Fognini closes his mind on the Open — it’s ‘the worst’

By Art Spander

NEW YORK — So Fabio Fognini, who most Americans wouldn’t know from Giuseppe Verdi, except Fognini probably has a better forehand, says the U.S. Open is worst of the four tennis Grand Slam tournaments. Maybe we could get a comment from Colin Kaepernick.

Fognini’s dislike of the event surfaced when he was warned for whacking a ball in anger after losing a point and subsequently received a point penalty for — he said — jokingly grabbing a line judge’s sunglasses.

“They have their rules,” Fognini told writers from Italy. “You know the Americans are different in every way.”

Meaning we walk on all fours?

“Of the Grand Slams,” he specified. “this, as far as I’m concerned, is the worst.”  

Apparently he spoke without consulting his wife, Flavia Pennetta, who, having won the women’s singles last year over Roberta Vinci in the final, surely has a different opinion.

If, however, Fognini has such low regard of the Open, perhaps, as one tennis official pointed out, he shouldn’t enter.

“But then,” the man reminded, “he wouldn’t have a chance to make money.”

Worst or best — and the vote here is very much toward the latter — the Open is a joy, two weeks of high-class sport and New York madness, an event as much as a championship where the crowds are huge, the competition tense and a kid can get an autograph almost as easily as he can a kosher hot dog.

The whole idea in entertainment, and sports is yet another form, is to, well, entertain, whether it’s a hot musical like “Hamilton,” where tickets before the cast change were selling in the $500 range, or a concert or ball game. To make the people feel good.

They figured out how to do that long ago at the Open, where music blares, fountains spray and it’s just as much fun to watch a key match on the big screen facing the plaza as it is inside the largest arena in tennis, 23,771-seat Arthur Ashe Stadium.

In this city that never sleeps, the tennis starts each day a few minutes after 11 a.m. and lasts until, well,Tuesday. The match in which Madison Keys defeated Alison Riske started Monday night and lasted 2 hours 26 minutes, ending at 1:48 a.m., the latest ever for a women’s match.

The fans who stayed until the end cheered — themselves, as well as Keys and Riske. Nobody leaves early in New York, even if early is late. Besides, the subway’s still running, and there’s a place on East 51st Street, Bateau Ivre, that serves full meals until 4 a.m. So what’s the rush?

The Open is part history and part circus, and it now has a new big top, a retractable roof, which if the forecast for rain on Thursday is accurate may very well become a grand part of this Grand Slam — the one Fognini slammed grandly, if incorrectly.

Yes, jets from LaGuardia, a few miles away, roar above, but not continually. The wind off Flushing Bay whips around the court at Ashe, but not constantly. If Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic and Serena Williams have won titles there, who can complain? Except Fognini

The Billie Jean King National Center is smack in the middle of a park where the 1964 World’s Fair was held, anchored in a way by the Unisphere, the huge stainless steel representation of the earth constructed for the fair. To come from the south, past the 120-foot sphere, then enter the Court of Champions, past the plaques of everyone from Bill Tilden to Oakland’s Don Budge to Helen Wills, born in Alameda County, to John McEnroe to King herself is a real experience.

A country needs familiar sporting locales, places such as Wimbledon, Churchill Downs, Augusta National, the Rose Bowl — and, as is the case with Billie Jean King Center, places identified with greatness, with triumph.

The U.S. Open draws 700,000 people during its two-week run. On Broadway, they would call that a box office smash, boffo. But Fabio Fognini would rather be anywhere else. Poor fellow.

Venus Williams remains ageless and remarkable

By Art Spander

NEW YORK — The years go on and, for Venus Williams, so do the games. She is long past the point of no return — and interpret that any way you choose. The serves no longer are ferocious, but they are effective. More importantly, her tennis is timeless.

No one asks her when she’ll retire. Or even if she’ll retire. And why should she?

