Just one more backhand, Marat!

Marat Safin bids farewell after announcing his retirement in 2009.

The man was Russia’s own Molotov Cocktail. His racket looked like an extension of his boulder-like forearm. His racket abuse made Marcos Baghdatis’ rampage a year back look like the tantrums of a newbie amateur. Marat Safin was packaged entertainment in every inch of his six and a half foot frame. Right from his walk, which made his side of the court morph into the lair of Russian mafia, to the way he jokingly winked his way through peoples’ hearts, he left his mark on the game.

‘Genius’ today is a very overused term. Our generation is used to sticking the label on any person who shakes hands with success.  People have problems using it as an adjective to those who never made it. Marat never made a monopoly of the tennis world the way someone like a Sampras or Federer did. He was far too erratic. He would outclass a top 10 player effortlessly on one day, and then fall to an unseeded nobody the next.

People would never even think of including Marat in a list of the best players of all time. The definition of ‘greatest ever’ has always been nailed together with the player’s overall stack of achievements after he hangs up his shoes. Could the greatest ever also mean a player who, at his peak, would have been untouched? Such a list would require a tweak from the usual names.

Marat, to me, would belong on top of that list. I know I’d get flak from a lot of fans about the ridiculousness of not giving that spot to a Laver, a Federer or a Sampras but I say this after a lot of thought. When Safin was at his best, and I mean his absolute best, nothing could stand in front of his groundstrokes.

He’d almost slow the ball down getting in position to hit it, his shoulder would lower like a rifle unloading and then the ball would fly with that resounding trademark ‘thud’, like a sick trajectory. THAT Safin was a nightmare to any opponent – right from No.1 to No.999 – because you knew he was going to win.

Marat blasted into tennis super-stardom like a true Russian. USA vs Russia in the US Open final. Most fail to understand the amount of  drama associated such a lineup. Coupled with the fact that the crowd at Flushing Meadows can make a player from a country the Stars and Stripes have an issue with wet himself, the match should have been a simple formality for any American. Just adding to the mentioned betting pointers that the American player was Pete Sampras, the match should have been as easy as ordering fries from a McDonalds outlet.

The great Pete Sampras and Safin share a lighter moment during an exhibition game in 2011.

Marat coolly cut through this logic and thrashed Sampras in three sets to win his first Slam.

His second Slam quest should have ended with his semi-final match against Roger Federer. In 2005, Federer had been in imperious form; he would lose just 4 matches all year. The match remains arguably one of the finest matches in the Open era as far as the quality of tennis is concerned. Federer tried to save a match point with a tweener, but in the end, Safin showed the maestro the exit. This was exactly a year after an inspired Federer had beaten Marat in Melbourne. Safin went on to outclass home favourite Lleyton Hewitt to win his only Australian Open.

It was surprising that he failed to win another title after that run.

Something just happened to the giant. He began his journey down a road which seemed impossible to trudge up again. We had brief spells of vintage shot making from him, but never the form that had entertained audiences for years before that.

I’ve always believed that there is an entire subset of players who remained underachievers because of a number of reasons. Some, like Hewitt, peaked at the wrong time. I shudder to imagine what Agassi, for example, would have accomplished had he been as regimented a worker as Nadal. A few can never get over the turmoil of mental pressure while playing.

There’s a famous video of the Hamburg Masters, where Federer’s and Safin’s racket smashes have been actually compared on a split screen. Legend has it that Federer transformed into the ice-man he is today after watching a rerun of the same video. The question of ‘what if’ is always a tricky one to consider. Would Safin have been in the top five even today if he had managed to calm the monsters in his head?

One of Safin’s best off -court rants went something like this,“I’m not fighting with myself. Oh, my God. That’s how I am. You know, the story of the hippo? The hippo comes to the monkey and said, listen, I’m not a hippo. So, he paint himself like a zebra. He said but he’s still a hippo. He said but look at you, you’re painted like a zebra but you are a hippo. So then he goes, you know, like I want be a little parrot. So, he put the colours on him and he comes to the monkey and said but, sorry, you are a hippo. So, in the end, you know, he comes and said I’m happy to be a hippo. This is who I am. So, I have to be who I am and he’s happy being a hippo.”

He might have been happy to be a hippo. But I distinctly believe Safin didn’t realise that his place belonged on top of the food chain. He will always remain in our hearts as the brazen, handsome man whose backhand would end a discussion, if not his about-to-be-smashed racket.