i just got to post this great piece from pete bodo. as i'm a rabid tennis fan, i've read quite a number of essays about the great rivalry between roger and rafa and most of these have just all boiled down to one thing - roger's greatness and rafa's determined retrieving. most of tennis critics have little appreciation of rafa's skills, likening him with tennis players such as michael chang, lleyton hewitt or arantxa sanchez-vicario - all great retrievers but no real weapon. this article provides a new punto de vista on rafa's skills and athleticism, heart and humility. Mentor Mine
By Pete Bodo
Howdy, everyone. I'm a little late on this, but as I posted at the previous thread, Typepad ate my entire Rafael Nadal post earlier today. I can't tell you how far your heart sinks the moment you realize the work is gone for good and can't be retrieved. So here we go again.
I confess that I was a little disappointed when Nadal showed up in Melbourne in. . .sleeves. It signaled the end of an era - that period when you could watch Nadal and feel safe judging him a Rousseauvian character, the wild boy from Manacor, slashing and blasting his way through a draw as if it was less a game of tennis than a demolition derby (and didn't sleeveless Rafa remind you just a wee bit of a derby car, perhaps 1988 Plymouth Fury with the doors removed?).
Well, those days are gone; if Jet Boy will never again look quite so much like a cross between a cartoon Superhero and Rambo, he'll also never again be accused of being a one-dimensional tennis pro. He's now the defending champ on all three Grand Slam surfaces (hard courts, grass, clay).
Watching the final, I sensed from the start that it was going the be a battle of wills, more than skills. And that's not a diplomatic way of saying that Nadal's will would trump Federer's skill, although it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, and not just in this rivalry. These men are evenly matched in the skills department, if you concede that that placing a feathery drop volley is no more, or less, a skill than bending a running passing shot around the netpost and landing it in the square foot at either corner of the opposite court. Or that hitting a specific serve on demand, when it's most needed, is the equal of executing a turn-around jump volley.
The skills of Nadal and Federer are different in kind, but not in quality, and certainly not in utility. Each of us may prefer certain skills to others, but personal taste plays a much larger role in our minds than on the field of play.
In fact, the skills of the two men are so well-dovetailed that they more or less fought to a standstill in that department. Might Federer have served better? Of course. But what if Nadal would have returned better? There's no point in dealing with flying pigs, so it seems to me that with the skills deadlocked, the match was decided by will. But let's be careful about this, because saying Nadal "wanted" it more doesn't do the man justice - didn't most of us tell our children, today or yesterday, that there is no causal relationship between "wanting" and "getting? You might say that Rafa showed more "heart," but that seems unnecessarily cruel. Let's just say that when they tabulated the sum of want and heart in each man, Nadal's total added up to a higher number.
What struck me most about Nadal, beyond the comments I made in my last post, was his imperturbability. He's extraordinarily well designed to withstand the pressures and temptations of competition, right down to, or perhaps because of, the way he goes about his business. He doesn't seem to care what his opponent is doing or thinking, or what the moment means (he's got plenty of time to experience the exquisite torture of that apprehension, and when he does the first person he calls for advice will probably be Federer). The best example of Nadal's ability to be totally absorbed in the task of the moment (and what a blessing that is) is in the way he lines up his serve, as painstakingly and openly as he aligns his water bottles. Does he worry about telegraphing his intentions to one of the best returners in the game? Nah. Does he feel obliged to mix it up, lest this 13-time Grand Slam winner tee off on the return and drill him through the forehead? Nah.
This points somewhere interesting, for once you get past the matters of style, Nadal turns out to be more like Pete Sampras than Federer has ever been. Like Sampras, Nadal isn't going to out-think his opponent (or himself). He's not going to try to blind-side him, or overwhelm him with inventive, creative shotmaking. He's going straight at him, with the most powerful weapon he has, and let the chips fall where they may. And that automatically gives him additional heft. Sampras's early coach Tim Gullikson used to try to pump Sampras up by comparing him to a certain power-based play made famous by the NFL's iconic team, the Green Bay Packers: You're like the Packers power sweep," Tim would say, his eyes gleaming. "They know it's coming, but there's nothing they can do to stop it.
That's Rafa's way as well; he'd look good in green-and-gold.
These virtues are relatively easy to discuss, compared to the quality that may be most responsible for Nadal having won the match, his stamina. Let's be clear about this: Tennis Australia owes him, big-time, for not running out of gas midway through the match. The decision to play the semi-finalists on different days is unfathomable. Who would have thought that when it comes to boneheaded scheduling, anyone could surpass the US Open's insistence on holding the men's semifinals and final on back-to-back days?