Venus can live with the game she plays at 36, which unsurprisingly isn’t the one she had at 26. If there are no more Grand Slam championships, there at least is a sense of accomplishment.

It’s her younger sister, Serena, who has been atop the women’s tennis stairway, the way 15 years ago Venus was in that enviable position. On Monday, Venus, in her opening match of the 2016 U.S. Open, was in the final slot of the afternoon program at Arthur Ashe Court, a winner, if not easily, 6-2, 5-7, 6-4, in 2 hours and 42 minutes over Kateryna Kozlova of the Ukraine.

Then, when Venus was being debriefed in the main interview room below the stadium, Serena, the No. 1 seed, was on court, defeating Ekaterina Makarova of Russia, 6-3, 6-3.

“I always admired her game,” Venus said in sisterly admiration of Serena, who will be 35 in September. “Just so fearless.”

Of Venus, we could say, just so amazing. Tennis is a sport that wrenches wrists and ruins ankles and knees. No less, it wears out psyches. There comes a moment when a player, having hit balls since she or he was a child, says, “That’s it, enough.” But Venus never gets enough.

Maybe because she has a fashion house — the New York Times ran a full spread on the designing and planning of dresses and tops — which gets her far enough away from tennis that it’s almost an escape to get back. Not the other way around.

Venus has appeared in the four Grand Slam events a total of 72 times, more than anyone else. When told, she replied, “That’s crazy.” More accurately, that’s persistence.

“I’m grateful and I’m blessed,” she said about a career that began in a tournament at what then was the Oakland Coliseum Arena in 1994. “All I’m hoping for is just health that I can keep the record going.

“I don’t know when I’m going to stop playing. I don’t have any plans now. I’m playing too well to be thinking about stopping. I appear to be getting better and better each and every month.”

An exaggeration, but an allowable one. When in 2011 she disclosed she had been stricken with an autoimmune disorder, Sjogren’s syndrome, the suspicion was Williams was finished as a competitive player. And for a few tournaments she appeared to lack energy, although not intent.

Then these past few months, Williams for the first time in seven years made it to the Wimbledon semifinals, the finals of the Bank of the West Classic and, with Rajeev Ram, the finals of the Olympics mixed doubles, indicating that she still was a factor.

“As an athlete,” she said, “you’re always aiming for perfection. You want more and more. It’s never enough.”

That thought would be echoed by the American public, which in a sport built upon personalities and recognition, there are virtually no substitutes at the time for Venus or Serena, the one-two punch for every tournament in the U.S.

Asked what she loves the most about tennis, Venus had an emotional response. “I love that I love it,” she said. “So when you love something you put the work in.

“I love the challenge. Definitely I like the pressure. I like high stakes. All of that makes it just perfect for my personality.”

And makes Venus perfect for tennis. She’s ageless and remarkable, a legend who refuses to stop acting and playing like one. The game has been fortunate to have her.

S.F. Examiner: Timing is curious, but Kap’s actions nothing new in NorCal

By Art Spander
San Francisco Examiner

NEW YORK — A quarterback is in the hot seat because he refuses to relinquish his own seat when the national anthem is played. The Bay Area reacts — and overreacts. The sky is falling. At the least, jerseys are burning.

But back here, in New York, where the U.S. Open tennis championships have started and the only items involving a signal caller have to do with the Jets’ Geno Smith — “Bird brained QB boo-birds,” was the Daily News headline — they barely notice.

Read the full story here.

©2016 The San Francisco Examiner

Are these the new Swingin’ A’s?

By Art Spander

OAKLAND — Well, all was quiet on the western front. Also in the East Bay clubhouse. No punches. No concussions. No conversation either. All reminders of the Swingin’ A’s of the 1970s are only coincidental.

Those guys could play baseball. They won three consecutive World Series, ’72-73-74. Those guys also could fight. Each other. There’s nothing wrong with teammates smacking each other around, as long as when the umpire yells “Play ball,” the priorities are reassessed.

