In between the football season and the Rugby World Cup, I have taken to watching tennis. Men’s singles, to be precise. Unlike team sports, singles are basically a test between the best each individual has to offer. In this year’s French Open and Wimbledon, I had the privilege to witness the confrontation between the best two players the game has to offer. More than that, I had the privilege to witness the rebirth of the great tennis rivalry. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal - long may they reign!

In reports before the advent of Federer and Nadal, the press had tried to stir interest in the tennis world long dominated by the mighty Pete Sampras. In the 1990s, there was no more dominant a player than the “Pistol” who swept away all before him, claiming a record 14 Grand Slam titles in the process. Any rival to Sampras was nothing more than imaginary. Andre Agassi, for so long touted as the nemesis of Sampras, managed to beat him only once in five Grand Slam final meetings. Pete was so dominant that watching tennis was becoming a boring pastime, even for my family who grew up on the sport.

During the 1980s, my family’s loyalty to tennis stars was evenly divided. My father favoured the cold and ruthless Bjorn Borg, my mother  the equally icy Ivan Lendl, my sister going for the showman Jimmy Connors and myself attracted to “you cannot be serious!” John McEnroe. Each and every one of these players embodied more rivalry and personality than any (and dare I say collectively every) tennis player who has succeeded them. Even to this day, commentators still mention their names in every tennis event I tune in to. And at the recently concluded Wimbledon, most of them, including the enigmatic Borg, were there to witness the ascension of Federer into the tennis stratosphere where he joins the others as gods of the game.

'Even when confronted by a more skilful opponent, Nadal embodies the belief that there is nothing to fear'


For a while, since the retirement of Sampras and effectively since the Swiss beat him at Wimbledon in 2001, it seemed the setting of the Sampras era would be followed by another boring lull of a Federer express stroll. Tournaments were becoming as boring and predictable as Swiss dependability. Roger, nice as he may be, was killing the game. It seemed no-one had the strength of game or the personality to rekindle my interest in the sport that had long waned when McEnroe retired into the world of commercial television.

Not even the flamboyant Agassi, it seemed, could hold the tennis world on his shoulders for too long. In the intervening years, we were served up pretenders like Gustavo Kuerten and Marco Baghdatis, icy-wannabes like Guillermo Coria, inconsistent nearly-men like Marat Safin and Andy Roddick, and under-achievers like Tim Henman and David Nalbandian. Where were the true stars? Where were the tennis players who boasted skill as well as personality? None to match the guts of Boris Becker, the phoenix-like Pat Cash, the cat-man Miloslav Mecir, the showman Yannick Noah, the human dynamo Michael Chang and the Viking parade of Swedish fans. Not to mention the fab-four my family rooted for.

Then suddenly came Rafael Nadal.

Early on, this boy with the Rock ‘n Roll looks seemed just another pretender joining a long line to come and go in the 2000s. He made his debut like a hurricane in his sleeveless top that looked for all the world like he was more interested sustaining a show rather than showing some substance. His early dominance, especially on clay, was written off as being the natural progression of a whole host of Spanish players who came before him and who favoured (maybe because they tended to excel on) the slower surface ahead of the quicker ones. Spanish players could never shine on any other surface, it seemed, and this attitude was confirmed by their own compatriot Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario who offered the famous quote: "Grass is for cows."

It was supposed to be the career path of Nadal - great on clay but a failure everywhere else. For a while in the early 2000s, it seemed that way. But that didn’t account for his absolute determination to be better than his attributed lot. 2005 will be remembered as the year he announced his arrival into the tennis world. In Australia, he pushed Lleyton Hewitt to five sets. In Miami, as a prelude of things to come, he took Federer to five where he lost. But this was reversed at Roland Garros in the semi-finals. Yet after his quick dismissal at Wimbledon and the US Open, one could be forgiven for assuming that Nadal was just another Spanish clay-court specialist not expected to make a dent on any other surface.

This has proved to be wrong. The next year was evidence that nothing was going to stop Nadal. In Dubai, he dispatched Federer and again in Monte Carlo, Rome and then in the French Open. It might have halted there, but a testimony of things to come and to the strength of Nadal’s determination came at Wimbledon. Not expected to make an impact on grass, he powered his way to the final where he was soundly defeated by Federer.

That word “soundly defeated” was totally inapplicable just a year later. The 2007 men’s single final was probably the best witnessed in decades, at least not since Borg met and scraped past McEnroe in 1980. What is pertinent to note in the finals was not so much the quality of the tennis on display or the grit of the champion that Federer no doubt is, but really how much Nadal has improved and how determined he is to topple Federer on grass.

Such determination, improvement in his game and the sheer tenacity of the man to win where he was once written off stands him out and forms the genesis of a truly great rivalry. It’s the classic confrontation between the incumbent and the young punk who throws down the gauntlet, saying: “Name the place and name the surface. I am NOT afraid of you! If I can’t defeat you today, I’ll do it tomorrow and the day after that.”

I admit I like Federer. I admire his skill and play. But during the Wimbledon final, I rooted for Nadal. The former has staked his claim to be the best player ever but the latter embodies the passion in the game. Even when confronted by a more skilful opponent, he embodies the belief that there is nothing to fear, that we can be better than what we are and that there is reward to be had when there is a will to win.

Federer may be a god, but Nadal is an inspiration.