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Gutsy Gals
I was overthinking the unseemly spat in a second-round singles match at the U.S. Open, wherein the loser, Jelena Ostapenko, instead of the customary, “well done, girl,” called Taylor Townsend a lowlife. I really should have just put it down to bad manners or stress or just the girl being herself. (RELATED: Taylor Townsend Holds Her Ground)
She said to Taylor Townsend that she had “no education,” and a couple of days later she explained that English is not her native language, and by “education” she means one’s general comportment, derived from experience, role models, and culture. The connotation exists in English as well, e.g., The Education of Henry Adams.
The thing started with a lucky “net cord” in the first set — a ball nicking the net and taking an unexpected bounce, resulting in an arguably unearned point, for which it is customary to signal “sorry” with a wave of the hand or a mouthed word in any language. Taylor won the set and the match decisively.
The incident seemed rather unimportant, although like anyone else, I was surprised by the vehemence of Jelena Ostapenko’s bitterness, which obviously she had not gotten over by the end of the match. I knew Jelena for a girl, young lady, with a short fuse, known for angry outbursts and accusations (her fierce playing style likewise is effective when it’s on but inconsistent when her rivals disrupt it with sly play), and also for her own tendency to complain about “gamesmanship,” e.g. taking unserious medical timeouts to break the other side’s momentum, while herself not being averse to such gimmicks.
Turn the page and play, thought I. But the commentariat exploded with fury at the idea of a Baltic girl taking it for granted that a colored, or Black, American girl has neither letters nor manners. And saying it out loud at the U.S. Open, which is currently celebrating the 75th anniversary of Althea Gibson’s win at what then was called the U.S. Nationals, after being denied entry for several years on account of her race. And, note, generally ignoring the fact that Taylor herself had been dismissed from a USTA junior development program for being overweight, and their only excuse was that it was “for her health.” She returned to her family and continued her tennis education.
This was about ten years ago, and now Taylor Townsend was the darling of the year’s final and grandest major, world no. 1 in doubles, and fan favorite. Personally, I think Taylor is a superb tennis player and a courteous, friendly, candid, outspoken, generous individual, on and off the courts, and she was being far more correct to Jelena than Jelena in her half-apology was to her. And yet the brouhaha brought out something unsavory about sports that itself brings out something unsavory about our current mores. We look at the wrong end of fake issues, basically. This has no edifying purpose, and it spills over into other things.
It is perfectly true that Taylor Townsend was treated unfairly by the USTA, just as Althea Gibson was way back in the 1950s. Some people rise above slights and, as Taylor herself said at one of her press conferences, trials and tribulations. Althea Gibson famously said she was proud to have had the chance to give something to her sport and her country, and she lived at a time when getting a hotel room at a tournament venue was often a major problem. She retired in poverty, with scarcely any help from the sport she had done much to enrich.
Although I do not know her, I venture the possibility that the poor excuse for an apology the Latvian girl-torpedo offered the American is little more than what the armchair shrinks call projection, and it was not to the credit of the yak-yak class to buzz on about it at the National Tennis Center in Flushing, Queens.
Better to save the who-said-what debates for the barstools. Sort of as you would think Queens’ most famous pol might stop replaying the same grudges — as he promised to do — and get on with making American ships the best and mostest in the world, among other things, including staying out of sports other than encouraging kids to play them.
Anyhow, the page turned, as it tends to, because the news moved: Taylor Townsend won another doubles match, then she beat a teen phenom in singles. She was playing in both singles and doubles, so she was on every day; one-draw players get a day off. Taylor was going all out, terrific stamina and determination, aiming to win two trophies, the darling of the tournament. Then disaster struck, and she was out of the singles, and keep in mind she had been knocked out of the mixed doubles draw, played a week earlier, partnering with top American Ben Shelton, himself forced to withdraw in the third round with an injury to his arm.
Unfair plot twists, maybe. The star stumbles, killing the favored narrative.
What was interesting here, apart from edge-of-seat thrills, is that it was a rare singles match between two doubles greats.
