By Bill Simons
MELBOURNE, Australia—Didn’t we just do this?
Didn’t a commanding champion, Maria Sharapova, twist and dance on the precipice of disaster against a no-name? Didn’t a seemingly lopsided second-round match between a high seed and an unknown longshot turn into an improbable, tense and compelling battle at Laver Arena? Didn’t tennis give us more than enough drama for one day, as Sharapova narrowly escaped an inexplicable loss?
But that was then—well, this afternoon—and this was now: a nighttime Milwaukee vs. Majorca battle between the little Badger basher and pride of Wisconsin, Tim Smyczek, and the beloved Spanish icon Rafa Nadal.
Like No. 2 Sharapova vs. No. 150 Alexandra Panova, this was David vs. Goliath. The comparative stats were withering. After all, the No. 3 seed Nadal, the 2009 Aussie Open champ, has won 64 tournaments—including 14 Slams—to earn over $71 million. In contrast, Smyczek assured writers that he managed to make some money last year. But he’d won only one Aussie Open main draw match before 2015, and he had to prevail in three qualifying matches just to make it into the tourney. Even though he somewhat famously was the last American man standing at the 2013 US Open and also reached the finals of a challenger in Napa last fall, his deepest run on tour was reaching the third-round in Washington D.C. His No. 112 ranking was only 109 below Rafa’s.
But on this night, Rafa—diminished, hurting, grimacing, erratic and far from imposing—wasn’t Rafa. Amazingly, in this odd matchup, there wasn’t much of a gap between one of the best players in history—the greatest competitor of our era—and the ATP’s most avid Green Bay Packer fan.
Nadal began hurting near the end of the first set. Suffering from cramps in different parts of his body, he almost threw up and felt dizzy. No wonder he didn’t use his speed as a weapon. His usual corkscrew forehand rarely punished. His serve was modest, and three times he double faulted to allow Smyczek to break.
Yes, Rafa won the first set easily, 6-2. But Smyczek gradually got in touch with his inner Michael Chang and began to play the match of his life. Never mind that the celebrated writer Martin Amis once claimed there has never been and would never be a great champion named Timothy. Smyczek was now moving with liquid speed, blasting jumping backhands and—this is key—avoiding Nadal’s forehand from the backhand corner.
Opportunistic and feeling free, he jumped on let cords, blasted cross-court winners and was unafraid. He claimed the second and third sets and appeared in control in the fourth. “The most important thing was to stay within myself. I had nothing to lose,” the Wisconsinite, who now lives in Tampa, said later.
For Rafaholics, the Melbourne night sky was falling. Rafa was suffering and bending over in pain. His coach, his dad, his agent and publicist were glum. The great Rafa was reeling and writhing. Our game’s greatest physical warrior was again breaking down. The man who imposes himself physically couldn’t really push off.
“He was playing terribly,” Smyczek said candidly afterward, before he caught himself and quipped, “I have to be careful what I say.”
Smyczek, who had a 6-20 record in tiebreaks, was hardly careful in the third-set breaker, taking control of rallies and hitting inspired winners.
But if anyone in this sport battles to the very end, it’s the muscular Mallorcan. Sure enough, in the fourth set, Smyczek got a little tight, and Rafa changed tactics.
At times, the man who astounds us by chasing down every shot and battling for every point didn’t even move or fight. He was so sick he knew he had to stop running and just blast away and go for winners.
After the match, Smyczek conceded Rafa can do things others just can’t, and his forehand is a weapon that cannot be denied. (Roger Federer knows this all too well.)
Nadal found a way. Never mind that he blew three winnable match points. Or that Smyczek showed incredible sportsmanship when he insisted Rafa get another first serve after a thoughtless ‘fan’ yelled out while the Spaniard was serving at crunch time. And never mind that no other star in tennis history has suffered more on one court than Nadal has on Rod Laver Arena. Just ask Fernando Gonzalez, Andy Murray, David Ferrer or Stan Wawrinka.
In the end, the gutsiest player since Jimmy Connors displayed an almost transcendent grit. And when he prevailed 6-2, 3-6, 6-7, 6-3, 7-5 after four hours and twelve minutes of often cruel tennis, the exhausted Spaniard fell to the court, almost in tears. This was sheer relief.
His performance was not an exquisite triumph in a big final for the ages. It won’t be etched in record books, but in our memory of brave battles.
For this was a second-round win like few others. This was a warrior who had been suffering for more than three hours digging down and doing what had to be done.
“In terms of feeling bad,” Nadal said afterward, “this was one of the toughest wins I’ve had. I was close to not continuing. I was very dizzy and was afraid I might fall down.”
Instead he rose up, just like Sharapova had done seven hours earlier. Great champions do rise up, again and again and again.
