When a player wins a coin toss and asks his opponent to serve first, he is, essentially, challenging the man across the net. In that one decision, a player says several things. "Your serve isn't that good, and I know it," is one. "You know it, too," is another. Perhaps the most important one is, "I'm going to jump all over you from the start."
Andy Murray put this challenge to Rafael Nadal yesterday. It was an attempt to break Nadal's rhythm (Nadal usually lets his opponents serve) and to tell the Spaniard that Murray planned on seizing control of the match early on. "This is going to be played on my terms." At least, that was the intended message. Nadal wasn't listening. Murray never challenged him again.
It amazed me that he didn't. Murray has played quite well this tournament and he absorbed a lot of firepower from Richard Gasquet on Monday before staging a comeback from two sets down. He's a resourceful and creative player, maybe the second-most creative player in the game behind Federer (how's that for a compliment?) and creativity has been a good antidote to Nadal's consistency (search Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, January 24, 2008, Melbourne, Australia, on Google, or if you still prefer the physical dictionary, look at the entry under "drubbing"). Better still, Murray has used his variety and offensive skills to good effect against Nadal. When they met at the Australian Open in 2007, Murray controlled most of the match before wilting down the stretch. He served and volleyed successfully. He punished Nadal's serve. He forced Nadal to hit short forehands and took control of rallies.
Going into yesterday's match, I didn’t think Murray would be strong enough or steady enough to sustain the sort of attack necessary to win three sets from Nadal, who is a better player than he was in Melbourne last year and also more comfortable on grass. But I didn't think Mr. Muscles, as a few local papers began to call the bicep-flexing Scot after the Gasquet match, would look meek. When you challenge your opponent to serve first and proceed to win 10 points against serve the entire match, you've, um, underestimated the task at hand.
I don't mean to say that Murray took Nadal lightly, or that he expected an easy match. Far from it. The point here is that all the compliments given to Nadal lately, all the praise about the improvements he has made in his game and his supreme powers of concentration, don't do justice to how well he is playing at the moment. Murray, despite expecting a lot, was dazzled, especially by Nadal's forehand.
"I mean, he just swings his arm, I mean, so hard at the ball," Murray said. "When you watch Federer play it looks like he's, you know, sort of effortless power. When you see Nadal, and you actually see how fast he moves the racquet through the air and the amount of spin and speed that he generates. Yeah, I think for sure…his forehand is the heaviest shot in tennis."
Nadal has polished every aspect of his game the last few years: He talks about this a lot (because we reporters ask him about it a lot), and we write about it a lot (because he answers). But Murray's remarks brought home to me something to which I hadn't given much thought: Of all the things Nadal has improved--his serve, his volley, his backhand, his court positioning--he has improved his forehand the most. It has long been his best shot and it has always been a fearsome shot. But it's a lot better now than it was a few years ago. He hits the ball deeper into the court, often within inches of the baseline. He hits the ball harder. Yet he hasn't sacrificed accuracy or consistency or spin. Murray put it this way: "He's just hitting the ball lower over the net with the same amount of spin. You know, so it's shooting through the court a bit more, which makes it harder."
Roger Federer, I think almost everyone would agree, has had the best forehand in tennis for the last four years. It's a prettier shot than Nadal's (as Murray suggested), it's technically superior (less severe grip, more fluid, more consistent weight distribution). Until recently, it was also more consistently a weapon (Nadal's match against James Blake at the U.S. Open a few years ago showed how vulnerable his forehand could be if he played too defensively). Right now, though, Nadal's forehand is as good as Federer's and perhaps better (one clear advantage is he is less prone to errors). And I'm not just basing this on Wimbledon. The chief reason Nadal so convincingly beat everyone at the French Open, especially Federer in the final, was his willingness to play aggressively on the forehand side, despite having every right to lapse into the more defensive-minded play that won him three previous titles at Roland Garros. Nadal didn't need to improve to win the French Open again, and he certainly didn't need to play a different style. It takes courage to change something that already works, but Nadal has tinkered with his forehand in hopes that it can help him win more often elsewhere. It's working out nicely, wouldn't you say?
If you had to vote, would you say Federer still owns the forehand, or has Nadal passed him? Chat (Nicely! No ad hominem attacks, please!) below and I'll be back later with answers to some (most, but not all) of the questions you asked me in one of my earlier posts.
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