WIMBLEDON, England — There will never be another scene quite like it, or another match, for that matter. Wimbledon closed down a 132-year era Sunday night with the greatest tennis match ever played.
That’s not just our opinion, but the measured view of Bud Collins and a half-dozen of the most experienced tennis writers in the world, all of them in a state of stunned admiration as they sat down to address their keyboards. They held fast to the John McEnroe-Bjorn Borg legend for 28 years, and hated to give it up, but Rafael Nadal’s 6-4, 6-4, 6-7 (5), 6-7 (8), 9-7 victory over Roger Federer set the standard of brilliance.
An innovative Centre Court roof, retractable and an answer to every rainstorm, will be in place next year — and not a moment too soon. It was so dark at 9:16 p.m., the moment Federer’s netted forehand ended this match, they couldn’t have played another game. But that only adds to the magic. Bared to the skies since 1877, the fabled venue seemed to take on a mind of its own, extending the last roofless Wimbledon until the last vestiges of light.
What a scene: Nadal flat on his back after four hours and 48 minutes of glory, the longest Wimbledon final in history, made nearly two hours longer by a pair of rain delays. Nadal propelling himself into the Friends Box (leave it to Rafa to take the most difficult route) and coming out of it with a Spanish flag. Nadal walking along the roof above the TV broadcasters to reach the Spanish royalty, Prince Felipe and Princess Letizia of Asturias, who made the very worthwhile journey to London. And then Nadal back on the court, in a swirl of flashbulbs, to celebrate the first Wimbledon men’s victory by a Spaniard since Manuel Santana in 1966.
Even for those who have closely followed Nadal’s career, it was difficult to grasp the breadth of his accomplishment. He should have been a broken man after those two spirit-crushing tiebreakers. Time after time, on crucial points, Federer rendered him helpless with punishing aces. Federer is “the best in the history,” as Nadal put it, and once his disappointment gives way to perspective, he’ll know he hit some of the most clutch shots ever witnessed.
“It’s hard for me to appreciate it right now,” Federer said afterward. “I can’t look at it as a feel-good thing. Probably later in life, I’ll be happy about the way I fought, the way it lived up to expectations. And congratulations to Rafa, a great competitor.”
It was altogether fitting that Borg was in the stands, bundled up against the rain and chill in the Royal Box. Nadal became the first man since Borg to win the French Open and Wimbledon consecutively (Borg did it three years in a row, 1978-80).
There’s no question that the 18-16 tiebreaker represented the most riveting episode in the sport’s history, as untouchable as Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak. The case for Federer-Nadal rests on its unrelenting tension, the sustained brilliance, the fact that neither man let a troubling moment get him down.
The thing about Nadal, separating him from most everyone in tennis, is that he fights harder than an angry pit bull. The fact that he might have choked, in sports parlance, didn’t occur to him. He came up with such a sensational shot at 7-7, a down-the-line forehand pass on the dead run, “I really thought it was over,” Federer admitted.
But that’s when Federer defined himself, answering that excruciating match-point pressure with the calmest of backhand winners, struck cleanly down the line. And as the match drew even, Federer raised the possibility of becoming the first man since Henri Cochet, in 1927, to come from two sets down to win a Wimbledon final.
When it came to the next match point, advantage Nadal, the dwindling light almost demanded a conclusion. Federer sent his fateful forehand into the net, and “that was the irony of it,” Collins said. “Here’s Federer with the best forehand the sport has ever seen, and he puts a routine ball into the net. But then, that’s the story of Nadal. He always makes you hit one more shot than you want to.”
So it’s on to the retractable-roof era, a development tinged with regret. There’s nothing in sports like a compelling Centre Court match in the fresh air of southeast England, whether it’s still, blustery or damp.
A succession of maddening rainouts and delays in recent years led to the roof. What I heard, from a tiny elf in the catacombs, is that once the roof is up, it will never rain again. In the wake of tennis’ greatest match, all things are possible.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
