A final goodbye....
When Marat Safin walks out on the grass courts at SW19, it will be his last Wimbledon. The mercurial Russian has never really been fond of grass, much rather preferring the hard courts. The volatile giant will be looking to say a final goodbye as he bids adieu to the sport, a world he dominated in fits and starts, never really leaving a consistent mark.
When he won the US Open in 2000 as a bumbling 20-year-old, hacks and experts announced the arrival of an undeniable talent. After all, the kid had just beaten Pete Sampras, one of the greatest legends in tennis, in straight sets. His performance at one of the biggest stages was unbelievable, his talent raw and explosive, his temperament volatile and uncontained. But everyone believed that this young lad would go on to achieve more and more and establish himself in the top tier.
Safin did hold the top spot in men’s tennis after his US Open triumph, for precisely nine weeks. He won the Australian Open in 2005 by beating the local favourite, Lleyton Hewitt. To beat Hewitt in Melbourne in a final requires a lot of self-belief and heart. And Safin had them in plenty. But somewhere along the way, he faltered. And fell. And was never able to regain his composure and play. Injuries hit him hard – first a debilitating knee injury that forced him to spend most of his time limping, being out for almost all of 2003. And then a back problem recently seems to have taken a toll on his health. It appears that every time he tries to make a comeback, some forces of nature try to raise impediments in his path. Maybe to test his fortitude and mentality. And Safin often falls.
One thing that Safin has always lacked has been consistency. He has smashed more tennis rackets in his career than anyone else. He has been embroiled in more arguments and verbal jousts with chair umpires and linesmen than probably anyone else. The man talks to himself on court, he gesticulates wildly, he berates himself for losing a point. Most of the tennis players do this while playing. But Safin does this with a difference. There is nothing pretentious about him. Or the way he does it. It is unbridled emotions at work (or play). The man smashes and trundles rackets with a heart.
Safin has always been one for entertainment. His playboy lifestyle, coupled with humorous banter and fits of temper, have kept journalists busy with their biros scribbling furiously. When he pulled down his shorts after winning an important point against Felix Mantilla in the 2004 French Open, he was celebrating. Openly. Honestly. In a way he could best express himself in. The speactators were amused. So was the media. Unfortunately the chair umpire was not, and Safin lost the point.
When Safin bows out for the final time, the circuit will be shorn of a performer, an entertainer. A player hailed as “the next big thing”. A player whose ground strokes and backhand were a treat to watch, the immense power overwhelming even his closest opponents. A man of such sheer talent and physicality that his opponents described him as a “goliath”. But the Goliath was slain by many a David. And therein lies the hurt. Safin did not really achieve all that he could have. He was too busy smashing rackets.
When he won the US Open in 2000 as a bumbling 20-year-old, hacks and experts announced the arrival of an undeniable talent. After all, the kid had just beaten Pete Sampras, one of the greatest legends in tennis, in straight sets. His performance at one of the biggest stages was unbelievable, his talent raw and explosive, his temperament volatile and uncontained. But everyone believed that this young lad would go on to achieve more and more and establish himself in the top tier.
Safin did hold the top spot in men’s tennis after his US Open triumph, for precisely nine weeks. He won the Australian Open in 2005 by beating the local favourite, Lleyton Hewitt. To beat Hewitt in Melbourne in a final requires a lot of self-belief and heart. And Safin had them in plenty. But somewhere along the way, he faltered. And fell. And was never able to regain his composure and play. Injuries hit him hard – first a debilitating knee injury that forced him to spend most of his time limping, being out for almost all of 2003. And then a back problem recently seems to have taken a toll on his health. It appears that every time he tries to make a comeback, some forces of nature try to raise impediments in his path. Maybe to test his fortitude and mentality. And Safin often falls.
One thing that Safin has always lacked has been consistency. He has smashed more tennis rackets in his career than anyone else. He has been embroiled in more arguments and verbal jousts with chair umpires and linesmen than probably anyone else. The man talks to himself on court, he gesticulates wildly, he berates himself for losing a point. Most of the tennis players do this while playing. But Safin does this with a difference. There is nothing pretentious about him. Or the way he does it. It is unbridled emotions at work (or play). The man smashes and trundles rackets with a heart.
Safin has always been one for entertainment. His playboy lifestyle, coupled with humorous banter and fits of temper, have kept journalists busy with their biros scribbling furiously. When he pulled down his shorts after winning an important point against Felix Mantilla in the 2004 French Open, he was celebrating. Openly. Honestly. In a way he could best express himself in. The speactators were amused. So was the media. Unfortunately the chair umpire was not, and Safin lost the point.
When Safin bows out for the final time, the circuit will be shorn of a performer, an entertainer. A player hailed as “the next big thing”. A player whose ground strokes and backhand were a treat to watch, the immense power overwhelming even his closest opponents. A man of such sheer talent and physicality that his opponents described him as a “goliath”. But the Goliath was slain by many a David. And therein lies the hurt. Safin did not really achieve all that he could have. He was too busy smashing rackets.
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