V e r i t a s . S o p h i a . I u s t i t i a

We are nearly two weeks into the American hard court season, the run-up to the year's final Grand Slam tournament now marketed by the USTA as the US Open series, and play began with the men at Los Angeles last week and Indianapolis this week, and the women this week at Stanford, but really, does anyone think the series will accurately indicate who will be the favorites for the US Open? Last year, the winners of the series were Andy Roddick and Ana Ivanovic; the winners of the Open were Roger Federer and Maria Sharapova.

In fact, we'll probably not see Federer, nor his chief, nay, make it his only rival, Rafael Nadal, playing in any of the tournaments in the series other than the mandatory Masters events at Cincinnati and Montreal. These two guys know they are way ahead of the rest of the field, and while Nadal might want to throw in an additional tournament to get some practice on his weakest surface (he's not been past the fourth round at the US Open), Federer must feel he's got the title all locked up, or at the very least- if, if Rafa breaks his American deadlock- that he'll be made to work some in the final.

Rather, the US Open series is really a time for the world's two best players to take an extended break after an exhausting European summer season that sees three Masters events (Monte Carlo, Rome, Hamburg) and two majors (Roland Garros and Wimbledon) played in a short span of some three months, with Federer and Nadal meeting in the finals of all but one of those tournaments (Rome). Rafa, as we know, took the trophy home at Monte Carlo, Rome and the French Open. Federer meanwhile won Hamburg and his record-tying fifth straight Wimbledon title in arguably the best men's singles final of the tournament since Borg-McEnroe in 1980, and met defeat in the finals of Monte Carlo and the French. So, yes, as of the end of July, the Big Two of men's tennis aren't exactly short of match practice.

So the US Open series is really a time for the American men to salvage an otherwise dire season. Not only did not one American man make it past the first round at Roland Garros (the only time this has happened since Americans played in major tournaments), but on a surface they were expected to thrive on, no American man passed the fourth round at Wimbledon. Andy Roddick, thought by many to be second best on grass after the mighty Federer, suffered one of his worst defeats ever, falling to Richard Gasquet in the fourth round after leading by two sets and a break. As of this year, Nadal is the best player on clay and second best on all other surfaces, period. Sorry, Andy.

Still, with two tournaments played in the series, Roddick and Blake don't look as though they are about to turn their lacklustre seasons around. The defending champion at Los Angeles and Indianapolis, Blake found himself ousted in the final of the former by a man better known for being Martina Hingis' fiance than for his tennis, and then got bundled out of the latter in the early rounds by an unheralded countryman who fired 10 consecutive aces past him at one point. Roddick in the meantime made nary a whimper in L.A. before crumbling in the semis at Indianapolis to Canadian Frank Dancevic, who at 102 in the world, was the last man automatically accepted into the main draw. So much for saving American men's tennis from yet another tinpot year...

American women's tennis is looking only slightly better, with the Williams sisters, on the back end of their careers having no one pass the baton to... Sure, the sisters won the Australian Open and Wimbledon this year, but they were hardly favorites for those titles. Serena made a mockery of the rankings when she bludgeoned then world number one Maria Sharapova 6-1 6-2 in the Aussie Open final ranked 89th in the world, while Venus showed that her pedigree on grass was second to none at Wimbledon, even if her ranking is outside the top twenty. Still, the sisters of no mercy came onto the tennis radar in the late 90s. There haven't been any impressive women players coming out of the states since then. No disrespect to Lindsay Davenport but isn't it a tad depressing that the comeback of a 31-year old mum, albeit a three-time major champion, is being regarded as a much needed boost to the state of American women's tennis?

I doubt the Williams sisters will play many events in the US Open series. Like Federer and Nadal, they know they don't need much match practice to make serious runs at the majors. Still, no one will be counting them out at the US Open. Serena showed true grit in Australia and in her tough fourth round win over Daniela Hantuchova at Wimbledon when she was limping with cramps; Venus survived two early round scares at Wimby before steamrolling three top ten players to reach the final. In fact, Americans will be counting on the Williams sisters more than ever this year to save face at their home major. There's no one behind them for back-up. No Jennifer Capriati, no Monica Seles, maybe, just maybe, Lindsay Davenport.

