Grossman for assistance with this story.)
Goodbye to Oor Tim
Long ago, in a country beyond the sea, where strange beasts walked the land and stars shone that few had ever seen, a sailor walked along the shore. And there he found a jar, beautifully carved and wrapped in cords of a golden hue. The sailor picked it up, and opened it. And out came a djinn.
Now the djinni are not what some have called them, creatures of pure wickedness. But neither are they the friendly servants told of in Western tales. No, the djinni are creatures of power, but they are tricksters and hard to understand. And so, when the djinn addressed the sailor, he granted him three wishes. "But the wishes," said the djinn, "must be carefully chosen." Each wish must be greater than the one before, but if the third wish was too great, he would lose all three. And he must ask for all three wishes before the sun set.
The sailor was a simple man. First, he asked that the most beautiful woman in his village consent to be his bride. "That is easy enough," said the djinn. "When you return home, go to her father's house, and show him this token from the Emir of Homs, and he will gladly have you as a son-in-law."
Emboldened, the sailor asked to have a good home in which to live with his new bride, with enough wealth to keep them both comfortable all their days. "That is easy enough," said the djinn. "Once you have spoken to your bride's father, take the token to the merchant Omar ibn Hussein. Say that you have come to claim the inheritance the Emir left for the son of Shamlain. You will never want again." Finally, the sailor asked that he be allowed to enjoy a long life with all that had been granted him by the first two wishes.
"Fool!" declared the djinn. "Do you not know that no magic can bring peace? Only those who dwell above the sky can grant that!" And the djinn vanished, and the token in the sailor's hand fell to dust. This might almost be the tale of Great Britain and Tim Henman. First the British wished to have a respectable player. Then they wished to have a very good player. Then they wished for a Wimbledon winner -- and suddenly what they had seemed to lose all its worth.
Henman really was a very good player. And yet, he seemed to break British hearts. It wasn't always so. Early on, few noticed him. He was just another of the young British players who might be good enough but who certainly wasn't looking like a future national #1. And various injuries hobbled him early in his career, so he was always somewhat behind his peers.
Then came 1995. He actually won a match at Wimbledon. And he reached the Top Hundred by year-end. He was not then Britain's #1 -- Greg Rusedski was that. But his every accomplishment caused him to be labelled "the first British player since...." It was promising.
More than promising. One year later, he would be Top Thirty. A year after that, Top Twenty. And, the year after that, Top Ten. It was not the last time: He was in the year-end Top Ten five times: #7 in 1998, #10 in 2000, #9 in 2001, #8 in 2002, and #6 in 2004. He was Top Twenty for about eight years. He peaked at #4 in 2002, spending about a month there, and was managed to return to #5 as late as April 2005.
And he won 11 titles -- all of them, ironically, on hardcourt and carpet; despite being one of the last players to be able to play true serve-and-volley tennis, he never won a grass title. He won Sydney and Tashkent on hardcourt in 1997, earned his first title defence at Tashkent in 1998, and also won Basel on indoor hardcourt. In 2000, he won Vienna and Brighton, both on indoor hardcourt. In 2001, he added Copenhagen on indoor hardcourt and Basel on carpet. The hardcourt title at Adelaide followed in 2002, then a hardcourt title at Washington in 2003. His last title was also his biggest: He won his only Masters at Paris in 2003, on carpet. There were four doubles titles as well, all at pretty good events: Basel 1997, Monte Carlo 1999, London 1999, and Monte Carlo 2004. He also picked up a silver medal in the 1996 Olympic doubles.
He never made a Slam final, but he had semifinals at all of them except the Australian Open, including four at Wimbledon (1998, 1999, 2001, 2002), plus Roland Garros and the U. S. Open in 2004. Few players seem to have been so clearly destined to retire at 30. In 2005, injuries and disinterest started to hit; from #6 at the end of 2004, he fell to #36 at the end of 2005, #39 at the end of 2006; this year, he has hardly been able to play, and finds himself below #90. It was not a hall of fame career. But it would surely have seemed very good indeed, had he not had to carry so many expectations. He was an excellent #2 who was perhaps just a little overburdened by the pressure of being his nation's #1.
All the pressure and all the sadness for Henman's last match were spent during his singles match on Friday; Saturday was pure celebration. The packed house at Wimbledon's Court One blew horns, waved banners, and generally whooped it up while they watched Henman (and partner Jamie Murray) win the doubles in four sets. It was, fittingly, a Henman winner that finally locked in the tie and put Britain back into the World Group.
Henman leaves British tennis in a significantly better state than he found it. People have become so used to Henman, the perennial semifinalist, that they forget that a decade ago no British man had played a Wimbledon semifinal since Roger Taylor in 1973. A decade ago, the best Britain had to offer was Jeremy Bates, who late in his career lost two Wimbledon quarterfinals and won the mixed with Joe Durie.
Andrew Castle and Greg Rusedski, on hand to do commentary for the BBC, joked that Jamie Murray sends all his Davis Cup doubles partners into retirement. If his next partner is his brother Andy, he'd better not. The flag of British tennis was passed to Andy with a hug, a nod, and a few unmiked words. "It's all on his shoulders now," said Andrew Castle. Murray will have work to do to match Henman -- the best British player since Fred Perry.
(Thanks to Wendy M. Grossman for assistance with this story.)