Chapter 12: Greatest Threat
For the majority of his career, Rafael Nadal was so far superior to everyone else on clay that few could even challenge him reliably. That changed with Novak Djokovic in the picture.
When Djokovic and Nadal met in the 2013 Monte-Carlo final, the feeling was very much that two seasoned greats were squaring off, even with both men in their mid-20s. Nadal had been out early in the year, missing the Australian Open due to injury, but he came back in force. After losing to Horatio Zeballos in the Viña del Mar final, Nadal won in Acapulco, then won Indian Wells in one of his most impressive title runs to date. He survived a high-quality clash with Ernests Gulbis, beat a hampered Federer easily, handled Tomáš Berdych, then rebounded from a set and a break to beat del Potro in the final. With the big hard court title coming so soon after Nadal’s comeback, he looked primed for a big 2013.
As was fast becoming the norm, Djokovic won the Australian Open for his sixth major. His loss to del Potro in the Indian Wells semifinals delayed the next Djokovic-Nadal match, but with del Potro’s nuclear forehands at their very best for much of the contest, the loss seemed reasonable. In Miami, though, Djokovic suffered a simply bizarre loss to Tommy Haas, winning just six games against the 15th seed. But after some early-round struggles in Monte-Carlo, Djokovic rounded into form, cruising through his quarterfinal and semifinal. Nadal was off by comparison, getting dragged to the brink by Grigor Dimitrov and blowing a double-break lead in the second set of his semifinal with Tsonga before recovering in a tiebreak.
Any inkling of Djokovic being the favorite due to form, though, vanished when one turned to history. In 2003, Nadal had lost to Guillermo Coria at Monte-Carlo. He missed the tournament in 2004 due to injury. Then he won the title every single year from 2005 to 2012.
So as much as Djokovic was clearly Nadal’s biggest rival and had demonstrated himself capable of beating the Spaniard on clay in 2011, against that track record, Djokovic would have been grateful for every scrap of self-belief he could muster. Not only that, but he was coming off three straight losses to Nadal on clay, including a 3-6, 1-6 drubbing in the 2012 Monte-Carlo final. The level required to beat Nadal at Monte-Carlo was basically an unknown quantity. In 2003, he was a baby. In 2013, as the well-rounded, mature world-beater, Nadal was a completely unsolved puzzle at the tournament.
And yet Djokovic began the final playing the sort of tennis an A.I. might when the robots eventually attempt to take over our beloved racket sport. Backhands regularly leapt off his racket at absurd angles, the kind any player would be lucky to produce once per match. He timed Nadal’s high-bouncing forehands to the millisecond, crushing deep winners off balls that his peers would have shanked into the seats. A Tennis TV stat during the sixth game showed that Djokovic was making contact with the ball, on average, 1.06 meters above the ground. Nadal’s other opponents that week averaged a contact point of 1.28 meters. Djokovic’s unparalleled skill at taking the ball early, before Nadal’s topspin was given the chance to really launch the ball skyward, was paying dividends.
Sometimes, a tennis player is struck by a holy beam of light and can’t miss. It’s irresistible to watch. Marin Čilić has made, potentially, a Hall of Fame-worthy career from two or three of those days alone. Djokovic had one of those days in the 2013 Monte-Carlo final. But Nadal was that unique opponent who could still win against opponents on their very best days. Djokovic needed even more to win, he had to play his best but also ensure Nadal couldn’t come back at him.
So he decided to harass Nadal’s backhand by railing at the Spaniard’s weaker side with spin-loaded crosscourt forehands and slow, deep backhands down the line. Both were safe shots that Djokovic could hit with ease and forced Nadal into comparatively uncomfortable positions. Sometimes it took five or six tries to force the error from Nadal—sometimes more—but Djokovic’s consistency and patience ensured he could eventually chisel out those errors.
In 2022, Patrick Mouratoglou, the former coach of Serena Williams and regular resident in the players’ boxes of several top pros today, stirred up some controversy with the following quote: “Novak at his top [level], even on clay, I think he’s the best player in the world.” Mouratoglou went on to say that this sounded strange in light of how much Nadal had won on clay, but added, “If you look at the figures, Novak beat Rafa many times on clay. Many many times.” (Nadal led the head-to-head on clay 19-8 at the time. Perhaps Mouratoglou thought Djokovic was the one with 19 wins.)
The claim is fairly outrageous, let’s make no mistake about that. Even if you take it at face value, Djokovic’s best level being superior to Nadal’s on clay is still irrelevant given the lopsided head-to-head in Nadal’s favor on the dirt—Djokovic must be significantly worse than Nadal at producing his best level. But if Mouratoglou actually believed what he was saying, the first set of the 2013 Monte-Carlo final is probably the best possible evidence for his hot take. Djokovic took on a Nadal who, while not at his best by any means, was in his prime, and dominated him on his favorite surface.
Nadal tried to weather the storm, running around his backhand when possible, but Djokovic executed his strategy at such a high level that there was little breathing room. The match was reminiscent of some of the 2011 battles in that you could actually see Nadal’s backhand break down over the course of the match. It held up fine in the first few points, but as Djokovic pounded the ball to that side of the court again and again, it would eventually crack—Nadal would go for too risky of a shot, or the shot would simply falter under the rigorous Djokovic examination.
