Before Roland Garros ’13, there was only one name on people’s lips regarding the question of who could prevent Rafael Nadal from winning the tournament: Novak Djokovic. When the draw was made and the two were pitted to meet each other in the semi-finals, those same lips said it was the final before the final, the match of the tournament. For now, for we still have to see the final, those lips are, arguably, right.
One wonders if Nadal is a practitioner of the dark arts for the conditions the match was played in could not have suited him better: 28 degrees, not a cloud in the sky; the court was dry, the balls bouncing high. He broke Djokovic in the middle of the first set, his forehand proving to be the weapon most on fire. Nadal steamed ahead, breaking early in the second set, too, in what was a masterful display by the seven time champion.
Novak Djokovic has his own mastery, too. He is a master of comebacks. No matter how down, he is never out. After his coach gestured him to follow through further on his shots, he did just that, the improved technique adding fuel to his fightback. Finding form on his own forehand, the Serbian broke back. He then broke again and successfully served for the set. A set all, both men playing well, the drama ahead looked assured.
The drama was closer than we anticipated. Early in the third set, on a break point for Nadal, a Djokovic cross-court backhand is called long by the umpire who, along with a close-by Nadal, sees marks which hawk-eye shows are not there. Nadal is awarded the break and runs away with the set 6-1 as Djokovic deflates, the air out of his just pumped up chest fizzling out. Let down it seems by the pinprick of questionable officiating, his play becomes as passive and hopeless as Nadal could have dared to magic up.
In the fourth set, 6-5, Nadal serving for the match, the winds pick up, and Djokovic begins to inflate again, his back being against the wall pumping him up. The Serbian breaks a Nadal struggling with both serving into the wind and with an opponent who seems to have conjured up the Nadal-beating Djokovic in Monte Carlo. In the tiebreak, Djokovic, nailing forehand after forehand, breaking down the Nadal backhand, plays the kind of tennis he should have done from the beginning, to win the breaker and take the match into a decider.
Djokovic breaks early in the fifth. Nadal breaks back. Djokovic breaks again. The drama is escalating. At 4-3, Djokovic serving, it peaks. Djokovic retrieves a drop shot only to fall at the net, his racket touching it before the ball has bounced twice. Nadal points out the breaking of this rule. Djokovic argues with the umpire that the ball was already out the court. The umpire though has studied the rule book more closely. He does not see for the illusions Djokovic attempts to cast and gives Nadal the point. Nadal goes on to break back.
Service games are held and three times Djokovic serves successfully to stay in the match. At 7-8, after being informed that his request for the courts to be watered down is not going to happen, Djokovic falters, the wall he is up against finally seeming to hard to climb. A set that had been played at a high level, Nadal’s forehand as strong as ever, Djokovic at his aggressive best, ends on a dud game. Djokovic errors, a netted smash, one of a few too many in the match, while other errors are produced under the onslaught of a Nadal playing in his element, and the Spaniard breaks him to love to win the match.
The match was a microcosm of sport, Nadal claimed in his post-match interview. Just like in Australian ’12, the momentum had swung back and forth, and the outcome could have gone either way. Back then it was Djokovic, today it was him. Humble words. That may have been true in Melbourne but on a court where Nadal has lost only once in his career to a man who hit him off the court from first ball to last the chances of Nadal losing to a game plan less than that are far less than his modesty allows him to admit. No doubt he will compete against Ferrer as if the many lips that spill words of his inevitable victory are the babblings of madmen. Only Ferrer, though, can prove that to be the case. A trip to the local sorcerer, some sips from a potion, and who knows what magic the first ranked Spaniard Ferrer can conjure up. It is sport after all, as Nadal so keenly proclaims, and as shown in this match between Nadal and Djokovic, spells and trickery can conjure up some mighty magical moments.
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