For a period in the second set, it looked as if Nadal was going to pay a heavy penalty for his lengthy semifinal with Fernando Verdasco. But that swoon, uncharacteristic and inconvenient as it was (Nadal at that point looked like he might actually humiliate Federer) didn't last, and it's hard to say what caused it. The recovery was a tribute not just to Nadal's physical powers, but his nerves. By the end, well-rested Federer looked more the exhausted man. Have we ever seen a more vivid demonstration of the role nerves play in a match, or the often derided notion that you're only as tired as you allow yourself to be?
Pondering Nadal's stamina, I was reminded of that famous quote Adriano Panatta delivered after he lost a terrific five-setter to Jimmy Connors at the US Open some years ago: Jimmy. . . he doesn't want to die. I always found that quote irritating, probably because it's a truism. But it comes about as close as you can get to identifying the kind of drive and determination that has to be considered a special gift, and there's a certain amount of appeal in the idea that we play sports partly because doing so allows us to absolutely revel in our own driving life force. Anyone who's ever experienced the ecstasy of physical exhaustion will probably know what I mean. It's at the boundaries of our physical capabilities where we're most in touch with the miracle of our own corporeal existence.
Nadal has always seemed sufficiently earthy not only to enjoy this condition, but to accept what discomfort comes along with it. The overt physicality of his game is not just a matter of style, it's also a dimension of personality. Don't you get the sense that if you could attach a happiness meter to his nervous system, it would register the highest score when he's chasing like mad after a seemingly irretrievable ball? In this, Nadal has been uncorrupted by prudence or fancy notions of "energy management", which can lead down the road to self-created limitations.
Nadal seems to have steered clear of such pitfalls thanks in part to his coach and uncle, Toni. One of the more interesting things Toni told me at the last US Open was that while developing Rafa, he would sometimes make him practice with old balls, or take him to a broken-down old court, just to impress on him that playing only under ideal conditions is inadequate training for adversity. The lesson took: nobody in today's game handles adversity better than Nadal.
This ability to absorb lessons is one of Rafa's trademark characteristics, and while it's counter-intuitive to think of a great champion as a great student, this seems to be the case. Nadal is a model student; he respects his teachers, and no matter what he achieves, it never seems to occur to him that he's outgrown them, or has come to know more. He may have greater talent, and he may achieve more success, but it doesn't change the established order.
This has less impact in his role as a pupil of Toni's than it does in his relationship to his other great mentor. . . Roger Federer. Think about it: Who set the bar for Rafa? Who painted the baseline of greatness for him? Who handled himself with the kind of statesmanlike dignity that a good, obedient, eager and intelligent young learner might want to emulate? Isn't it odd, at some level, that this rivalry has been utterly free of acrimony, given the way that Jimmy Connors trash-talked Bjorn Borg, and John McEnroe and Ivan Lendl took every opportunity to express their mutual antipathy?
Rafa may have eclipsed his mentor, but I believe that while he's well aware of the situation and proud of what he's accomplished, he's not inclined to think of it in those terms. There's a lot more than good manners, tact and a kindly disposition at work in this; there's also a certain purity of spirit. Nobody appreciates TMF more than Rafa does, because nobody has done more for him than Federer. I can imagine Rafa experiencing many emotions on the heels of this win, but gloating isn't one of them. I thought that the consolation he offered Federer after the podium breakdown was telling; Nadal didn't need to think for a moment of what to do, or how to handle the situation. He threw his arm around Federer and produced one of the most genuine smiles I've ever seen cross his elastic, expressive features. The gesture seemed to come from the heart, and testify to how large it is.
Hail, it even made Roger look sheepish, which was quite a feat, given the emotional tone of the moment.
To some, this win at a hard court major was overdue. It was an understandable concern, because players tend to establish histories at certain events and on specific surfaces, much like they do against their rivals. And once a pattern is established, it becomes hard to break - and harder with each missed opportunity. I don't think hard courts posed special problems for Nadal; I believe the backstory to his results on the surface was more a matter of priorities.
This was, to some degree, a culturally-driven decision. The tale of clay-court wizards having to "prove" themselves outside their red dirt playgrounds is as old as the hills, and the rocky history of so many great Spanish players at Wimbledon puts a special premium on winning there (Who can forget the huge fuss a group of Spanish players led by Alex Corretja made a few years back at Wimbledon, because of the demotion of some clay-court experts in the seedings?). Wimbledon was the highest priority for Nadal, and after he checked it off his to-do list, he was liberated to focus on further ambitions.
As it turns out, though, there's far more at stake for Nadal now at the US Open. He's shown that he can win on hard courts, but the American major represents an opportunity for Nadal to join the select group of just five men who have completed the "Career Grand Slam", winning at least once at each major venue. The last person to do it was Andre Agassi, in 1999. Before that, it was Roy Emerson, in 1964. And let's not forget that Nadal will be the overwhelming favorite to win the French Open, which means that he's got a realistic shot at completing the first Grand Slam since Rod Laver's second one, in 1969.
