Andy Murray and David Ferrer produce 'beautiful' ugly tennis in Miami final

What do you get when you pit two of the best returners in the world, who also happen to be two of the best counterpunchers/movers in the world, against each other? The answer threatened to reveal itself for brief periods in the first two sets of the Miami final between Andy Murray and David Ferrer, but it was only in the third set that it hit us with its full brute force. As the two men scrapped and scrambled to try and get every single ball back in play, we were treated to a staggering six consecutive breaks of serve at the start of the decider. Two more breaks followed before the set was done, one of which came with Murray serving for the match, and by the time we got to the tiebreaker we had reached the classic can’t-watch-anymore-yet-can’t-look-away situation. Both Murray and Ferrer seemed to have reached the absolute end of their tether, and it was just as well that the breaker was a relatively drama-free affair (except for the occasional 30-shot rally, of course; the keyword here is ‘relatively’). Murray won it 7-1, and with it the match, but this match was almost as much about the loser as it was about the winner.

This was never going to be a slam-bang contest of serve bombs and groundstroke missiles. Murray and Ferrer, along with the other members of the Top 5, have taken baseline defense to such a high level that even the fastest serve bomb isn’t a bomb anymore, and even the fiercest groundstroke missile can be retrieved with ease. At the start of the match, it was Ferrer who thoroughly out-defended his opponent, as a listless Murray struggled to find the court on regulation rally shots. Murray made double faults, hit routine backhands long, buried potentially point-ending forehands into the net, and generally looked like he’d rather be anywhere but on the court. Ferrer, never one to be asked twice, was happy to capitalize on his opponent’s misdeeds and ran off to a 5-0 lead, which he rode to win the set 6-2 despite giving one of the breaks back.

Murray’s morose mood continued into the second set, but Ferrer’s consistency did not. He had started the match with a clear game plan – to take charge of points with his forehand, and remain steady irrespective of how many tantrums or clever variations Murray threw at him. But with the finish line in sight, the Spaniard did what he’s been guilty of doing several times in his career: get tight. Now it was him making the untimely errors, and Murray capitalizing on them to make his comeback into the match. And as you’d expect, with victory no longer within striking distance, Ferrer’s unerring precision returned, and he started making Murray’s life incredibly difficult during the Scot’s service games. Sure enough, the break was retrieved in the eighth game of the set, and the score was evened at 4-4. With both men scampering along the baseline to extend points beyond 20 shots on a regular basis, the winners and quick holds all but dried up. Murray’s attempts to change the pace and tone of the rallies with sliced backhands and loopy forehands had no effect whatsoever on Ferrer’s solid shot-making; even overhead smashes failed to end the points. The match had ‘war of attrition’ written all over it, and you had to wonder whether either of them would be able to stand after it got over, let alone accept their trophies. Fortunately for Murray, though, the second set didn’t last as long as it promised: Ferrer stumbled again, and this time it would prove costly. He turned in a sloppy service game to hand the decisive break to Murray, who then served it out to pocket the set 6-4.

The battle had been won, but the war still raged on. Murray broke Ferrer to start the third set, and looked set to ride his momentum all the way to the championship. But with his back against the wall, Ferrer found his most back-breaking tennis yet again, and broke right back. Neither man seemed capable of missing a single return, and it came as no surprise that Murray broke once again to take a 2-1 lead. Surely this time the advantage would be a decisive one? Not quite: Ferrer punished Murray’s passive play in the next game and got the set back to even terms. Four service games, not a single hold. Was this a joke? If it was, it was about to get way funnier soon. The two exchanged two more breaks to bring things dead even at 3-3; finding an ace or a service winner amid the grinding mayhem seemed as difficult as getting Yanni to jam with Justin Bieber. When Ferrer finally held for a 4-3 lead, it was all anyone could do to keep from screaming ‘Hallelujah!’.

Strangely, as the two men repeatedly found the lines with their returns and struggled to get any kind of traction on their serves, you realized that the match had reached its peak. Sure, from a traditional standpoint, this had to be seen as ugly tennis; as we’ve been told over the years, not being able to hold your serve is one of the most cardinal sins a tennis player can commit. But in a perverse way, this kind of guerilla warfare has its own charm. Murray and Ferrer failed to put in the big serves, but they hardly ever failed to put in the big returns. They failed to put away short forehands, but they sprinted and leaped to put overhead smashes back in play. They failed to consistently step into the court and take charge of rallies, but they never failed to arch backwards and will the ball over the net, even when it seemed like a lost cause. This was ugly tennis, but it was some of the most compelling ugly tennis ever seen.

Of course, there was more drama in store as the two players huffed and puffed their way to the end. Murray served for the match at 5-4, but was, you guessed it, broken. He then served to stay in the match at 5-6, and went down a championship point. The Scot chose that precise moment to pull a Novak Djokovic, while Ferrer chose that moment to make his last, most critical blunder of the day. The two exchanged in yet another gruelling rally; Murray hit a couple of crushing inside-out forehands that Ferrer returned with no trouble at all, before the Scot changed direction to strike a blazing inside-in forehand that seemed dangerously close to being out. Right on cue, Ferrer stopped play (even though he had managed to return that shot too), and everyone’s heart was in their mouth as Hawkeye showed the ball arching lurching towards the baseline, with destiny riding on its trajectory. As the path ended, though, it became clear that the ball had brushed an inch of the baseline; just like that, Murray had averted disaster, and Ferrer had his career’s biggest victory snatched away from him.

There was still more hit-till-you-drop tennis to follow, culminating in a 28-shot rally at 4-1 in the tiebreaker that left Ferrer doubled over and gasping for breath. Murray knew his opponent only needed the knockout punch, and he duly delivered it, winning the next two points to claim his second Miami title, in the process leapfrogging Roger Federer to clinch the World No. 2 ranking. The Scot looked to the heavens, which is just as well considering how close he had come to defeat, while the deflated Ferrer looked the way Murray had at the start of the match: like he’d rather be anywhere but on the court.

Murray could be called lucky for having emerged the winner despite playing well below his best. On the other hand, Ferrer may be considered tragically ill-fated to have the trophy taken away from him despite getting so close to it, and despite executing his plans so effectively throughout the match. But credit has to be given to Murray who abandoned his passivity on the really crucial points and showed more courage in taking things in his own hands in those game-changing moments. That, more than any tennis shot played on the court, defines the strides that the two men, who both had career years in 2012, have made over the past year: when push comes to shove, Murray has learned to land the knockout punch, or at least attempt to land it, while Ferrer has learned to chug along longer and deeper into a match, but at the risk of losing it all if the opponent decides to throw caution to the wind.

On this day, it was Murray’s caution-abandoning that worked, while Ferrer was left to ruminate at the price he has had to repeatedly pay in his career for his relative lack of power and imagination. But it won’t always be this way, because every once in a while, that groundstroke on match point will land an inch outside the baseline instead of an inch inside it. And when that happens, Ferrer can brag about the merits of diligently chugging along irrespective of the score or the stage.

On this day, however, it is Murray’s turn to brag. As the new World No. 2, he has every right to.