“WE HAVE LIFTOFF,” TENNIS Magazine confidently asserted.
“FANTASTIC FINISH IN ROME,” USA Today breathlessly blared.
“FEDERER-NADAL IS STARTING TO HAVE THAT FRAZIER-ALI RING,” TheNew York Times hopefully prophesied.
On May 16, 2006, the famously divided world of tennis found something that it could agree on: The rivalry between Federer and Nadal, after simmering for two years, had come to a boil over the course of a five-hour final at the Foro Italico in Rome. More important, fans and media concurred, this clash of opposites was exactly what the sport needed.
“This is a day I cannot forget,” said Rome tournament director and longtime player-agent Sergio Palmieri in a soft voice of awe as he looked back on the 2006 final. “What really hit me was how big the respect was between the two guys. The intensity of that match was really unbelievable.”
The ’06 Rome final was the Big Bang of our current tennis universe, and to watch it now is to feel its particular hothouse intensity all over again. Here was one of those rare moments when the sport’s future seemed at stake.
The match was played on a bright, warm day in the Foro Italico’s old, intimate, now-demolished Campo Centrale, a stadium with no room for a luxury suite, let alone a Jumbotron. It was so intimate, in fact, that there wasn’t much room for Federer and Nadal to maneuver as they backed each other up with topspin missiles and slid past the doubles alleys to track them down. The playing surface was a tight rectangle, and the presence of the ever-excitable Italian fans a few feet away only heightened the inevitable tension of a match between the world’s No. 1 and No. 2 players.
The previous month, after losing to Nadal in another close final in Monte Carlo, Federer had maintained that he was a “step closer” to solving the Rafa riddle. Yet he also admitted that he couldn’t put his finger on why he was losing to him.
“I also would like to be able to answer more clearly why it happened,” Federer said, “but I’ve got to change it next time. I’ve got to play aggressive.”
Federer lived up to his vow three weeks later in Rome. He came to the net 84 times and won 64 of those points. He controlled the rallies with his forehand rather than letting Nadal control them with his. He sent Rafa into the sideline walls with his angles. He won the first set by playing a perfect 7-0 tiebreaker. In the fifth set, he led 4-1 and had two match points. In the deciding tiebreaker, he led 5-3. Yet after all of that, Nadal ran away with the last four points and the title.
“I had a couple of match points, I pulled the trigger too early,” Federer said. “I definitely played some of the best attacking tennis on clay that I could play. But he defends so well and makes you doubt.”
It was that doubt, which Federer didn’t feel against anyone else, that made the difference. It wouldn’t be the last time that Federer pulled the trigger too early on a forehand against Rafa; over the years, the majority of Nadal’s wins over him would end with a Federer forehand miss.
In Rome, Federer felt something more than doubt. For the first time, he let his frustration with not being able to beat Nadal show. During the match he looked toward the player’s box and asked, “Everything all right, Toni?” Was he was talking to his coach, Tony Roche, or his agent, Tony Godsick? No, Federer was lobbing a little sarcasm in the direction of a third Toni: Rafa’s uncle. Federer felt that Toni Nadal was illegally giving his nephew advice.
“He was coaching a little bit too much again today,” Federer said. “Yeah, I caught him in the act.”
The handshake between the two was as hurried and icy as the match had been long and hot. Later, Federer called Nadal’s game “one-dimensional.”
The next day, back in Mallorca, Nadal said of Federer, “He has to learn to be a gentleman even when he loses.”
Were the two about to follow in the footsteps of tennis rivals past and turn their matchup into a blood feud? Many promoters hoped the answer was yes. As the AP wrote during that year’s French Open, “It wouldn’t hurt the TV ratings or buzz factor if there were a bit of animosity—or at least a difference of opinion [between the two].”
After Rome, Federer and Nadal each withdrew from the next tournament, in Hamburg. But they couldn’t avoid each other at the Laureus Sports Awards in Barcelona at the end of May. Federer was nominated for “Sportsman of the Year,” Nadal for “Newcomer of the Year.” Each won, and each found himself applauding for the other. Maybe it was these triumphs that softened the edge, but that moment marked the end of their early dissension and started their rivalry down a new track.
“We sat at the same table with the Princess of Spain between us,” Federer said, “and we noticed that it wasn’t such a big deal.”
Over the course of five hours in Rome, each man had earned the other’s respect. Nadal had always known how good Federer was; now Federer knew that Nadal wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. There was room, it seemed, for both of them at the top.
