Spring finally showed its face yesterday. The sun was out, the women in my neighborhood were sporting those giant, retro-futuristic goggle shades again—really, how can we tell what you look like when you wear those things?—my Phillies won their second in a row (can you say turnaround?), and tennis was suddenly in the air, in the form of the year’s first meeting between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.
When I discovered on Friday that the Fed-Rafa final in Monte Carlo would be best-of-three, I was initially disappointed—I’m a proponent of best-of-five, at least at the Slams, and Federer and Nadal have shown a propensity for the memorable epic in the past (see Rome, Key Biscayne, and, to a slightly lesser extent, Monte Carlo last year, which was decided in a fourth-set tiebreaker). But when I sat down to watch the match yesterday, I was glad it had been shortened. Not only was it too nice out to sit indoors for five hours, but I felt involved in every point right from the start. The opening games weren’t preludes; there was no feeling-out process. The main event started with the first game, and you could see that both Federer and Nadal felt extra pressure not to go down an early break. This was the first time they’d played two-of-three on clay.
To that end, Federer began by barreling to the net, the way so many pundits—myself included—have urged. He held serve, but in that first game Nadal did something just as important. After Federer hammered an inside-out forehand for a sure winner into the corner, Nadal somehow slid, stretched with his forehand, and found the strength to poke an absurd passing-shot winner down the line. After that, Federer didn’t abandon the net, exactly, but he was less bent on getting there.
Instead, he and Nadal took turns getting tight through the first set. Each time one would get a sniff at a break, he'd miss a shot when he had the advantage in the point. These probably went down as unforced errors, but both guys were adjusting to the need to make their shots better than they have to be against anyone else. (I've always thought this was a partial, and overlooked, explanation for why the Williams sisters' matches have been so error-filled.) Whatever the reason, Federer missed a forehand on break point in the first game; Nadal made two forehand errors when he was up 15-30 on Federer’s serve at 2-2; at 3-3, Nadal hit two winners to get back to 40-30, had an attackable forehand, and stoned it 10 feet out; up 4-3, Federer missed two break chances, one with a bad forehand miss.
No one knew it then, but that was it for Federer. Nadal played an intelligent game to hold for 4-4; on one break point, he caught Federer leaning to his forehand side and surprised him with a serve up the middle that Federer shanked badly. Overall, Nadal’s serve was sneakily effective. He hit just one ace, but he routinely slid the ball on the line or fit it deep in the corner of the box. His wide serve in the ad court either drew a backhand error from Federer or put him at a severe disadvantage to start the point. It also didn’t hurt that Nadal made 79 percent of his first-serves (compared to 55 for Federer).
Federer seemed to feel the disappointment of letting his break chance get away. Serving at 4-4, he immediately made two forehand errors, and another to lose the game. He was on the defensive for long stretches trying to fend off Nadal’s forehand with his backhand; but when he finally got a chance to be aggressive, Federer missed. Contrast that with Nadal, who on set point scrambled far to his forehand corner, caught Federer by surprise at the net and forced him to pop the ball up, and then made no mistake with the next forehand, drilling it for a winner and the set.
The momentum of the last three games of the first set—positive for Nadal; distinctly negative for Federer—carried through the entire second. Nadal cut out the errors (he would finish with 19 to Federer’s 38; they each hit 19 winners) while Federer began to play both more passively and erratically. He says he has trouble adjusting his return for clay—the ball kicks a little higher on the serve—and he continued to give Nadal free points with it. The rallies began to take on a familiar pattern, one Federer knows well from past clay matches against the Spaniard: Nadal pounds heavy forehands; Federer, pushed back, hits progressively shorter backhands. This is not a winning scenario, no matter what your ranking is. I know Nadal has outstanding passing shots, but if your alternative to slicing a backhand and coming to net is to get pounded behind the baseline, I think you have to take your chances at the net, even if it means getting the ball belted by you a dozen times. At the very least, Federer might have tried slicing to Nadal’s backhand more often, to see if he could provoke a short ball.
A final thought on Federer: A Tennis Channel announcer wondered why he wasn't showing more intensity. It's something I've wondered myself while watching his clay matches against Nadal. Is it that the Spaniard sucks up all the intensity available in the arena? In other words, does Federer just cede the passion thing to Nadal? Or is Federer a little intimidated by it, as if he feels he could never out-intense Nadal, so why bother trying? Or is he just not used to relying on getting fired up to help him win a tennis match? Whatever the reason, some visible sign of emotion or fight would at least serve as a reminder to himself—as well as his opponent and anyone watching—of just who really is the best player in the world. That couldn't hurt, could it?
In the end, this was Nadal’s win, not Federer’s loss. Rafa was just doing what he’d been doing all week. He didn’t lose a set in the tournament; incredibly, coming into the final he had won more games on his opponents’ serves than they had. Against Federer, Nadal got down in games and fought his way out; he simplified his strategy for crucial points by going relentlessly at Federer’s backhand; he was offensive at times with his backhand; and he gained in confidence as the match went on. Serving at 4-3, 40-0 in the second, he kicked a serve in and Federer went for an all-or-nothing inside-out forehand that landed at the baseline. Nadal leaned in, picked the ball up on a short hop, and sent back a low, humming forehand that Federer barely scraped off the clay. It was official: The kid had his confidence back.
Last year at this time we were beginning to speak of Nadal as a challenger for Federer’s No. 1 spot. That’s not on anyone’s mind now, but watching Nadal celebrate by rolling in the dirt in obvious relief, I could admire him just for holding his ground—for still being there. There have been clay-court champions and No. 2-ranked players in the recent past who have come and gone quickly and quietly—Corretja, Rios, Ferrero, Coria come to mind. Nadal, who has hung on to the No. 2 position longer than anyone in history (a sign of his fundamental cussedness), showed again why he isn’t one of them. He’s had his share of disappointments over the last nine months, while Federer has reached new heights. But Nadal was still there yesterday to win his second Masters title of 2007 and record his seventh win in 10 matches against the world’s best. Whether or not he goes on to win the French Open again, Nadal’s Monte Carlo title was an impressive show of resilience in its own right. It was worth a roll in the dirt.