Justine Henin, another hot favorite for the title, will likely play even less than the Williamses before the US Open. God knows she'll want a holiday from tennis to detox after her shock defeat at the Wimbledon semifinal, probably the most unexpected loss in a Wimbledon semifinal since Zina Garrison beat Steffi Graf in 1990. So who'll be playing in the events prior to the US Open? Jelena Jankovic, for one. The Serb has hardly taken a week off this year, and has risen to number three in the world, so why stop now? Fellow Serb Ana Ivanovic is having a breakout year and she'll be one to watch out for. Maria Sharapova will want to get some confidence-boosting wins before going into the Open to defend her title. After the euphoria of proving she's no one-slam wonder at last year's Open, she's gone deep into tournaments this year only to be either humiliated (see the Aussie Open, Miami and Wimbledon) or denied within touching distance of a title (see Birmingham).

The US Open series, in short, is here for the year's underachievers to pull their socks up, get some form before the US Open begins in late August and then once there, go as deep into the draw as they can before their names come up beside Federer, Nadal, Henin, or Williams. So really, whoever emerges as champions of the US Open series this year, don't bet on them actually winning the US Open.

A weekend, at long last, to myself, completely, with no work to do. Not planned for though, of course, and not entirely true, but I realize now, what a simpleton I am, that work, as any fool can tell you, is neverending, and time for oneself will never be handed to you by another. At least for now, that's what I think my fool will guarantee. So my intention was to go to the office this weekend, get some of the more tedious paperwork done before the start of the new week, which had sworn from the start of term to be hell and now promises to be a chess match with satan himself, swimming in the black and white of the seventh seal, and anyhow perhaps I was thinking, to keep the momentum from this endless working for weeks going, going, muscles aching for relief, the way an athlete might play through pain ten all in the fifth set and fifth hour of a match with no end in sight save he stave off defeat before they call bad light, if he doesn't sit down at the change of ends and allow his muscles to untighten themselves. And it seems, the call came without my knowing, which is how the call usually comes, the umpire receives a page from the referee and play is suspended and the players never know until they are told. So I was told on the bus home on Friday. Empty-handed, why bother lugging home work when you're coming in tomorrow, I text my colleague to ask what time he'll be in school tomorrow, and will you believe it, the workaholic isn't coming in... First instinct was to get off the bus, cross the road and go back for my files and my tablet. I didn't follow it, for some reason. No, I was just too tired to. Naturally, panic sets in when you don't follow your first instinct, but by the end of the evening, I'd realized euphorically, that I was locked out of my office with all the work I need to get done this weekend out of my reach. I don't even have a thumbdrive on me... Sheer bliss. A whole saturday, helpless- and slyly absolved- as only a man locked away from work can be, a whole day, spent reading, watching TV, doing a little shopping, feeling the knots in the shoulders undoing themselves every time I look at my desk, no files, no books, no work to be done really through no fault of mine. I mean, really, I'd meant to work this weekend. I guess play just got suspended before the cramps got the better of me, and I'll live to fight another day.

Nothing noteworthy to write about, actually. I am great at drawing readers in, aren't I? Life really is pretty uneventful at the moment. Obviously I am busier now that I am actually gainfully employed. Didn't write much about Wimbledon, which kinda surprised friends who know me for a tennis nut. To be honest, Wimbledon is really one of my least favorite tournaments. Probably has to do with my years in London, when the BBC would rather televise a match featuring a British nobody ranked 210th in the world getting his arse handed to him by the world number 40 or ANY Tim Henman match even if there were far more mouthwatering match-ups taking place simultaneously. I've always been more a fan of clay court tennis, so Roland Garros is what I live for as a fan. And after yesterday's Wimbledon final, I reckon Rafa's closer to winning Wimbledon than Roger is to winning the French Open. Also learned another thing- never write off the Williams sisters. Anyhow, all is good, I suppose. Still not quite getting the hang of waking up at half five every weekday morning and working till six in the evening, but I do enjoy teaching. Also got a new reading system up where I read a book 300-400 pages long during the week (McEwan's Saturday this week) and then something less than 200 pages on the weekends. Routine I know, but beats NOT reading at all, which was my life during practicum. Satoshi's turning two tomorrow. I love him so much. They grow up all too quickly. He can say "sorry" now, which means he knows when he's done something bad, which means he's no longer always, always, despite tears when he's hungry or when he's bumped his head into something, no longer always happy.