If the power game once passed Martina Hingis by, it has come back to need her. The slugging drab top five — Jennifer Capriati, the Williams sisters, Lindsay Davenport and Amelie Mauresmo — could have used a Hingis refresher course in competitive gumption during what has become the collapsed souffle of French Opens. The shackles on quality and spirit showed up on Thursday when Capriati slipped into a flop sweat when the wispy Anastasiya Myskina served soap bubbles to her during a semifinal match. Would Hingis have lapped up Capriati’s absentee nerve? Would she have preyed on the failed preparation of Serena, the bankrupt confidence of Venus, the emotional tailspin of Mauresmo or the sluggishness of Davenport on clay? ‘‘I’ve always been a nice girl’’, Hingis said with a sly smile after leaving her perch as a Eurosport TV contributor. ‘‘I don’t want to make any enemies.’’ But when pressed for answers to explain the kind of excruciating tennis that saw two of the most delicate minds in the game — Myskina and Elena Dementieva — in the final, Hingis could still craft her points. She sees big hitters on tour, but a cycle of injuries hurting their fitness and a lack of fitness causing their injuries — a sight particularly noticeable during the Williams sisters’ recent series of strains and pulls. ‘‘They’re playing without preparation’’, Hingis said. ‘‘Well, why? Well, it’s, ‘I got injured.’ Well, why did you get injured? It’s from not playing enough.’’ Hingis once showed up at every event, staying sharp with match play. Was it wise? Some would argue Hingis’ body expired under such duress. But now heavy-hitting players vanish for weeks, rest injuries for months and still come up lame upon return. This inconsistency of play — and vacuum of confidence — revealed itself in an unsightly French Open. It was attrition of the least insecure. The art of cool was lost, with players trying to hit through their nerves and revealing no backup plan when might betrayed them. Two years removed from the game after career-halting surgeries, in the midst of a continuing lawsuit with a shoemaker she blames for her foot pain, Hingis still has the skills of a bomb technician. She knows how power works — and fails. ‘‘It’s a different generation out there’’, Hingis said, as if she arrived in a horse and buggy at age 23. ‘‘It’s gotten so physical. No one uses their hands anymore. It’s about overpowering the other. You have to block the first few shots away, and start playing the way you want. But patience is gone. Now nothing comes from the basics of knowing how to play the game. You have to put the point in play, and set up the point. A lot of girls today, they don’t aim anymore. They don’t have a target.’’ Hingis once gave the grand guard someone to shoot for on the court — and off of it. What about a Hingis revival? ‘‘I need a medical miracle’’, she said. What if a cure came along? How about then? ‘‘Being 23, who wouldn’t think that way’’, Hingis said. ‘‘I love the game.’’ The passion for the game drove her, and pushed her opponents. She would call her Florida neighbour Monica Seles to come over for a Christmas Day hit. She would often call Serena for practice sessions that would turn into instructive grudge matches. “I didn’t want to miss, and she didn’t want to miss; we kept it in play, and also we helped each other’’, Hingis said. ‘‘Today, it’s like everyone is so selfish.’’ Today, everyone could use a refresher in Hingis 101. (The New York Times)
