Both times I've walked into the Styslinger Tennis Complex so far, Fritz was on the practice court sweating it out, grooving it out, working hard. No talking, no giggling, no bullshit. His business approach paid off in the late Wednesday night match against Sock. First serves lasering where he willed, clocked 135 MPH on one ace; Sock was overwhelmed, the first set was over in 20 minutes. He recovered a bit to make the 2nd set more of a fight, but Fritz was relentless, his unforced errors were minimal, he won in straight sets to advance to the Quarters.
When Fritz strutted, Sock moped, when Fritz hit sweet spots, Sock hit frame. Precise. A collection of small improvements is how Fritz described it in the post match interview. He seems ready in the mind, he knows how to fix his broken windows, he's likely involved in some sort of effective systemic approach. Too much for Sock.
The early evening match was a giant contest, Isner and Anderson; a giant 3 set, 3 tie breaker, no deuce, no breakpoint, serve contest. Isner is the best server there ever was or is, in all forms of the word is or was. He won. Live by the serve, die by the serve, an awful double fault lost him the 2nd set and sent the inaugural Dallas Open into a New York U.S. Open night vibe by forcing the late match to start after 10 pm. Blondie played in my ear buds, drunken chirps could be heard around the arena, the passive fans cleared out, and then Fritz The Californian slammed the place.