Wimbledon needs dash of Nadal

Bruce Jenkins
San Francisco Chronicle
19 June, 2005

The French Open seedings were wrong from the start. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal had been on a collision course for weeks, crafting an elitist's category to themselves on the clay courts of Europe. Even if tournament organizers couldn't finesse the 1-and-2 seedings, they should have kept the two on opposite sides of the draw, allowing for the possibility of a dream final.

The sport of tennis has reached that point. Throughout America, people not only question the relevance of the French Open -- a tournament never won by John McEnroe, Jimmy Connors or Pete Sampras -- they've lost touch with the sport altogether. Andy Roddick's ascent has stalled, the rest of the American men are second-tier types, and the women's game has become the province of wondrous international talent.

Has the game truly suffered? Not in the purists' minds. Not for anyone who watched the Federer-Nadal semifinal at the French. It wasn't the No. 1- ranked Federer at his best, but it was a coming-out festival for Nadal, making his championship performance (against Argentina's Mariano Puerta) a certainty before it began. Puerta staged a valiant battle, but in the realm of television ratings and worldwide intrigue, it's a shame the tournament peaked too soon.

Now the grass courts are upon us. Wimbledon begins Monday, and the clay- court season is such a distant memory, it's as if a bunch of lacrosse athletes moved on to ice hockey. The disparity is just that great. Nadal, toast of the sporting world during those two weeks in Paris, is just another notable player at the All England Lawn Tennis Club.

From the artistry of Roland Garros, players sliding elegantly and engaging opponents in long, thoughtful rallies, we suddenly enter the realm of Ivo Karlovic, Wayne Arthurs, Mario Ancic and other vaguely familiar threats with serve-and-volley thunder. Wimbledon is where Sampras went from a French Open bum to one of the three or four greatest players of all time. It's where McEnroe and Boris Becker etched indelible reputations while still in their teens. It's also where, in the grand tradition of Gustavo Kuerten and Marcelo Rios, the usual spate of clay-court specialists (including Carlos Moya and Gaston Gaudio) have pulled their predictable withdrawals.

Will there be some kind of crossover miracle for Nadal? Can he clean the red clay off his shoes, ditch the neon shirts and dominate on unfamiliar ground? Even Nadal has his doubts. "I cannot challenge for the title -- the truth is the truth," he said after the French. But don't discount his fierce desire to make a mark. As much as Wimbledon will center on the women's game -- defending champion Maria Sharapova, the Williams sisters, the continuing comeback stories of Kim Clijsters and Justine Henin-Hardenne, top seed Lindsay Davenport -- Nadal's transition to grass could be the most fascinating story.

There is precedent for what Nadal is trying to accomplish. Just when you think Wimbledon completely eliminates the spectacle of baseline obsession, along comes Bjorn Borg to win it five years in a row from 1976-80. Andre Agassi, who once shamelessly disrespected the tournament, cried a champion's tears in 1992. Steffi Graf dominated Wimbledon without bothering to rush the net, and Conchita Martinez, the very essence of stay-back tedium, won the championship in '94.

Moreover, Nadal is a completely different breed than the fluid, self- contained Spaniards who came before him. One of his paternal uncles is Miguel Angel Nadal, the rugged "Beast of Barcelona" who starred on many Spanish national soccer teams, and Rafael had his mind on a soccer career until he was 12. The way he celebrates his magnificence with a variety of leaps, dances and fist-pumps, you would think he just scored a hooking, 40-yard goal in a World Cup final. He's an animal out there, completely wild and uninhibited, and he'll play the swordfight game (at the net) without hesitation. While the great Chris Evert famously scoffed that "no point is worth falling down over," Nadal is willing to make 40 all-out dives in a single match, if that's what it takes.

As such, he's the most interesting player to come along in years. He has all of Lleyton Hewitt's fire, but none of the classless behavior so insulting to the opposition. He's young and forceful, but displaying more flair and crowd appeal than Roddick (in those absurd baseball caps) will ever possess. Nadal has the most ripped upper body in tennis since ...well, since Martina Navratilova or Serena Williams, because no great player ever unveiled such biceps on the male side. Wimbledon is likely to force predominantly white shirts into his wardrobe, but Nadal will be free to wear those white capri pants, suggesting 8-millimeter home movies of a clam-digging expedition to the seashore. Utterly ridiculous in a sporting context, those pants somehow look dashing and dangerous on Nadal.

"I don't think you'd see me in those pants, but it's OK," Roddick said earlier this year. "I mean, whatever gets people talking -- good, bad or ugly. If people are talking about tennis, that's a good thing."

It seemed something of a shock when Nadal, then 18, beat Roddick during Spain's Davis Cup triumph over the United States last December on clay. In retrospect, it makes sense. Nadal went on to dominate the clay-court circuit, and he had a 24-match winning streak until his loss to Alexander Waske (ranked 147th) in the first round of the grass-court tournament in Halle, Germany, two weeks ago. (Citing fatigue in the wake of Roland Garros, Nadal skipped last week's event in Den Bosch, Netherlands, to get fully rested.)

If Nadal were to get a rematch with Federer, it would mean both men reached the Wimbledon final. The prospect seems likely in Federer's case, but Nadal has the coldly efficient David Nalbandian in his quarter of the draw, with Roddick a looming possibility in the semifinals. The best news is that Nadal isn't avoiding Wimbledon, like so many of his European counterparts. He wants it badly. The feeling is mutual.


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