Fading Light

As Rafael Nadal readied to serve to Roger Federer for the 2008 Wimbledon title at 8-7 in the fifth set, the light finally faded to the point of no return. Nadal would serve into the void. Roger Federer would stab at a barely visible blur. This is what it came to: the greatest men’s Grand Slam final match since the 1980 Borg v. McEnroe classic, decided on account of darkness.

The man who had been swathed in the warm light of fan and peer adulation for going on five years was no longer stage-center. His rival for the past three years emerged from behind the curtain and was suddenly bathed in the bright white light of flashbulbs bursting like celebratory fireworks. A new world champion had taken his place at center stage.

The fade and flash of light was a fitting portent to this marked milestone in the careers of two of the greatest players ever to step onto the grass at Centre Court—symbolic of each man’s evolution. Exiting the stage was Federer, five-time Wimbledon champion and owner of 12 Grand Slam titles—the undisputed world #1 for more than four consecutive years. In his place a proud new champion who had stood in the wings for three years, biding his time and biting the neck of every trophy he collected in a gesture that underscored his insatiable hunger.

Federer’s rise is an example of organic evolution. A world champion in the juniors, as a young pro he displayed virtuoso talent as well as a diva-like quality, which showed in his frustration over his own less-than-perfect performances. Once he learned to quell the perfectionist within, his talent allowed him to blossom into a rare star—colorful yet traditional, shy yet confident, powerful yet controlled, graceful yet wildly ambitious. Seventeen Grand Slam starts after turning pro, he finally “emerged” one month shy of 22 with his first Wimbledon crown, a rather long draught for such a promising player.

Another 17 Slams later, Federer had amassed 12 titles—three times winning three Slams in one calendar year—a dominance not seen among the men in the Open era, and not seen at all since Steffi Graf won eight of nine Slam titles between the 1988 and 1990 Australian Opens and 10 of 11 Slams between the 1993 French Open and 1996 U.S. Open.

Federer’s descent from the pinnacle of greatness has been like that of a falling star, which catches our gaze and keeps us transfixed. It arguably began with his back-to-back losses in 2007 to Argentine Guillermo Canas, who had just returned to the tour from a two-year doping suspension. Those two losses exposed Federer’s Achilles heel. His next notable loss would come in the semifinal of the 2008 Australian Open to Novak Djokovic, the Serbian player who often comes across as too full of himself. There’s never been any love lost between these two, and that loss took its toll.

Andy Roddick was next up to bat, and he defeated Federer at the Miami masters event in the quarterfinals, Federer’s first meaningful loss to Roddick in 12 matches. The way Federer lost was so uncharacteristic that it made one wonder whether he had lost something else beside his invincibility, his magic. With a chance to hold at 3-4 in the third set, Federer hit four first serves in play and shanked or buried four straight groundstrokes to hand the balls over to Andy to serve it out, which he gladly obliged.

It was discovered that Federer may have been suffering from mononucleosis in Melbourne. He took on Jose Higueras, who coached Jim Courier to two French Open titles, to help him gear-up for a run at Roland Garros, and he spent a good part of the spring season battling the lingering effects of the mono to build his strength for that run—a strategy many questioned.

Nadal’s ascendancy, and despite the computer rankings still showing Federer hanging on at the top he has clearly ascended, has been a long time coming also, but with three straight years as the world #2 it is more of a breakout than a coming out. Just the way in which he has assumed the mantel is impressive.

After defending his titles in Barcelona and Hamburg in the European clay-court run-up to Roland Garros, Nadal put the hammer down on the competition in Paris, not dropping a set on his way to the highly anticipated final against Federer. From the first game with Federer serving, Nadal got his rival in a vise and never let up, beating him for the third straight year, this time convincingly. It was the second most lopsided score in a Slam final in the Open era—6-1, 6-3, 6-0.

That drubbing of the world #1 was the match that propelled Nadal to the top of the tour, in the eyes of his peers and those in the know, if not by the logic of the ATP computer. He went into the Wimbledon tune-ups brimming with confidence, and took the title at Queen’s Club in three tiebreak sets, despite being aced 35 times by big-serving Croatian, Ivo Karlovic.

By mid-June, the storyline heard most was that Federer would prevail on what had virtually become his “home court” for a sixth straight crown, surpassing Bjorn Borg’s record. The story heard almost as often was that Nadal would seize this one from his friend and rival, also putting him in legion with Borg, who is the last man to win the French and Wimbledon back to back. Borg himself was one of those who picked Nadal to win. There couldn’t have been a more highly anticipated event in tennis, if not in all of sport.

So there they were, with the light fading fast, two warriors battling it out for ultimate bragging rights, for the record books, and for personal pride. The match should have been called due to darkness. But there’s no chance it would have been, not with a full house and millions of viewers tuning in late in the evening on the final Sunday to see the best in men’s tennis duel in the dying sun. To suspend play would have been the worst way to end the day and the championships. There would be no escape hatch, no exit.

And at that pivotal juncture in the match, serving at 7-7 after having rebounded from two-sets down by winning the next two sets in tiebreaks, Federer faltered. Perhaps he had a moment of doubt, or as we like to say, the yips. But he lost his nerve and his serve, and Nadal would serve for the match in the dark. Facing a nearly insurmountable task, and knowing that the referee and tournament director were not inclined to suspend play, Federer seemed to merely fade away, as an actor on a stage might back away from the dimming spotlight, ghostlike. His joie de vivre had finally left him, there on the court that had brought him his glory and fulfilled his potential as the most gifted tennis player the sport has seen. It was a sad moment.

So, perhaps it is fitting that on the last day of July in the sweltering heat of Cincinnati, home of the Bengals and Reds, the champion of cool and control went down in defeat to a player he’d never lost to before, the big man who brings the heat on serve after serve, 6’10” Karlovic—the same man whose 35 aces could not pierce the armor of Nadal just a month earlier on grass. Federer’s loss to Karlovic symbolically ushers in the august of this champion’s Hall of Fame career.

A champion’s time is limited in sport, and in tennis that window is becoming increasingly narrow. It is no longer a given, as it was just a few short months ago, that Federer will surpass Pete Sampras’s Grand Slam title count. Federer won his first Slam title just shy of 22; and at 27 he may have won his last.

It is the natural order of things: the guiding light from a star fades as the searing heat of the sun ascends to take its place. Nadal’s sun has risen. The question is: how long will it burn?


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