It's a small price to pay for adding a couple of sleeves, no?
By Pete Bodo
Howdy, everyone. I'm a little late on this, but as I posted at the previous thread, Typepad ate my entire Rafael Nadal post earlier today. I can't tell you how far your heart sinks the moment you realize the work is gone for good and can't be retrieved. So here we go again.
I confess that I was a little disappointed when Nadal showed up in Melbourne in. . .sleeves. It signaled the end of an era - that period when you could watch Nadal and feel safe judging him a Rousseauvian character, the wild boy from Manacor, slashing and blasting his way through a draw as if it was less a game of tennis than a demolition derby (and didn't sleeveless Rafa remind you just a wee bit of a derby car, perhaps 1988 Plymouth Fury with the doors removed?).
Well, those days are gone; if Jet Boy will never again look quite so much like a cross between a cartoon Superhero and Rambo, he'll also never again be accused of being a one-dimensional tennis pro. He's now the defending champ on all three Grand Slam surfaces (hard courts, grass, clay).
Watching the final, I sensed from the start that it was going the be a battle of wills, more than skills. And that's not a diplomatic way of saying that Nadal's will would trump Federer's skill, although it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, and not just in this rivalry. These men are evenly matched in the skills department, if you concede that that placing a feathery drop volley is no more, or less, a skill than bending a running passing shot around the netpost and landing it in the square foot at either corner of the opposite court. Or that hitting a specific serve on demand, when it's most needed, is the equal of executing a turn-around jump volley.
The skills of Nadal and Federer are different in kind, but not in quality, and certainly not in utility. Each of us may prefer certain skills to others, but personal taste plays a much larger role in our minds than on the field of play.
In fact, the skills of the two men are so well-dovetailed that they more or less fought to a standstill in that department. Might Federer have served better? Of course. But what if Nadal would have returned better? There's no point in dealing with flying pigs, so it seems to me that with the skills deadlocked, the match was decided by will. But let's be careful about this, because saying Nadal "wanted" it more doesn't do the man justice - didn't most of us tell our children, today or yesterday, that there is no causal relationship between "wanting" and "getting? You might say that Rafa showed more "heart," but that seems unnecessarily cruel. Let's just say that when they tabulated the sum of want and heart in each man, Nadal's total added up to a higher number.
What struck me most about Nadal, beyond the comments I made in my last post, was his imperturbability. He's extraordinarily well designed to withstand the pressures and temptations of competition, right down to, or perhaps because of, the way he goes about his business. He doesn't seem to care what his opponent is doing or thinking, or what the moment means (he's got plenty of time to experience the exquisite torture of that apprehension, and when he does the first person he calls for advice will probably be Federer). The best example of Nadal's ability to be totally absorbed in the task of the moment (and what a blessing that is) is in the way he lines up his serve, as painstakingly and openly as he aligns his water bottles. Does he worry about telegraphing his intentions to one of the best returners in the game? Nah. Does he feel obliged to mix it up, lest this 13-time Grand Slam winner tee off on the return and drill him through the forehead? Nah.
This points somewhere interesting, for once you get past the matters of style, Nadal turns out to be more like Pete Sampras than Federer has ever been. Like Sampras, Nadal isn't going to out-think his opponent (or himself). He's not going to try to blind-side him, or overwhelm him with inventive, creative shotmaking. He's going straight at him, with the most powerful weapon he has, and let the chips fall where they may. And that automatically gives him additional heft. Sampras's early coach Tim Gullikson used to try to pump Sampras up by comparing him to a certain power-based play made famous by the NFL's iconic team, the Green Bay Packers: You're like the Packers power sweep," Tim would say, his eyes gleaming. "They know it's coming, but there's nothing they can do to stop it.
That's Rafa's way as well; he'd look good in green-and-gold.
These virtues are relatively easy to discuss, compared to the quality that may be most responsible for Nadal having won the match, his stamina. Let's be clear about this: Tennis Australia owes him, big-time, for not running out of gas midway through the match. The decision to play the semi-finalists on different days is unfathomable. Who would have thought that when it comes to boneheaded scheduling, anyone could surpass the US Open's insistence on holding the men's semifinals and final on back-to-back days?
For a period in the second set, it looked as if Nadal was going to pay a heavy penalty for his lengthy semifinal with Fernando Verdasco. But that swoon, uncharacteristic and inconvenient as it was (Nadal at that point looked like he might actually humiliate Federer) didn't last, and it's hard to say what caused it. The recovery was a tribute not just to Nadal's physical powers, but his nerves. By the end, well-rested Federer looked more the exhausted man. Have we ever seen a more vivid demonstration of the role nerves play in a match, or the often derided notion that you're only as tired as you allow yourself to be?
