A season ago it was all different. The central question was simple. Who was greatest of all time — Sampras or Federer? But the withering effect of mononucleosis, the oh-so-slight aging of an icon, the ferocity of a bronze man/child, Rafa Nadal, and the rising tide of a generation of wannabes took their toll.
No, no — Federer is hardly a has-been. Far from it, the U.S. Open victor, even in decline, is far better than practically anyone who’s ever raised a racket. The man is still very much a power. But his four-year dynasty, the most imposing since Helen Wills in the ‘30s, is increasingly in the rear view mirror.
Instead a new question looms. Was Federer’s fabulous final against Nadal — Wimbledon’s singular “duel into dusk” — the greatest match of all time? After all, Sampras said it transcended the sport. John McEnroe claimed it was “the best match ever,” and Jon Wertheim said it “doubled as a four-hour, 48-minute infomercial for everything that is right about tennis — a festive display of grace, strength, speed, shotmaking and sportsmanship that crackled with electricity.”
But was it the best in tennis history? And, for that matter, what makes for the greatest matches, the greatest games in all of sport?
Like athletic genius, truly great games defy categorization. Yes, all deliver a compelling drama that defines and transcends sports, but beyond that, what are their common elements?
Of course, we know certain things. If a compelling game ends with an infamous, bonehead play, it’s hard to elevate it to true greatness. (Boston’s Bill Buckner allowing the trickler to slip through his legs; Buffalo Bill Scott Norwood kicking ‘wide right’ to lose the ‘91 Super Bowl; officials allowing the Russian hoops team to steal the ‘72 Olympic gold; Chris Webber calling a time out with none left to cost Michigan in the NCAA title and the worst fan ever, Steve “Blame it on…” Bartman, ushering in defeat for his beloved Cubs in the ‘03 playoffs.) Plus, we know naturally enough that all sports are NOT created equal. Pro hockey has had many a compelling game, like when the Boston Bruins won the ‘70 Stanley Cup on Bobby Orr’s diving goal. But its catalog of truly memorable confrontations is threadbare compared to boxing, with all its mano-a-mano world championships and mythic lads striving for redemption: Jack Johnson, Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Jake LaMotta, Sugar Ray Robinson, Rocky Marciano and Oscar de la Hoya. But it was one man with two names who was central to more captivating sporting events than any other. Cassius Clay’s shocking humiliation of menacing, old-school Sonny Liston in ‘64 opened the door for a whole new generation of athletes — Broadway Joe Namath, John McEnroe, Dennis Rodman etc. — who were in-your-face loose canons who forged their own new “cult of personality” brands.
But never mind. Historians insist that Clay’s pummeling of Liston doesn’t even measure up to Ali’s fabled rivalry with Joe Frazier, which gave us Ali-Frazier I in Madison Square Garden and the “Thriller in Manila”.
As for rivalries themselves — Lakers-Celtics, Yankees-Red Sox, Bears-Packers — they contribute to some, but surprisingly not that many great games. And the greatest match in arguably the greatest individual rivalry in all of sports — Chris Evert’s 6-3, 6-7, 7-5 win over Martina Navratilova in the ‘85 French Open final — doesn’t make it into the top-five list of all-time great tennis matches. Similarly, fabled venues — Yankee Stadium, Madison Square Garden, Lambeau Field, Augusta National — contribute to the honor roll of great games, but they hardly dominate. (See feature on page 10.)
For starters, many premier events (the Olympics, the Super Bowl, the NCAA Final Four hoops, Golf’s Four Majors and the World, Davis and Ryder Cups) are nomadic affairs. So it’s hardly surprising that Roger Bannister broke the four-minute mile in Oxford, England; that elfin Soviet gymnast Olga Korbut gained instantaneous fame for herself and her sport after her daring routines at the ‘68 Mexico City Olympics; or that one of soccer’s greatest moments — Argentinian Maradona’s “Hand of God” winner in the ‘86 World Cup final also came in Mexico City.
Great games sometimes may entail streaks that are gained or lost — think UCLA hoops or DiMaggio, Maris, Aaron, McGuire or even Bonds (if you’re not steroid-resistant). Or they can be all about dominant or record-breaking performances: Wilt Chamberlain scored 100 points before just 4,124 fans in Hershey, Pa., in ‘62, Secretariat’s “Moment of Eternity” came in ‘73, when he won the Belmont by 31 lengths and Bob Beamon’s Olympic long jump stunned the world in ‘68.