Still, Nadal got his teeth into the match. Djokovic won the first five games and had five opportunities to seal a bagel set (true to form, when Nadal saved the second set point with a big serve, he audibly cried “vamos” despite being down 5-0), but Nadal survived for 1-5, then broke for 2-5 before finally ceding the first set under the Djokovician tempest.
Nadal didn’t take long to make his push. The match became a war; Djokovic showed some signs of fatigue as early as the first few games of the second set. It was also clear just how small the margins were in this rivalry: Even when Djokovic was reeling off game after game in the first set, there was a sense that he needed to cover as much ground as quickly as possible, because a Nadal resurgence felt inevitable rather than a mere danger. Djokovic’s body language suggested as much—he celebrated positively after almost every game he won. He played with patience but also urgency; he was going to win every single point if he could. Djokovic celebrated each pivotal point he won, often with repeated nods, trying to amp up his own energy every time he progressed another step towards match point. It was almost like he was running a race, straining to get to the finish line as fast as humanly possible. There was no room to do anything else.
Nadal looked momentarily capable of pulling off a comeback for the ages—he wore down Djokovic in a series of long rallies towards the end of the second set, grabbing a huge break of serve for 6-5—only for Djokovic’s first-set god mode to return in the nick of time. A crosscourt backhand landed at an impossibly acute angle for a winner, a few pulverized forehands cracked Nadal’s defense, until a final untouched inside-out forehand flew through the court to seal Djokovic’s victory: 6-2, 7-6 (1).
At this point in the rivalry, both players understood that they had to play their best tennis to have a good chance of winning a match against their great rival. Once this realization came about, many aspects of a typical tennis match went away. Easing into the first couple games? Screw that, Djokovic and Nadal were hunting for a break as soon as possible, sprinting straight off the starting line. Sometimes Djokovic would pepper Nadal’s backhand on every point, but sometimes he would save the tactic for when he needed it most—he could go awhile without using the gambit, but down break point, he would laser in on those crosscourt forehands and down-the-line backhands. It was almost no surprise when one player destroyed the other in a set. Invariably, one or the other would be at their best or close to it, and would simply stomp the player who wasn’t. It had happened in the first two sets of the 2012 Roland-Garros final (and in the third set, when Djokovic turned the tables on Nadal), and now in the first set of the 2013 Monte-Carlo final.
Nadal and Djokovic were also tactically aware in their dominance, negating each other’s games as their own fired on all cylinders. Peak Nadal could force Djokovic to be on the run essentially all the time, making it way too difficult for the Serb to assert himself on the match. How can you, when every shot is hit on the full sprint? Peak Djokovic would mostly only allow Nadal to hit backhands, plus the occasional rushed forehand. Since Nadal’s most devastating shot was the unrushed forehand, the Spaniard’s game would be gutted and Djokovic would sail to victory. Against other players, Djokovic and Nadal could take the opponent’s best punch and hit back with their own irresistible tennis, but against each other, the opponent playing their best was a death knell. You could only defend with all your might and hope to eventually knock them off their game. (This happened more than you might think—Djokovic and Nadal’s incredible defense helped to lengthen points even when one was at a severe disadvantage, and often it proved too difficult to sustain a consistently spectacular level over the course of a long match. The loser would almost always have their chances over the course of a match.)
The dynamic helped explain why Djokovic and Nadal were yet to play a true epic. As good as the 2012 Australian Open final was, Djokovic was shaky in the first set, then was so good in most of the next two that Nadal had virtually no chance to do anything. The fourth set was incredible, but only came about because Nadal managed to play a very risky brand of tennis in an unfavorable situation. Likewise, it was difficult for Djokovic to get much going on clay, when Nadal was often at his best. That was what had made the 2013 Monte-Carlo final so special—Djokovic had descended into Nadal’s lair, and outfoxed him despite being less familiar with the territory.
The match reaffirmed that Djokovic was Nadal’s only real rival on clay. No one else could come close to the Serb’s level of execution in terms of taking the ball on the rise, hitting the backhand down the line, and defending in the face of Nadal’s forehand. If any win could spark some momentum, it was this—how often is an eight-year undefeated run at a tournament put to bed?
But Nadal simply could not be slowed, much less stopped, on clay. Djokovic lost to Dimitrov in Madrid and Berdych in Rome (this one was shocking; Djokovic hadn’t lost to Berdych since 2010 and led 6-2, 5-2 at one point). Nadal bagged both titles. Regardless, going into Roland-Garros, Djokovic was clearly the only one who held the keys to beating the Spaniard on clay. The only question was whether he could do it over five sets.
Thanks so much for reading The Golden Rivalry. I’m editing this note after Nadal announced he’d be missing the Australian Open—it’s sad news, and I honestly don’t know how he finds the will to keep coming back after aborted attempts like this one. Still, this year was always going to be more about clay than anything else for him, so hopefully he’s fully healthy by Monte-Carlo.
As a reminder, if you like this project and want to donate a couple bucks, I’m on Venmo at Owen-Lewis-43 and Paypal (@thegoldenrivalry). Anything is very much appreciated. I’ll be back on Wednesday to write about the second five-setter in this epic rivalry: the 2013 Roland-Garros semifinal. See you then! -Owen