Gunfight at the UK Corral

It was a bitter moment for Robin Soderling. He had trod the sod at Wimbledon over six wild and woolly days, like the newly appointed Marshall in a frontier town. It was time, he appeared to think, to teach a lesson to that wild young cowhand, Nadal, who was runnin' wild on the range. He had shot out the lights in the dusty red streets of Paris (not the one in Texas, either), and rolled into London, nothin' but trouble.

Soderling carried a big iron, and he was going to use it - fire aces and whistling forehands left and right to send that renegade cowhand  huntin' his hole. Roger Federer wasn't the only lawman up to that job. He was going to show the frontier how to handle that buck cowboy.

When the moment of reckoning between Soderling and Rafael Nadal arrived, shortly after high noon at the UK corral, it was obvious that the blood coursing through both of their veins was of the bad variety. In the warm-up, both men hit winners left and right, barely acknowledging each other. Once the match got underway, with the score knotted at 4-all in the fifth, it was clear that neither man was going to stand down. The cowhand held the first game with ease, the Marshall did the same. Nadal held his next game, for 6-5, and then. . . Soderling flinched. He fell behind 15-40, but gamely fought off three match points.

At deuce, Soderling hit a fine approach and made his move - thundering in close to the net to finish off the threat. But the cowhand Nadal had one more surprise in store - driven into his forehand corner, he cracked a running forehand cross-court that sounded like it exploded from the barrel of a Colt .45. It was as good as a gut shot. Although Soderling had a two rounds left, the cowhand Nadal converted his fifth match point to end it. So much for law on the frontier.

Gut shot. It's a horrible way to die. But that wasn't the end of it. Soderling had to face a press corps that not only witnessed his belligerence (he barely shook hands with Nadal and didn't even bother to look him in the eye  - not that it's easy to cast loving glances at the guy who just gut shot you. . .), but which had already primed the pump by asking Nadal about the air of animosity lingering like a bad odor over the match.

A British reporter whom I don't know had asked Nadal what he thought about the way Soderling had "conducted" himself, and Nadal needed no further prodding. He fairly leaped on the question: "Really, the true (truth), maybe worst possible because I was. . ." At this point, he became so flustered that he asked for Nicola Arzani, the ATP communications rep, or his own publicist, Benito Perez-Barbadillo, in the hope of finding a translator. Instead, my pal Alex Delmas of Madrid's Diaro As stepped in to help. He translated for us: "I felt like close to the net, and he never even go to the net to say sorry or helping or something. . . And after that, when he's touching the net (a let) and the ball go to other place, no one time he say to me, 'Sorry.' When I finish the match, the hand just like this (at this point, Nadal mimicked a limp handshake, looking away). Just a little bit. After four days, that's not normal, no?"

I don't know about you, but I can't put much stock in a guy who, having been whipped fair and square, can't muster the courage to go up to the net, look his opponent in the eye, and shake his hand.

In the Spanish portion of the interview, Alex told me later, Nadal said that he had greeted Soderling numerous times, and never got so much as a "Hi" in return. He added that he had spoken with other players about the tall, raw-boned Swede (think Andy Roddick, marinated in jar of herring), and they generally had a low opinion of him. Of course, this was bound to be thrown up to Soderling; really, what else was there to talk about after the final, 15-minute shootout? I led it off by asking what was the source of Solderling's bad blood with Nadal?

At first, Soderling appeared not to understand the question. He made some anodyne comments about the break point that got away from him at 5-5 (he made a backhand error to waste his only opportunity of the day). But he wasn't going to get let off this hook, bleeding from the gut or not. He passed on a similar question and then I returned to the subject, asking if he had misunderstood my question (it was in a friendlier way than it may seem in the transcript).

Again, he dodged. But he couldn't duck this issue any more than he could that cracking Nadal forehand pass. Willy Weinbaum, an ESPN hand, led the charge; Willy doesn't lob the softballs out there. He's concise, clear and professional. Soderling tried to take the high road, telling the press that he would never express feelings such as Nadal had to the press, which I thought  was a fairly odd thing to say to the present company.

I'm fully aware of the agita the press pariahs can create and often even appear to create, and while I won't speak for anyone else, I appreciate it when a player addresses an obvious issue with honesty and truthfulness. After all, it wasn't like Nadal walked into the presser and began a monologue trashing Soderling: we asked honest questions, and got honest answers. The Mighty Fed (remember him, the guy taking his mid-season break in Nassau?) is good that way, and so is Nadal. Among other things, it makes someone like me feel like it's worth doing my job. At any rate, you can read the pressers and make up your own mind about this whole affair.

Our own Miguel Seabra had an interesting take on this controversy when he stopped by my desk a few minutes ago. He believes that Mats Wilander was working behind the scenes, pumping his Davis Cup charge (Mats is captain of the Swedish team) to stand up to Nadal - perhaps not in such a mocking, overly aggressive way, but to send the signal that Soderling was not about to roll over, of fall into line in the pecking order. It's an interesting theory, although I'm sure Mats wouldn't advocate the kind of flagrant, cock-of-the-walk behavior as Soderling showed.

A short while after Soderling's presser ended, Andy Roddick was in the interview room. His presser is a gem, make sure you read the whole thing. But the relevant bit here is the way he handled a question about the Nadal-Soderling dust-up. He was asked about the impact of Nadal's "delaying tactics" - or, if you prefer, Nadal's habit of imposing the pace he prefers on the match, regardless of who is serving (play is, theoretically, supposed to proceed at the server's pace). Did it bother Roddick, or the other players, as well?  He said: "I don't know, It hasn't bothered me when I faced him. You know, don't ask me a question that you know the answer to. . . But it doesn't bother me when we play."

However you feel about Nadal's pace-of-play, and many players privately grouse about it, there are more pressing issues for him to contemplate - including the fact that in order to win the tournament, he will have to play five-set matches for the next five days in a row. He was asked if his chances were substantially damaged, and he noted that the men in the lower-half of the draw (his), were at a considerable disadvantage. And he reminded us, with a smile and laugh, that Roger Federer has been "having holidays" this week.

The strange thing about Nadal's position is this: he might find himself praying for rain over the next few days, much like he had been praying for blue skies over the weekend. If the men in the lower half of the draw lose just one day of play (meaning, if they don't complete a match on every day from now on), the Monday final is guaranteed. Yet if Nadal plays, say, two matches, in the next two days, the best thing that could befall him would be a day in which he plays little or no tennis. And only rain can ensure that happens. No matter how you look at it, if Nadal is going to get to the final and even win this thing, he's going to have to do it the cowboy way.

But as Soderling can attest, that's something Nadal knows all about.