Pondering Nadal's stamina, I was reminded of that famous quote Adriano Panatta delivered after he lost a terrific five-setter to Jimmy Connors at the US Open some years ago: Jimmy. . . he doesn't want to die. I always found that quote irritating, probably because it's a truism. But it comes about as close as you can get to identifying the kind of drive and determination that has to be considered a special gift, and there's a certain amount of appeal in the idea that we play sports partly because doing so allows us to absolutely revel in our own driving life force. Anyone who's ever experienced the ecstasy of physical exhaustion will probably know what I mean. It's at the boundaries of our physical capabilities where we're most in touch with the miracle of our own corporeal existence.
Nadal has always seemed sufficiently earthy not only to enjoy this condition, but to accept what discomfort comes along with it. The overt physicality of his game is not just a matter of style, it's also a dimension of personality. Don't you get the sense that if you could attach a happiness meter to his nervous system, it would register the highest score when he's chasing like mad after a seemingly irretrievable ball? In this, Nadal has been uncorrupted by prudence or fancy notions of "energy management", which can lead down the road to self-created limitations.
Nadal seems to have steered clear of such pitfalls thanks in part to his coach and uncle, Toni. One of the more interesting things Toni told me at the last US Open was that while developing Rafa, he would sometimes make him practice with old balls, or take him to a broken-down old court, just to impress on him that playing only under ideal conditions is inadequate training for adversity. The lesson took: nobody in today's game handles adversity better than Nadal.
This ability to absorb lessons is one of Rafa's trademark characteristics, and while it's counter-intuitive to think of a great champion as a great student, this seems to be the case. Nadal is a model student; he respects his teachers, and no matter what he achieves, it never seems to occur to him that he's outgrown them, or has come to know more. He may have greater talent, and he may achieve more success, but it doesn't change the established order.
This has less impact in his role as a pupil of Toni's than it does in his relationship to his other great mentor. . . Roger Federer. Think about it: Who set the bar for Rafa? Who painted the baseline of greatness for him? Who handled himself with the kind of statesmanlike dignity that a good, obedient, eager and intelligent young learner might want to emulate? Isn't it odd, at some level, that this rivalry has been utterly free of acrimony, given the way that Jimmy Connors trash-talked Bjorn Borg, and John McEnroe and Ivan Lendl took every opportunity to express their mutual antipathy?
Rafa may have eclipsed his mentor, but I believe that while he's well aware of the situation and proud of what he's accomplished, he's not inclined to think of it in those terms. There's a lot more than good manners, tact and a kindly disposition at work in this; there's also a certain purity of spirit. Nobody appreciates TMF more than Rafa does, because nobody has done more for him than Federer. I can imagine Rafa experiencing many emotions on the heels of this win, but gloating isn't one of them. I thought that the consolation he offered Federer after the podium breakdown was telling; Nadal didn't need to think for a moment of what to do, or how to handle the situation. He threw his arm around Federer and produced one of the most genuine smiles I've ever seen cross his elastic, expressive features. The gesture seemed to come from the heart, and testify to how large it is.
Hail, it even made Roger look sheepish, which was quite a feat, given the emotional tone of the moment.
To some, this win at a hard court major was overdue. It was an understandable concern, because players tend to establish histories at certain events and on specific surfaces, much like they do against their rivals. And once a pattern is established, it becomes hard to break - and harder with each missed opportunity. I don't think hard courts posed special problems for Nadal; I believe the backstory to his results on the surface was more a matter of priorities.
This was, to some degree, a culturally-driven decision. The tale of clay-court wizards having to "prove" themselves outside their red dirt playgrounds is as old as the hills, and the rocky history of so many great Spanish players at Wimbledon puts a special premium on winning there (Who can forget the huge fuss a group of Spanish players led by Alex Corretja made a few years back at Wimbledon, because of the demotion of some clay-court experts in the seedings?). Wimbledon was the highest priority for Nadal, and after he checked it off his to-do list, he was liberated to focus on further ambitions.
As it turns out, though, there's far more at stake for Nadal now at the US Open. He's shown that he can win on hard courts, but the American major represents an opportunity for Nadal to join the select group of just five men who have completed the "Career Grand Slam", winning at least once at each major venue. The last person to do it was Andre Agassi, in 1999. Before that, it was Roy Emerson, in 1964. And let's not forget that Nadal will be the overwhelming favorite to win the French Open, which means that he's got a realistic shot at completing the first Grand Slam since Rod Laver's second one, in 1969.
It's a small price to pay for adding a couple of sleeves, no?
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