Sometimes a certain poetic justice prevails, an existential truth: France wins soccer’s ‘98 World Cup on French soil or Ted Williams hits a homer in his last at bat at Fenway.
Memorable games can entail a certain ominous, take-no-prisoners political or cultural backstory.
No politician tried to manipulate sports more than Hitler. He not only called German tennis star Baron Gottfried von Cramm before a critical Davis Cup match against American Don Budge at Wimbledon in ‘37, he used the ‘36 knockout of African-American Joe Louis by Max Schmeling to further his myth of Aryan superiority. Two years later, Hitler abruptly ended the radio broadcast of the re-match as Louis scored his first of many first round knockdowns en route to quick victory. Such humiliation was hardly new for the German dictator. At the ‘36 Berlin Games, Jesse Owens bolted to four gold medals, shattering Hitler’s propaganda fantasies.
After the Nazi demise, the Cold War produced countless battles on fields and ice, water and snow, but none more poignant than the “Blood in the Water” water polo grudge match in ‘56, when, just after Soviet tanks repressed a valiant Hungarian uprising, Hungary faced the mighty Soviets in the Olympics. Unlike in Budapest, they prevailed, but not before a Soviet player belted a Hungarian in the eye and blood spilled into a Melbourne pool.
Ultimately, the most notable Soviet-American confrontation was the magical “Do You Believe In Miracles” triumph of no-name college hockey players and assorted rejects over a mighty, professional, and battle-tested Soviet team that, just two weeks before, had thumped the dreamy American kids 10-3. Still, despite taking just 16 shots, destiny’s darlings (who forgot to read the script) came from behind to win 4-3. Do You Believe in Miracles? Yes.
Simultaneously, with the Cold War the contentious struggle for Civil Rights yielded many a memorable sports moment: Jackie Robinson’s emergence in ‘47, the triumph of Texas Western’s all-black line-up over Adolpf Rupp’s all-white Kentucky team in the ‘66 NCAA final, the proud defiant black power salutes from the ‘68 Olympic medal stand by Tommie Smith and John Carlos and the heady, elegant, yet unambiguous triumphs of Arthur Ashe at Wimbledon and the U.S. Open.
Sports has not only been used as a potent vehicle of protest, it’s been a vehicle of social triumph and uplift.
Some would claim little Seabiscuit’s fabled ‘38 Match Race triumph over mighty War Admiral bolstered an American working class still battered by the Depression. Billie Jean King’s ‘73 triumph over the unrepentant male chauvinist Bobby Riggs re-tooled gender realities in ballparks, workplaces, kitchens and bedrooms.
Nelson Mandela, who had just emerged from 27 years in jail to peacefully bring down South Afica’s longstanding apartheid regime, made a well-orchestrated appearance at the ‘95 Rugby World Cup in Johannesburg wearing a South African jersey. It was an adept symbolic move that left the crowd chanting “Nel-son, Nel-son” and engendered a reconciliation and harmony that took all the starch out of a pending white counter-insurgency.
But arguably no other sporting event has had more impact than the meticulously planned journey by an American ping-pong team to long-isolated China in ‘71, an initiative that led to Nixon’s visit and a diplomatic thaw whose effect we see to this day in every aisle of every Wal-Mart in the land.
Every sports devotee has his or her own narrative when it comes to the definitive sports events they’ve seen or been touched by. For me, I recall listening to New York Yankee Don Larsen’s perfect game being broadcast on a Zenith radio the size of a small boat on the playground of my grade school. To this day, I still find myself marking triumphant moments, like some wide-eyed kid, by reciting the breathless, celebratory call (“THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT! THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT! THE GIANTS WIN… “) Russ Hodges offered after Bobby Thompson blasted “The Shot Heard ‘Round The World” — a Polo Grounds home run which instantly propelled the ‘51 New York Giants past their dreaded foe, the Brooklyn Dodgers and into the World Series.
Yes, I was there on the 15-yard line, Row Q, when Cal shocked seemingly victorious Stanford with their more-than-inventive, five-lateral “Band Play” and I was blessed to be front and almost center at what many consider the greatest match in tennis history, the Nadal-Federer final.
Except for any cultural or political significance, the sublime final gets high marks in almost every category I use to judge great games.
