“Is this a match, or a friendly?” The question came from former tennis and soccer player John McEnroe, who was commentating on the fourth-round encounter between Viktor Troicki and his fellow Serb Novak Djokovic. Troicki had just held his racquet up in Djokovic’s direction after a Hawk-Eye replay. McEnroe said, with a hint of sarcasm, “He’s apologizing. For challenging.”
Troicki’s performance was indeed a friendly one from Djokovic’s perspective. The top seed cruised into the quarterfinals while surrendering just seven games to his lifelong buddy. It was Djokovic’s 12th straight win over Troicki since 2009, and the third at a Grand Slam.
We’ve talked ceaselessly over the last few years about the mental toughness and unprecedented consistency of the Top 3 players, Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, and Djokovic. But there are two sides to every tennis match. If those three are winning all the time, someone else has been doing a lot of losing. What’s going on with the guys on the other side of the net, the ones who keep getting beaten, over and over, by the big boys?
If you want to make a comparison to cycling, you might say that Djokovic, Nadal, and Federer each come with a team, like the lead riders at the Tour de France. The tennis versions of those teams aren’t trying to help their leaders, of course; they do their best against them. But whether it’s out of fear, or friendship, or too much respect, or total lack of belief, they never seem to block their way, either.
Nadal thrives against a literal team, his fellow Spanish Davis Cuppers. Rafa’s career record against seven of his teammates is 63-10 (five of those losses came to David Ferrer alone). Djokovic is also money against his Serbian teammates; he’s 17-3 versus Troicki and Janko Tipsarevic. (Novak obviously needs to get a few more of his countryman on the tour.) As for Federer, he has also dominated his fellow Swiss Stan Wawrinka, to the tune of a 12-1 career record. But Federer’s ownership extends to the players, of all nations, that he has grown up playing. He’s 111-22 against eight guys (Roddick, Hewitt, Youzhny, Davydenko, Nalbandian, Ferrer, Malisse, and Fish) who are in the vicinity of 30 years old, Federer’s own age. Against the best of the next generation—Nadal, Djokovic, and Murray—Federer is 31-39.
It’s hard to play a friend or a teammate. It’s even harder to believe that you're suddenly good enough to beat someone who has routinely thrashed you for the better part of a decade. And in general, the players who struggle against, say, Federer, also struggle against Nadal and Djokovic; Ferrer’s career record against the Big 3 is 10-40, and he’s ranked No. 5 in the world. The second tier is the second tier for a reason—they’re not as good as the first tier. But I don’t think they’re that bad, either.
A couple of nights before Djokovic’s win over Troicki, I watched some of the replay of Lukas Rosol’s upset of Nadal. The difference between Rosol’s playing style and demeanor, and the styles and demeanors of most lower-ranked players when they face the Top 3, was striking. He played with a glint of determination, aggression, and eagerness—a swagger. He didn’t bow down to his more famous opponent or let him dictate the flow of the match. Rafa likes to play slowly, so Rosol did the logical thing and play quickly. More important, he had a plan—go for the corners with every hanging forehand—and he stuck with it.
