For a while there, it looked as if people who wanted to watch a little tennis in Atlanta were going to get just that, with the emphasis on "little." John Isner jumped on Mardy Fish's second service game of the Atlanta final and, in his signature manner, went into sleep mode and soon wrapped up the set, 6-3.

On a surface as fast as this hard court, an early break often means that what effort Isner makes to add the proverbial "insurance break" is purely cursory; an opponent more or less has to faint dead away for Isner to perk up and try—really try. For with his serve, the 6'9" Isner knows—as does anyone he plays—that it's just a matter of time until he records that third, set-clinching hold. Nobody in his right mind blames Isner for that. As Darren Cahill reminded the ESPN2 viewing audience, "Nobody plays to the score better than John Isner."

To further advance the developing, simple narrative, Isner broke Fish in the opening game of the second set, by which time the ESPN commentators, at a loss for more substantial plot elements, had spent a surprising amount of time discussing the string tension in Fish's racquets—the theory being that he was getting blown out (and by this time the handwriting on the wall was clear) because he was caught unprepared in the scorching heat of the afternoon, after having played all of his previous matches at night (when the ball flies slower).

But in the very next game, Isner did something uncharacteristic and, given his playing profile, borderline suicidal. He gave the break right back. In the very next game, he began to touch his tummy as if he were injured. And he clearly looked spent and on the verge of running out of gas after his eventful week in steamy Atlanta. He merely waved at Fish's serve in most games; it was obvious that his strategy was to get to the tiebreaker, where his serve and one lucky swing of the stick could win him the match—and vengeance for his loss to Fish at the same stage in the same event last year.

It all went on script, too. And when Isner, refreshed by reaching what is usually his safe haven, jumped to a 5-1 lead in the tiebreaker, it seemed to be a done deal. But something extraordinary happened. Fish recovered one mini-break and played two great points on serve to crawl back to 5-4. Isner then reached match point when he crushed an inside-out forehand winner off Fish's ensuing service return. It was a brilliant shot under enormous pressure: the point of the match as well as the near match-winning point.

But at 6-4, Isner made a backhand error after a brief rally, and at 6-5 Fish blasted a service winner to Isner's forehand. They were dead even now, 6-6. Fish wrapped up the set on Isner's next serve, thanks to an inside-out forehand error off Fish's return. It was clear by then that Fish was reading Isner's serve far better than he had going into the tiebreaker, and that spelled trouble.

The ambient conditions and Isner's fatigue seemed to play the greatest roles the rest of the way. He immediately fell behind 15-40 in the first game of the third set, and was broken when he tried a drop shot at 30-40: a classic white-flag offering. It was slipping away, but Isner rallied to make one more push, when Fish fell into a 15-40 hole in the sixth game (while serving at 3-2). Give Fish credit, he kept his cool. A forehand error by Isner and an ace set Fish right again, and after a hold, Fish broke Isner for 5-2 and then served it out.

—Pete Bodo