Once again I get back to my previously stated theory: Success on clay courts is a matter of style and preference, sometimes even choice. Federer grew up on clay, yet he is no grinder and he is no Nadal. He's a guy whose style and innate approach to the game are better served on faster courts, because on them his movement, quickness and reflexes are more obviously rewarded. Or put it this way: on fast courts, Federer's superiority as a mover are not hampered by a playing surface that allows less gifted players to stay in points. Boris Becker and Stefan Edberg, who both were weaned on clay, are even better and more dramatic examples of how you can grow up on clay, but have talent that enables you to transcend your background far more successfully than can, say, a Guillermo Vilas or Albert Costa.
It's an error to dismiss what I semi-seriously dubbed The Dreaded Clay-Court Demon. Given the proliferation of tournaments and the fact that only one major is on clay,it should be easy to see why some players simply decide it isn't worth putting in the effort to get comfortable and confident on clay. Pete Sampras's early record on clay was promising (it included an Italian Open title), but as he emerged as the dominant player fast courts, he neglected to put a special priority on winning at Roland Garros (or on clay in general). If your heart's not into playing on clay, you're a perfect mark for a grinder. And if you are repeatedly frustrated on clay (or any other surface), you tend to lose interest in being good on it - look at Keurten's non-record at Wimbledon.
The other dimension at play in this process is the lack of confidence bred by failure, and this is where the demon comes in. Because if you're a Sampras or even a Federer, people have high expectations. This creates pressure and unease. Does anyone doubt that the issue in TMF's career has become: Can he win the French? Doesn't this - by definition - take him out of the comfort zone he inhabits at the other three majors? Roland Garros may not haunt players, but the inability to win there can become a monkey on any player's back, and undermine his confidence. And top players don't need to dwell on what they can't do, or haven't done. They need to be optimistic and confident, focusing on their strengths. So the French can easily become a perpetual bit of unfinished business better left unadressed; and an asterisk on the resume. Yes, he's great, but can he win the French?
There's this, too: Clay is the easiest of surfaces to ignore if you're an American or Australian. It's startling, the degree to which the current generation of U.S. players treats the European clay-court circuit as an inconvenience. Europeans and South Americans put special emphasis on owning the bragging rights to clay: it is, in some ways, the "alternative" surface in a world that has always been dominated by Anglo priorities, Anglo events, Anglo players. Clay is where players from what might be called the emerging nations (although most of them are emerged, with a vengeance) tend to get their payback. And now, you can add a familiar name to list of contenders: Felix Mantilla.
Mantilla is the proto-typical grinder. Among all the players, he is the most like Guillermo Canas: very solid off both sides, and perhaps even more wedded to the baseline than Willy. Mantilla had a good run in the late 1990s; he was ranked as high as No. 10, he won the Italian Open, and reached the semifinals of Roland Garros in 1988. His game began to decline, somewhat inexplicably as far as I remember, before he was diagnosed with skin cancer in 2005. A former winner at Barcelona (where the SEAT Open is currently underway), he won his first round match there yesterday and is attempting a comeback.
That puts one more grinder for the Federers and Djokovics and Murrays to worry about in the coming weeks.