He was seeded number one and played to that seeding, so I guess his victory is not surprising. He simply fulfilled what was expected of him…right?
Right, no argument there.
I’m not surprised that he won but I am astonished at how relatively easily he did it.
There was simply no resistance until the semis against defending champ, Stan Wawrinka. And though they went five sets as they did in the two previous editions of this event, the fifth set was simply an act of “going through the motions.” Djokovic won 6-0.
Murray’s route was fairly straightforward as well. I thought Australian phenom (I use that term loosely), Kyrgios might present some difficulty, but hell, he should send Murray a check for the lesson he received. Murray thumped him in straights.
He then rather routinely dismantled, what appeared to me to be an improved Berdych who was creaming everyone he played prior to his semi with Andy.
And then came the final. Djokovic vs Murray.
Both guys entered the stadium on top of their respective games. There were no injury reports circulating, no known emotional issues with which either was dealing. Djoker is a happily contented new daddy. Murray reached the final with female coach Amelie Mauresmo in a comprehensively mellow way, silencing many who questioned his choice of coaches after having broken through the slam barrier under the tutelage of the great Ivan Lendl.
In short, the stage was set for a great match.
The first set, by all standards, was phenomenal tennis. Djokovic squeaked by in a tiebreak. Murray returned the favor in the second, also by tiebreak.
But their was something odd about the second set which caused me to utter, “uh oh, here it comes.”
A fan or just a person, I don’t know which, charged onto the court to demonstrate in favor of what I can only assume was some political agenda. Play was halted until the intruder was removed by security.
But that wasn’t what gave me “cause for pause.”
During that period, both players were sitting getting a much-needed breather. The play had been stratospheric in quality and physically demanding.
Now, in that second set, Djokovic appeared to be injured, sick, exhausted, wobbly, weak I dunno, something. Then, a member of his team summoned a ball kid over to the players box and handed him two bottles of liquid to deliver to Novak.
Listen, I don’t know what the stuff was but I want some of that potion.
Gimme some of that magic juice!
I certainly don’t think it was anything illegal. That would have been way, way too brazen to have been done before an international audience on such an important day. But after having some sips of the stuff, all of a sudden Djokovic was a new man. It was as though he hadn’t played those many grueling points.
I just don’t get it, but then I’ve expressed my opinion before about whether Djoker is really 100% human flesh and blood. He’s just too rubbery, too flexible, too loose, too I dunno…freakish?! I mean, the guy’s body can contort in ways that defy explanation. What’s more, the thing withstands all the acrobatic contortions and doesn’t break.
I’d like to see some x-rays of his joints, some analysis of his muscle fibers, you know, whether there is a preponderance of fast or slow twitch fibers, or maybe, just maybe, additionally, some “other worldly” fibers.
I’m telling ya, the guy ain’t right. And by the way, have you ever noticed how when he is about to return serve, he opens his eyes really wide, bug-eyed for an instant. I think when he does that, he’s able to access from a remote region of his brain, some additional pixels that add super clarity to the incoming ball. I mean come on, look how well he returns serve. He’s the best returner in the game.
How the hell does he see 130+ mph balls so well?
It’s those added pixels man!
I’m telling ya, it ain’t natural!
He’s got an unfair advantage over the rest of the guys, what with the the “gumbyism,” magic elixir, extra pixels, the “f**k it mode” where he just swings away with reckless abandon and the balls result in flat-footed winners against the fastest players on the planet.
He used it all on poor Andy Murray and by the third set, you could see Murray beginning to surrender to the inevitable.
He was had.
Gumby got him.