1. BUILD-UP: The Wimbledon final had little of the hype of an Ali fight or the Jets vs. Colts in Super Bowl III, but still there was plenty of buzz. Pat Cash predicted it “could be one of the great matches of all time” and John McEnroe joked that to equal what was at stake we’d have “to go back to 1886 when Geronimo was surrendering and there were just 10 people, including Geronimo’s cousin, in the [Wimbledon] draw.” (B+)
2. RIVARLRY: Hot vs. cool, flash and blast vs. grace and calm, young Mediterrean pirate vs. Alpine prince, lefty vs. righty, this ascending conflict is the game’s best since Agassi vs. Sampras. (A)
3. SETTING: Centre Court, the Cathedral of tennis, rarely fails to deliver. Many claim it’s the best venue in sports. (A+)
4. POLITICAL/CULTURAL IMPACT: Precious little. (D-)
5. STAKES: While seeking a record sixth straight Wimbledon, Federer hopes to sustain his record 65-match grass-court streak and to erase the humiliation of his mauling by Nadal at the French Open. Rafa not only hopes to dethrone Fed to avenge his ‘06 and ‘07 losses, he hopes to become the first player since Borg to win the French and Wimby back-to-back. (A)
6. IMPACT ON SPORT: The Wimby final didn’t have nearly the impact of the King-Riggs “Battle of the Sexes” or even Borg-McEnroe. Still, as Tom Perrotta noted, “One match, of course, can’t cure a sport that has been starved and abused for years…[still] this match…ought to do a lot to dispel many myths about tennis that have persisted for years.” (A-)
7. LEVEL OF PLAY: Some great confrontations are sloppy affairs, like the ‘58 N.Y. Giants vs. Baltimore Colts ‘Greatest Game Ever Played.’ But, Nadal and Fed are simply the best in tennis and, unlike their Paris final, both were nearly at the top of their games. (A)
8. GRIT ‘N GRACE: Many a great game is rich with athletic grace (think Michael Jordan) or is defined by grit: Tiger winning this year’s Open with a bum leg; Knick Willis Reed hobbling on-court to inspire the ‘70 Knicks; crippled Kirk Gibson blasting a limp-off homer in the ‘88 World Series opener; Jordan overcoming the flu in the ‘97 NBA final against Utah; or injured Kerri Strug landing a majestic one-foot landing at the ‘96 Olympics.
The Wimbledon final soared with grace. Poetic and serene Federer again left us breathless and both players displayed ample grit as they overcame rain delays, bad bounces, funky flubs, bad spells, seeming defeat and the relentless march of darkness. (B+)
9. DRAMA: Thrust and parry, sublime shot-making, in-a-flash momentum shifts: this match had everything. And all the while the light faded. Mad dashes, bold defense-to-offense transitions, near whiffs and brain-cramp blunders. And all the while the light faded. Surviving break points and psychological mine fields, both players rose to unleash brave and beautiful strokes: the match a tapestry, rich and nuanced.
(A+)
10. THE WOW FACTOR: A certain unmistakable jolt, a beyond-the-drone sizzle defines our best games. “The Greatest Game Ever Played” — the ‘58 Giants-Colts NFL Championship — was pro football’s coming out party, a watershed moment that thrust the sport into our national psyche. Christian Laettner’s ‘92 turn-around jumper for Duke at the buzzer; the “Band Play” “the Music City Miracle,” and Doug Flutie’s “Hail Mary” heave were all incredible last minute wonders. Still, Bobby Thompson’s “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” remains a classic in a time-warp all its own and the story line of the greatest game which arguably has ever played, the David slays Goliath triumph of America’s rag-tag hockey team over the Soviets, was indeed “A Miracle on Ice.”
The magic of last year’s Wimbledon was more subtle and complex. So three hours after the confrontation I returned to my seat in the press box to soak it in and make sense of the arena and its game.
“Once puffy clouds,” I noted, “now have given way to a rose darkness. The roars of the packed throng are but echoes. Only the clangs of the cleaning crew above Exit 23 break the quiet…Amidst the emptiness, the umpire’s chair — lonely and abandoned — stands as the sole witness to what was. Now, the night wind whirls, whispering, of an island boy with simple tastes and an unshakeable will who, armed with a dipping forehand, pursued an untenable dream to triumph.
“But now the court lies flat and silent: its turf tattered, its job complete. For on this night it has enriched us with memory. Memory of the greatest happening this game has ever offered, a moment still and compelling; a riveting triumph in the dusk, sublime and sweet, sport at its best — a transcendent wonder.”
(A+)
