Nadal knocks up Barcelona win number eight.

When Nicolas Amalgro broke Nadal twice to lead 3-0 in the Barcelona final, hopes were high that a match which had all the potential excitement of the drizzly Barcelona day might produce something more akin to the Barcelona climate typical of this time of year, sunny and sweat-drenched.

Perhaps this could be the type of match that we haven’t seen on Clay very often the last nine years, the kind of match that makes us watch sport in the first place; a match that surprises us and inspires us. An Amalgro win would certainly do this. In his nine meetings against Nadal, he has managed to win only a few sets. Such statistics were up against him, the psychological advantage such a head to head lead can have can win you matches alone, and Amalgro’s record against top players also suggested that an afternoon of sporting drama was unlikely.

We crossed our fingers, though. After all, this is why we watch tennis. For those moments such as when Coetzer beat Graf in Toronto ’96, or Canas drubbed Federer in Indian Wells ’07. Anything can happen on the day and now and then it does.

This was as good as any day as far as Amalgro was concerned. Wet clay and fluffy balls. The stuff that gives Nadal nightmares. But unfortunately, the rain cleared up, the court dried, and the Nadal nightmare, the one that has ruined the dreams of the likes of Federer and Amalgro the last nine years, was not going to go away.

What looked, but perhaps only to the blind, to be the much dreamed of makings of a thunderous shock soon developed into the admirable but repetitive display of the uber-formidable clay talent that is Rafael Nadal. As he broke back and then broke back again you could hear the sound of Amalgro’s spine sapping beneath the weight of that oh-so heavy forehand and that enormous trophy with the name Nadal engraved upon it no less than eight times.

As Nadal forged ahead 5-4 and as his forehand founds its mark and Amalgro’s low flat backhands bounced higher and into the hands of Nadal, a ninth time seemed likely.

Nadal took the first set 6-4 and then ran away with the second 6-3. The narrative we had been hoping for went untold. What we were told instead was the familiar story of arguably the greatest claycourter of all time winning once more on home soil in what he hopes to be another march to the Roland Garros title, but what those of us who keep watching sport for the beauty of its possibilities will wish to be an altogether different tale.