By Bill Simons
In 1824, a deaf and diminished Vienna composer, Ludwig van Beethoven, defied orthodoxy and wrote his Ninth Symphony.
One hundred and ninety years later, Spain’s Rafa Nadal, deaf to a chorus of critics who insisted his game was diminished—and at last having overcome his own maladies—used his singular forehand, like a baton, to orchestrate Rafa’s Ninth, his ninth French Open title.
While not exactly a sublime performance, it got the job done. Of course, Beethoven’s Ninth was something else. Many claim it is the greatest piece of music ever written. It’s said to be a universal human anthem that reveals our deepest feeling. A kind of “We Shall Overcome” on steroids, which is often present when humanity becomes embattled: think Berlin Wall, China’s Tiananmen Square, Chile under siege, or when Japan was ripped asunder. One observer noted, “It’s the battle cry of humanity. It moves, it inspires, it mystifies.”
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For a decade, Rafa Nadal’s clay court music has moved us, inspired us, and mystified us. Whiplash forehands soar. We’re taken aback by a rising crescendo of laser cross-court backhands, well-placed serves, fabulous defense, great speed, uber-athleticism, and that Nadalian will that plays every point as if it were his last.
The man excels at many an instrument. He orchestrates matches with a grinding precision, drumming foes into submission.
But today, Nadal’s performance got off to a shaky start. Novak Djokovic seemed to be on the ascendance as the match began, and an errant Nadal forehand gave Novak a key break in the eighth game of the first set. Nadal had a pair of chances to break back, but he shanked two forehands. Djokovic, scampering and stretching wide, captured the first set 6-3.
The tense, almost silent crowd (who knew well they were watching the game’s two best maestros) now wondered whether Nole—whose childhood coach actually taught him the basics of classical music—could finally beat Rafa at Roland Garros, gaining his seventh major and a career Slam.
There was reason to think he had a legitimate chance. The numbers were benign. The Serb had been closing the gap in his 19-21 lifetime record against the Spaniard, including one dominant run when he beat Rafa seven straight times. Novak had prevailed in their four most recent matches, including the final in Rome just three weeks ago. Plus, Novak has a fabulous record when it comes to winning matches after taking the first set.
But stats are stats.
This was Roland Garros, and at Nadal’s Symphony Hall, Rafa rules.
The court is vast, his confidence huge, the balls are slow, and the matches long. Newsflash: downing Nadal at Roland Garros is one of the biggest asks in all of sports. In a decade, Swede Robin Soderling remains the only one to pull the trick.
Novak Djokovic would not be able to prevail on this day.
In the sixth game of the second set, the match turned when Rafa spanked a flat forehand winner. The crowd exploded. Seeing the ball big, Rafa had elevated his game, playing with far more aggression, and he broke serve when Novak netted a forehand. Yes, Novak would break back to even the set. But something was very wrong. As in his semifinal against Ernests Gulbis, Djokovic’s energy level inexplicably dropped. He suffered a tough let cord, and Rafa pounded yet another short shot to collect the second set, 7-5.
Now Nole’s legs weakened. Any explosiveness vanished. A weary expression took hold on his face, and fans thought of the many curious physical problems that have shadowed his career. Head down, eyes vacant, breathing deeply, flat-footed, eyes vacant—Djokovic’s body language was wretched. It was hot, but not Australia hot. Flinging his racket with a sudden fury, complaining to his box, gesturing to no one in particular, or trying an occasional serve and volley—none of it seemed to help.
The level of play was out of tune, way flat. Still, Nadal, strong and hitting most of his notes, prevailed to secure the third set 6-2.
Now Rafa appeared ready to hit his old refrains and cruise to victory. The error-strewn Djokovic—offering pedestrian returns and far too many flailing groundies—meekly lost the first game of the fourth set and pulled a mini-Sampras when he threw up, just a little bit, on court.
But, to his credit, Nole didn’t throw in the towel. Down 2-4 with Nadal serving, he hit a beautiful return. The crowd roared, the Serb went on to break, and the match, oh-so-briefly, began to sing a far different tune. For a moment, Nole found his voice. The level of play picked up and Djokovic evened the score at 4-4.
Ode to joy!
IT mentioned to Rafa’s coach Toni Nadal that this was his pupil’s Ninth Symphony, and asked what kind of music he thought his student made out there on court. “He has the forehand and is really good mentally,” said Toni, sticking to sports. “He is a player who can play with bad situations. When he has a problem, he can overcome and play and win matches—that is the most important thing.”
Ironically, the Chilean political prisoner Renato Alvarado sounded a somewhat similar note when he spoke about Beethoven’s Ninth, saying, “When you are in the deepest, darkest hole, it was hope.”
So, at crunch time, Rafa hit a scorching cross-court forehand to set up a curious ending. Djokovic—distracted by a fan crying out—repeated his fatal flaw from the French Open final two years ago. He double faulted on Championship Point. Say it isn’t so.
Okay, Nadal’s Ninth did end on a sour note. And his Ninth Symphony may not even be his best Roland Garros win. Uncle Toni said the victory over Djokovic in the semis last year, when Nadal was coming back from injury, was more meaningful.
Likewise, Rafa’s nine Roland Garros symphonies (including a record five consecutive wins), and his 66-1 record here, may not be the greatest mark in tennis. It is still hard to counter Roger Federer’s backers, who point to his 17 Grand Slam titles.
But Nadal—28 years old, with perhaps a few more prime years ahead—is gaining quickly. He’s now in second place, tied with Pete Sampras at 14.
What is the key to Rafa’s success? Rafa actually disagrees with his Uncle Toni, saying, “Everybody who is able to do what we are doing, [it] is because we are able to find solutions. But … you find solutions because you really want to do it, because you really want to fight … To find it, you play with the right motivation all the time.
And that’s why Novak, me, Roger, [for the] last eight years we [have been] there so many times. It’s obvious that we are not playing at our best every day, but … we were able to keep believing in the victory, keep fighting for the victory, and keep trying different ways to win the match, no? … That’s why we were able to do … with that regularity, no? … During all my career I [fought] a lot for every match, and that’s the principal thing in my opinion, no?
Because then the solution arrives … [you] analyze the opponent, what’s better, what’s worse. The most important thing is not so much problem-solving, it is more motivation.”
Similarly, commentator Bill Moyers says the key to Beethoven’s Ninth is that it is “so revealing of our deepest feeling. We know it is saying to us what we cannot say ourselves.”
Conductor George Matthew observes, “The whole thing [about Beethoven’s Ninth] is that it is a kind of creation story … It’s primordial, a big bang. It gets into your bloodstream.”
With his nine French titles, Rafa—the claymeister and court musician—has created history. And yes, his play, defined by “big bang” shots, is almost primordial. There is no doubt. He has gotten into our bloodstream.
