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by Pete Bodo
Good mornin', folks. I have a new post up at ESPN basically celebrating Rafa Nadal and Justine Henin. Between the two of them, they own eight Roland Garros singles titles, and the events of the last week suggest that as the countdown to Paris continues they've established themselves - once again - as the favorites to win.
But beyond that, and irrespective of rivalries bitter and otherwise, we ought to pause to consider what this extraordinary pair has done for tennis, and particularly clay-court tennis. It wasn't so long ago that too many women's matches in any given year in Paris were dog poop. Whoever happened to be the reigning baseline queen just went out and bludgeoned any challenger into submission. And those challengers often emerged from a pack of like-minded stylists, batting balls from baseline to baseline until one or the other keeled over. Justine did something for the clay game that nobody, not even the attacker, Martina Navratilova, could do - she showed us how artfully the game can be played on clay - even by women.
Beneath Henin's nimble feet, common clay became a soft, golden platform covered with a liberal sprinkling of fairy dust. Watching her move and work her game on clay is like watching the sprites and faeries in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Henin makes the distinctions between baseliner, all-courter, aggressive baseliner, attacker and counterpuncher, vanish. She basically does what the flow of play, and the surface underfoot dictates. No woman player (and only Roger Federer among the men) has a game that's so well integrated, and in which all the parts work together to do what comes, or ought to come, most naturally.
And that's possible only because Henin has a basic mastery of the entire repertoire. When Mr. Clay orders up a drop shot, Henin delivers it; if he calls for a forehand approach-volley combination, she she answers, Yes, sir, would you like a little mustard on that approach? It's easy to overlook the unique nature of this high degree of integration and the marvelous balance in Henin's game, even though they don't really guarantee anything. Henin can and has been beaten by women with less multi-dimensional games, but that's partly because tennis isn't a performance, it's an athletic contest and battle of the nerves and will.
!53023896 Rafa Nadal, fittingly enough, works the opposite end of the spectrum. If the aesthetics of Henin's game are supremely pleasing, Nadal's job seems to be to constantly remind us that clay is basically dirt, and dirt is one of the basic ingredients from which we shape, mold and create. And we only shape the clay with the sweat of our brow and the strain of our muscles. The man rolls up his sleeves (although for a while he didn't even have to do that) when Mr. Clay invites him to go to work. He isn't there to enchant and enthrall; he's there to move the furniture. I'm surprised he doesn't show up on court with one of those power-lifter belts favored by the Golds Gym crowd.
Over the years, Rafa has come to represent the physicality of the game, which presents a nice contrast to Henin (or even Federer on clay), and it reminds us that clay isn't just a field on which a player can show off his or her skills and subtle gifts. It's an arena for fighting a battle, not just putting on a demonstration. Nadal's blows are punishing; even as a spectator, you can feel them, viscerally. That in and of itself is unusual, not just because of the power and force it bespeaks, but because on another level it's an act of communication. Everything about Nadal works in a way that heightens and enhances our sense of tennis as a physical activity based on a primal expression of power, or force.
So when you add it all up, these two players, one man, one woman, cover just about all the bases in the game, and address just about every desire or need we bring to it. Sure, they're lucky to have Roland Garros and its clay surface, on which they can so comprehensively display their skills. But Roland Garros is very lucky to have them, too.