Fedal - An ode to a legacy
644 days after remaining idle, the meter has ticked on.
The scoreline that has haunted many a Federer fan over the years has changed, although only to a slightly less embarrassing position. But that is no longer the point after this match. In a game that is as physically draining as it is pleasing to the eye, where every point is a duel just without bloodshed, the Fedal stands apart. In terms of the numbers, you wouldn’t think of it as a rivalry, with Nadal most certainly being the dominant force.
Following Federer’s three-set victory over Nadal at the finals in Basel yesterday, it now reads 23-11. It was their first meeting since the Australian Open last year, when Nadal ousted Federer in the semi-finals.
Let us take all the statistics from the game and throw it out through the window. Because a Fedal just can’t be limited by numbers. Not that it can’t be, it shouldn’t be. With a rivalry that has extended over a decade, right from the Miami Masters of 2004 to the very recent Swiss Indoors of 2015, it deserves to be described with every synonym for greatness
On one hand, we have Federer – the wizard. With an array of shots that can bamboozle the average viewer and tennis pundits alike, this magician has withstood the test of time. In an age of serve-bots and over-enthusiastic athletes, Federer stands apart. With no muscle in his body moving more than required, not a single inch of space covered than absolutely necessary, he has proved that simplicity might just be the ultimate sophistication.
The very sight of him unleashing that elegant single handed backhand is enough to understand that this is not the guy you would want to go up against. And most importantly, the temperament. No racquet smashes. No angry grunts. No on-court ramblings after an unforced error. Hell, he sometimes leaves you wondering if he even perspires like normal humans. Swiss precision has never been this precise.
On the other hand, there is Nadal – the warrior. If this was a movie, Rafa would be the hero who wins the fight at the end of the movie after going 5 rounds against the favourite. If Roger never let a sweat drop hit the ground, Rafa thrived on letting every of his touch the dirt. Not that he didn’t have skill.
It was such that he didn’t need to have skill. His perseverance overshadowed every other feature of his. If the ball was on his side of the net, Nadal would pick it up. It was that simple to him. It didn’t matter to him if the ball was close to a second bounce. His job was to reach it and that, he always did.
Armed with a topspin and a will that simply will not bend, he is every player’s nightmare. When his fist pumped up, you knew he had earned it. Every grunt of his was a war-cry. What more could you expect from a man from a country that fights bulls for fun?
When these two starkly contradicting forces meet, it is only natural that they put up a good show. And boy, were they good at putting up one! One like a gladiator and the other like a ballet dancer, they met each other shot for shot.
Every drop was picked up. Every lob was smashed. Every slice was returned with some more spin added to it. Every yard of the court was covered, with one running frantically as if his life depended on it and the other in an unhurried manner like he had all the time in the world.
If this were football, they would have made a great team. They understood the other’s game perfectly. They knew where the other would be, even without looking. But sadly, in this sport, it was a handicap. With age on his side and a dogged determination, Nadal had always been immune to Federer’s aura of invinciblility. He was always more than a handful to Federer.
And why? Speculations are plenty. And just speculations they shall remain. Maybe it was just the gods having some fun whilst intertwining their fates.
With the passage of time, with Federer retaining his boyish looks and his vintage quality, Nadal’s knees aren’t the same anymore. There was always the risk of them giving out under the tenuous work they were being put into. And without their supernatural durability during games, Nadal could no longer be the force he once was.
He still wants to do it. The perseverance is still there in his eyes. It will always be there. While Federer has dismissed lesser fancied opponents in a manner of disdain, Nadal has found it difficult to give up his gladiator-esque play. He likes to see the fight. He wants to see the fight.
And that has always been his strength as well as his weakness.
A man can only be stretched so much. The arrival of Djokovic, Murray, Wawrinka and several others has shifted the focus from the men who were once the giants of men’s tennis and their much fabled rivalry. Gone are the days when a Fedal final in a tournament was inevitable. It was only a question of who dropped fewer sets before reaching the final.
But not anymore. With new stars springing almost every tournament, upsets have become part of the lifestyle. The monarchs have been brought down and a democracy is slowly springing into place (although a certain king from Serbia is too adamant and too powerful to give up).
And yet, a Fedal now is everything a Fedal once was.
The cheering. The applauding. The impending heartbreak. The bittersweet moment after the game when you don’t know if you should be happy for the victor or sorry for the well-fought loser. Fedfans, with their air of snobby sophistication, watching their guy at work like a surgeon. Rafans, with their hands covering their eyes, as Rafa starts a sprint from one corner of the court to another.
Although at the end, you don’t care who won. You just go home significantly happier than you were before. A Fedal isn’t the numbers. It isn’t bragging rights as to who is the better player. It is not something that one can define. To define is to limit. It is something that one can only feel. And once you have really felt it, you will want to keep coming back to it.
Here’s to hoping we have many more Fedals next year. And before you sleep tonight, don’t forget to thank the gods for Fedal.