The Epic
My poor language skills cannot do justice to what I witnessed on Sunday night. Here is the article from Times about the greatest Wimbledon final ever.
Like a couple of gladiators from a vain, bygone era, they waded into the darkness, sparring, assailing, conjuring magic until the last point was snared out of each other.
The world watched in awe, and disbelief, from the edge of its ice-cold seat, as the coliseum called Wimbledon came alive on a glorious Sunday night.
If anything, there was just one minor twist in this heroic battle: Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal didn’t carry on and on like worn-out warriors, until they were overpowered by fatigue; they didn’t gasp through the last act on weary legs, drooping arms and withering souls.
In fact, they found new life and new purpose after each shot, each point and each game; every skirmish was like a mini epic, each surpassing the previous one in its grandeur and execution. Amazingly, they were not goaded on by the prospect of defeat or doom, like those gladiators, but by the promise of salvation itself.
True, the rain gods intervened and gave them breaks at the most appropriate of times; true, the evening was cool and pleasant, supplying both with a fresh breath of energy whenever the long arms of doubt or exhaustion were creeping in.
But 4 hours and 48 minutes? Can any other contest scale such heights of pure perfection, nerve-pounding rallies and ethereal shots that till now existed only in some other solar system, or some other dimension?
In the end, of course, Nadal emerged victorious; actually, there was never any doubt, right from the beginning, that he would win. But believe-it-or-go-take-a-walk, it was Federer who played the more divine tennis; he was sublime throughout, whipping out one eye-popping winner after another.
He served better (25 aces to Nadal’s 6), derived more out of his first serve (73% against 69%) and even won the same number of points while receiving (33%); indeed, overall he won just five points lesser than the Spaniard (204 to 209).
But then, the story of his downfall lurks elsewhere: in unforced errors. He made 52 mistakes while Nadal, playing near-perfect percentage tennis, managed only 27. The truth is you could see defeat, despair, in Federer’s eye; you could read it in his body language, at virtually every step.
Nadal too was ambushed by doubt: his brows too furrowed and his lips pursed, quite visibly in the fourth set, but it was transient; he had greater self-belief, more power and higher reserves of energy. He was virtually omni-present, gliding all over the court like a free bird.
Federer, on the other hand, looked mesmerized, walking on a tightrope of his own making. He didn’t win too many games actually; he saved most of them. Each time he held serve, there was only relief, even in his own box, rather than conviction or hope. He was broken just four times but he himself managed only one out of 13.
The fact is, just like at the French Open where he was demolished by poor tactics, Federer got it wrong here too. He was always in a hurry, while patience would have been a better bet. Whenever he made that pre-determined charge, he was beaten by a laser-driven passing shot; whenever he attacked Nadal’s second serve, he was caught by a surprise.
Nadal’s ploy was simple: he attacked Federer’s body with his serve, not giving him any room to play his forcing shots. He delayed his own game till the last moment, leaving Federer unsure and frustrated. With a delicate flick of his wrists, like a table-tennis player, he made the Swiss scurry from one end to the other.
Federer was, in fact, so wary of Nadal’s forehand whiplash that he used his own inside-out winner sparingly; more destructively, he attempted to volley only when he thought he had Nadal’s backhand in a corner. Almost every time, he was greeted by a cross-court beauty. Why didn’t he see it?
As devastating as it may sound, Federer won only 56% of the times he approached the net; Nadal, on the other hand, converted as many as 71%. Basically, Federer was beaten at his own game; it can’t get worse than this for him. Can he ever overcome this nightmare? Can he ever tame Nadal? Or has Nadal already become the gladiator supreme?
Like a couple of gladiators from a vain, bygone era, they waded into the darkness, sparring, assailing, conjuring magic until the last point was snared out of each other.
The world watched in awe, and disbelief, from the edge of its ice-cold seat, as the coliseum called Wimbledon came alive on a glorious Sunday night.
If anything, there was just one minor twist in this heroic battle: Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal didn’t carry on and on like worn-out warriors, until they were overpowered by fatigue; they didn’t gasp through the last act on weary legs, drooping arms and withering souls.
In fact, they found new life and new purpose after each shot, each point and each game; every skirmish was like a mini epic, each surpassing the previous one in its grandeur and execution. Amazingly, they were not goaded on by the prospect of defeat or doom, like those gladiators, but by the promise of salvation itself.
True, the rain gods intervened and gave them breaks at the most appropriate of times; true, the evening was cool and pleasant, supplying both with a fresh breath of energy whenever the long arms of doubt or exhaustion were creeping in.
But 4 hours and 48 minutes? Can any other contest scale such heights of pure perfection, nerve-pounding rallies and ethereal shots that till now existed only in some other solar system, or some other dimension?
In the end, of course, Nadal emerged victorious; actually, there was never any doubt, right from the beginning, that he would win. But believe-it-or-go-take-a-walk, it was Federer who played the more divine tennis; he was sublime throughout, whipping out one eye-popping winner after another.
He served better (25 aces to Nadal’s 6), derived more out of his first serve (73% against 69%) and even won the same number of points while receiving (33%); indeed, overall he won just five points lesser than the Spaniard (204 to 209).
But then, the story of his downfall lurks elsewhere: in unforced errors. He made 52 mistakes while Nadal, playing near-perfect percentage tennis, managed only 27. The truth is you could see defeat, despair, in Federer’s eye; you could read it in his body language, at virtually every step.
Nadal too was ambushed by doubt: his brows too furrowed and his lips pursed, quite visibly in the fourth set, but it was transient; he had greater self-belief, more power and higher reserves of energy. He was virtually omni-present, gliding all over the court like a free bird.
Federer, on the other hand, looked mesmerized, walking on a tightrope of his own making. He didn’t win too many games actually; he saved most of them. Each time he held serve, there was only relief, even in his own box, rather than conviction or hope. He was broken just four times but he himself managed only one out of 13.
The fact is, just like at the French Open where he was demolished by poor tactics, Federer got it wrong here too. He was always in a hurry, while patience would have been a better bet. Whenever he made that pre-determined charge, he was beaten by a laser-driven passing shot; whenever he attacked Nadal’s second serve, he was caught by a surprise.
Nadal’s ploy was simple: he attacked Federer’s body with his serve, not giving him any room to play his forcing shots. He delayed his own game till the last moment, leaving Federer unsure and frustrated. With a delicate flick of his wrists, like a table-tennis player, he made the Swiss scurry from one end to the other.
Federer was, in fact, so wary of Nadal’s forehand whiplash that he used his own inside-out winner sparingly; more destructively, he attempted to volley only when he thought he had Nadal’s backhand in a corner. Almost every time, he was greeted by a cross-court beauty. Why didn’t he see it?
As devastating as it may sound, Federer won only 56% of the times he approached the net; Nadal, on the other hand, converted as many as 71%. Basically, Federer was beaten at his own game; it can’t get worse than this for him. Can he ever overcome this nightmare? Can he ever tame Nadal? Or has Nadal already become the gladiator supreme?
posted by Eden | 10:47 PM
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