But did she really? Or did someone play better? What everyone at Louis Armstrong Stadium could see was that Miss Townsend was sensational, playing a fierce and fearless singles match with the fast moves and shrewd reflexes befitting a great doubles player. It seemed her opponent, the usually steady Barbora Krejcikova, was the one stumbling, dropping the first set 1-6 with untypical errors and service faults, while Taylor kept up the pressure with baseline shots to the lines, big serves, super accurate slice volleys.
No net cords today for anyone to complain about; moving like a mighty wave, Taylor could have been hearing the chords of the Surfaris’ 1963 hit, “Wipeout.’
Admittedly, long before her time. She went right on winning through the beginning of the second set. Then Barbora got her act together — hearing the chords of Dvorak’s New World symphony in her head? — and the match turned into a classic. No need for verbal inflation, it was maybe not quite that. But it sure was a class act, times two.
What was interesting here, apart from edge-of-seat thrills, is that it was a rare singles match between two doubles greats. Taylor Townsend’s career really took off when she began winning big with, in fact, Barbora Krejcikova’s former doubles partner and compatriot, Katerina Siniakova, with whom Taylor won the Australian Open this year and the French Open last year and may well win the U.S. Open this year. She won at the Washington Open a few weeks ago with the great Chinese doubles tactician, Zang Shuai, beating the Williams-Fernandez team along the way. They will be meeting again here in the quarter-finals.
Miss Krejcikova, who is the same age as both Misses Townsend and Siniakova, started her pro career when barely in her teens and has won just about everything possible in doubles, including all the majors. And she is also a two-time singles winner, at Roland Garros and Wimbledon. She is shrewd and gritty, can create and counterpace well as anyone else. She hits targets from impossible positions. You can, within reason, compare her to such legends as Margaret Court and Serena Williams for her “all-court” talent. And she never quits.
What was on the line was a place in the coveted second week in the singles draw. The way Barbora Krejcikova lost the first set was shocking, given her reputation for consistency.
I must admit I could not resist muttering to myself, “You do not see Taylor saying mean things about people behaving thus and so in their own countries or anywhere else, and neither would either Barbora or Katerina.” Then again, they are Czechs, where folks tend to be low-key, modest, polite, ironic, and funny, often with a sly edge.
Which is understandable, what with Germans on one side, Hungarians on the other. Jelena Ostapenko, in addition to being from Latvia, is of Ukrainian ancestry. Meaning both sides of the family live in terror of Russians. You don’t see Ukrainian men at the tournaments, and you can easily guess why. Nor Israeli men, I might add, nor women.
So give her some slack, as indeed Taylor did.
Between Taylor and Barbora, there is only respect, and the best way they showed this was by not giving any slack at all, not an inch, not a point. And never complaining about where or how the ball bounced.
In the middle of the second set, Barbora stopped being the demure Czech girl, found her feet, her legs, her eyes, her powerful strokes, her ability to graze the lines with high-pace winners, her strong and steady serves. It was as if a different Barbora had suddenly appeared, and she had Taylor on the ropes.
But not quite, no: they had each other on the ropes. Taylor faltered under the barrage but fought back like a tigress. It was the match of the week, maybe the women’s match of the tournament. They were tied at 3-3, or was it 4-4, scarcely matters, and then they got into an absolutely unheard of battle of break points and then set-points — match points in Taylor’s case, since she was up a set — and it just kept going. It never stopped. They went into a tiebreak that could have gone either way, not once but several times, not several times but many times. Taylor piled up six, seven, nine match points, somewhere around there. Barbora needed five set points to finally clinch it with an overhead smash volley, 15-13.
After this, there had to be a letdown. Many fine points were played in the third set, but Miss Townsend was spent, and Miss Krejcikova was in command. The third set went to 6-3; if memory serves, Taylor hit long from the baseline, and that did it. They gasped with relief, shook hands, congratulated each other, and walked off the court heads high. They had lasted. They endured. They gave gracious press conferences, generous to each other and optimistic for their own futures. They had shown that you can be a point away from defeat and disaster and still make it to being a point away from victory and triumph. Never quit, never give up. If that is how you play, then even in losing, you are undefeated.
READ MORE from Roger Kaplan:
Taylor Townsend Holds Her Ground
Rhythm and Serves and Songs and Swings
Venus and Taylor and Shuai and Hailey
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