by Pete Bodo
The last time we experienced a multi-surface, year-round, all-hands-present-all-the-time rivalry comparable to the ongoing one between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, it ended in tears. Actually, far worse than tears. It ended up with a sobbing Monica Seles crumpled on the clay in Hamburg, Germany, the victim of a knife attack by a deranged fan of her great rival, Steffi Graf.
I’ve been thinking about that ever since the question, “Who’s the greater player, Federer or Nadal?” achieved maturity when Nadal completed his career Grand Slam and won his ninth major—a landmark surpassed by only four men in the Open era: Rod Laver, Bjorn Borg, Pete Sampras and Federer (is it mere coincidence that “nine” seems to be the magic number that separates these competitors from the merely great players?).
In the spring of 1993, up to the time that Seles was attacked, her rivalry with Graf had grown as white-hot as our present rivalry between the top two men. And the parallels are interesting. Granted, the stylistic contrast between those two dominant female pros wasn’t as pronounced as the vivid difference between the games of Federer and Nadal. Graf was never as smooth and quick as Federer (although she was comparably swift, in relative terms), and she lacked the overflowing toolbox that leaves Federer in a dead heat with Laver when it comes to versatility. But she bucked the conventional wisdom with that one-handed, predominantly slice backhand, much like Federer does in this era of power two-handers. And the source of their genius is similar.
The Mighty Fed’s style is so appealing and, in Pete Sampras’s famous formulation, so “easy on the eyes” that it obscures the role basic athleticism plays in his game. It’s all well and good to be able to flick the cross-court, one-handed backhand pass at a severe angle, but you need the wheels to get you there, and the elastic limbs to make all those moving parts work in unison to produce the desired result.
Graf’s success was much more conspicuously linked to her athleticism, an impression heightened by the Do-It-Yourself nature of actual game. That hiccup with which she began her serve, the height of her toss; that forehand hit off her right hip, that backhand taken in close, with Graf hunched over the ball like some bird of prey—those mechanics no pro would teach. Federer wins partly because of his seamless style; Graf won in spite of her rough edges.
The comparison is less subtle on the other side of the draw. Seles, like Nadal, played a brand of tennis rarely seen before—both technically and conceptually. Her two-fisted shots off both wings were as novel as Rafa's violent, bolo forehand. And her go-for-broke sensibility, while more risky than Nadal’s version (because she hit flatter, more penetrating balls) was perhaps even bolder. Until Nadal began to flesh out his game with a slice backhand, he shared Seles' talent for simplifying the game. Hit the ball hard enough, steadily enough, and into the right places on the court, and the rest will take care of itself.
Seles was not in the same league as Nadal, athleticism-wise (who is?). But her zest for competition was no less visible and convincing. And that’s just what most perturbed their rivals. Both Graf and Federer must have asked themselves, “Who does this kid think he/she is?” when Seles and Nadal arrived on the scene to challenge.
The arc of these four careers bears comparison. Graf is three-and-a-half years older than Seles—that’s almost half a career, tennis-wise. Federer is almost five years older than Nadal, and the head-start he enjoyed must be repaid at the back end of his career. This process has already started, and it may play an increasing role in the longevity to which Federer aspires. It’s all well and good to say you want to play as long as you enjoy the game, but what if doing so entails seeing your legacy evaporate before your very eyes? Would that still be enjoyable?
Seles won her first major at Roland Garros in 1990, by which time Graf already had nine majors (there’s that number again). Rafa won his first Grand Slam event in 2005, by which time TMF had four majors in hand. But it’s become clear that Federer was a relatively late starter, so the difference isn’t as critical as it may appear. Graf and Federer were cast from day one as the hunted, while Seles and Nadal flourished as the hunters. The latter role is always easier and perhaps more comfortable, which helps explains how quickly they established themselves as equals.
At the time Seles was stabbed, she was on a faster track to glory than the one Graf had followed. Seles won her first major in the fourth Grand Slam event she played—Graf played 11 before she won Roland Garros in 1987. Seles won eight of the 14 majors she played up to the time she was stabbed, in a span of almost exactly four years. It took Graf six-and-a-half years of Grand Slam play to bag eight.
Nadal won a major in his sixth attempt, while Federer didn’t hoist the silver until his 17th Grand Slam outing. Nadal won nine majors in just over five years; it took Federer almost seven years to get to No. 9. These comparisons are handy but not entirely reliable, because of the other circumstances that shape tennis history as well as individual statistics. For instance, Graf had to contend with Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova when she came onto the tour; like Federer, who overlapped with Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi, she was kept from fully blossoming by the strength of the field she faced. And there’s no doubt that both Nadal and Seles benefitted enormously if subtly from having the bar set high by the very players they were determined to unseat. There's no doubt in my mind that Federer made Nadal a better player, just as Graf did for Seles.
The head-to-head department is where the comparison gets shaky, although it's impossible to say what the final H2H between Graf and Seles might have become were it not for the stabbing incident. Graf holds the career H2H advantage, 10-5. Seles won just one of four meetings with Graf after her rehabilitation and return to the tour, although she never was quite the same player after the trauma. Here the roles are reversed, as Nadal (the challenger) leads Federer (the champ) by 14-7. The argument that so many of Nadal's wins were crafted on clay is less convincing now that Nadal has shown his proficiency on grass and hard courts.
Next week, I'll take a closer look at what the future might hold in store for the Federer vs. Nadal rivalry, and publish some thoughts on the relative strengths and weaknesses of each man's record. Meanwhile, have a good weekend, everyone. Use this as your Crisis Center post for Saturday.