As the Hall of Famer Rollie Fingers said two years ago when the ’74 champions had a reunion at the Coliseum, “We had some characters and, we were beating the bleep out of each other. But still we won.”

The ’16 A’s have not for the most part, although Oakland looked more than competent Tuesday night at the Coliseum, defeating the AL Central-leading Cleveland Indians, 9-1.

Solid pitching, timely hitting. Which is the way it used to be.

Minus an attempted haymaker or two. Ah, such memories of the glory and gory days.

Game One of the ’74 Series was at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles. Writers from around the country stood around the cage during batting practice, most skeptical of the Athletics’ reputation.

“I don’t believe all those stories of the fighting,” a journalist told the late Ron Bergman, in those days the only correspondent who covered every A’s game. At almost that very moment, Fingers and fellow pitcher John “Blue Moon” Odom began to brawl in the visitors’ clubhouse.

Ray Fosse was a catcher on the ’73 and ’74 A’s. Now at 69, he works with Glenn Kuiper as the Oakland television commentator. Fosse became famous for being run over by Pete Rose in the 1970 All-Star Game — and for breaking up a fight between Billy North and Reggie Jackson in that ’74 A’s title season.

“I just tried to pull Billy away,” said Fosse, who having incurred a crushed disk in his neck that still hurts, is reluctant to say much more about that battle.

Ballplayers are with each other virtually every day from February until October, on buses and planes, in cramped clubhouses. Nerves fray, tempers explode.

Jeff Kent once took a swing at Barry Bonds in the Giants’ dugout at AT&T. That Danny Valencia of the A’s conked teammate Billy Butler wouldn’t have been particularly noteworthy except that Butler was diagnosed with a concussion, a serious condition.

In fact, while one offers condolences to Butler — who must have taken a beating from Valencia — the incident has for a brief moment made the A’s relevant once again. Consigned to the back pages of the Bay Area’s dailies, they suddenly became front-page news.

They would prefer to do it by being successful, but until then any sort of attention will do.

“It’s not the first time guys have gotten in a fight in the clubhouse,” said Oakland general manager David Forst correctly.

“Unfortunately, when we’re having the kind of season we’re having, it’s a big story. If we were winning, it would be colorful, but we’re not.”

Precisely, and even though the A’s fined both Valencia and Butler, Forst and manager Bob Melvin perhaps were not displeased in their athletes showing some fire, if they didn’t appreciate Butler getting concussed.

Oakland team chemistry has been lacking — “not great” is the way Forst described it — which is hardly unexpected the way the A’s repeatedly ship people from Oakland to Triple A Nashville, and vice versa.

The insecurity has to have an effect on young players. How can there be chemistry when there’s no stability?

Through it all, Melvin, the A’s manager, has remained resolute and pleasant. While it’s true any manager is only as good as his players, the entire business, from lack of talent to losing a player because he was socked by a teammate, must be a downer. 

The rare triumph, such as Tuesday night’s — after loses in eight of the previous nine games — allows Melvin a brief chance to escape the craziness of the past few days, not to mention the season.

“Certainly we had this incident, but when you have losing seasons and you’re not playing well, it’s not going to go as well as when you’re winning,” Melvin conceded when asked about the fight.

“And we’ve had two tough seasons. So in that respect, you don’t expect everything to be warm and fuzzy all the time.”

As men such as Rollie Fingers and Billy North from those 1970s teams readily would confirm.

S.F. Examiner: Giants need to prove magic of spring isn’t lost in fog of summer

By Art Spander
San Francisco Examiner

Bruce Bochy was telling the truth. A game in April is no less important — critical, was the word he used — as a game in August. But April is gone. So is the Giants’ lead. They are in second place now, behind the Dodgers, a team hailed and by some — Giants fans — hated.

A team against which San Francisco tonight begins a three-game series at Dodger Stadium.

Read the full story here.

©2016 The San Francisco Examiner