!Strokes of Genius The Book Club returns as Kamakshi Tandon and I discuss Jon Wertheim'sStrokes of Genius: Federer, Nadal and the Greatest Match Ever Played. You can read an excerpt from it on Tennis.com.
Hi Kamakshi,
Hate Jon Wertheim? That’s against the law, isn’t it? Of all tennis writers, maybe even of all sportswriters, I would say that he receives the least amount of criticism. That’s not because he plays it safe, necessarily; it’s because his strongest trait is his judgment—you can trust Jon to be thoughtful and fair, as well as being open-minded without espousing anything faddish. That’s hard to criticize.
Jon’s evenhanded insights are on display in Strokes of Genius, though you’re right, the book was rushed. That fact is given away even before you open it: both the title and cover design could charitably be described as "uninspired." And when I read someone as experienced as Wertheim writing a line as pat as, “The stands for other big-time sporting events are peopled by corporate stiffs and the brie-eating, see-and-be-seen luxury box set,” I have to believe that if he’d had a little more time, the writing would have been more ambitious.
Of course, there was no choice. It was either write about this match immediately, or wait 20 years to do the full historical treatment. It couldn't be started today, now that another classic Wimbledon final is fresher in our minds. The upside of the time pressure is that Wertheim delivered a compact, fast read that’s still heavy on information. As you said, Kamakshi, professional tennis observers are unlikely to find anything stunning in here, but I was still impressed by how many of the details, both of these guys’ lives and the events surrounding the match, were new to me.
The last book we did, about Budge vs. Cramm in 1937, was also called the greatest match of all time in its subtitle. With the background of World War II and the inclusion of a character as rich as Germany's Cramm, the author had much more to work with there. But Wertheim makes the most of his short-range view of Federer and Nadal. Rather than a Levels of the Game look at how two players' personalities are manifested during a tennis match, Strokes functions more like a co-biography. The backgrounds of Federer and Nadal are quietly and smoothly woven through the story, and even though I already knew most of the big events of their lives, I had a lot of the particulars about their families, their childhoods, and their early tennis experiences filled in.
Federer is painted in a very sympathetic light; he ends up coming off as some kind of man for all seasons, both of and above the masses. Where some others would descry a strain of (useful) conceit in Federer’s various post-match quotes and on-court fashion statements, Wertheim takes the line that he simply isn’t going to do false modesty—fair enough. I don't disagree with the essential idea that Federer is an authentic mix of the human and the beyond-human, though I cocked an eyebrow at the dubious notion, backed up by instructional guru John Yandell, that his brilliant but fairly traditional forehand can be copied by rec players, that it's "a stroke of genius and a stroke for the masses." Which masses, exactly?
More important, though, is that Wertheim comes up with two sharp insights about Federer to help explain his seemingly inexplicable success. The first is that he realized his sky-high potential in part because his parents put so little pressure on him to do so.
Instead of supplementing God-given sports talent with burning ambition and intense training, perhaps it needs to be “depressurized.” Instead of saddling their son with expectation, the Federers stressed fun. Maybe this relentless onslaught of “normal”—natural fertilizer, so to speak—is precisely what abnormal talent requires for growth.
The second intriguing Federer-related theory involves the Swiss’ use of what Wertheim terms “Soft Power.” Federer goes out of his way to be friendly to all of his potential opponents, to be one of the guys in the locker room—for a competitive person, he does his best to take the personal confrontation out of it. Rather than making him seem too nice, and therefore vulnerable, it endears the other players to him and lessens their desire to beat him. They end up facing not just another guy, but a phenomenon—they’re almost on his team. I’d never thought of this before, but it was certainly borne out at the French Open. Robin Soderling didn’t just play differently against Federer in the final than he had against Nadal in the fourth round, he competed differently. And when Soderling lost a tight match to Federer at Wimbledon a few weeks later, he walked off with a broad smile across his face, as if he were honored to go out to the Greatest.
Wertheim also brings Nadal and his quirks to life, but in a slightly less adulatory way. We get a good look at the Spaniard's old-world philosophy—taken in large from the book’s most original character, the determinedly stoical Uncle Toni— and the influence of Mallorca's island culture on him, but I think Wertheim sells Nadal a little short in one area. Wertheim describes him as a tough and testy interview, a kid who has been well-programmed in the bland, safe answer and who is easily annoyed in press conferences, especially when compared to the polished and media-friendly Federer. There’s no doubt that Nadal knows how to hang onto a mantra—“I’m young and I just want to get better”—but I’ve always been struck more by how quick and poised he is in a presser. He simply won’t let anyone put words in his mouth, and on most of the occasions when he corrects a questioner or disagrees with the premise, he’s right. For example, as Nadal climbed the rankings and challenged Federer’s supremacy, he was asked in a few press conferences about whether he considered himself the “favorite” in a certain tournament or on a certain surface. If he said yes, it was a good headline. His typical answer was that he doesn’t think in terms of “favorite,” that that’s a media concoction, and that he has to play each match without thinking long term. That may sound like a programmed answer to some people, but it’s also an honest one, and a smart one.
I’ll get to the match itself and some of the other side characters who pop up around it next time. What did you think of Jon’s portrayals of Roger and Rafa, Kamakshi? Do you see either of them any differently now that you’ve read the book?
Steve