Chapter 15: Djokovic Locks Up The Cement
After Nadal's meaningful U.S. Open final victory over Djokovic in 2013, Rafa looked primed for more hard court success over Djokovic. It would never come.
After the U.S. Open final, Nadal had all the momentum in the world, but the rivalry with Djokovic had one last chapter in 2013. The next clash was in the Beijing final, and this time Djokovic was at his best, denying Nadal a look at even a break point in the 6-3, 6-4 win. They met yet again in the championship match of the World Tour Finals, with Djokovic winning by an identical scoreline. Crucially, his backhand down the line was more accurate in these matches, anchoring the rest of his game to cancel out Nadal’s. In ATP Finals match, particularly, he was back to his tactical mastery from 2011, forcing Nadal to hit as many backhands as possible on every single point.
Djokovic’s late success in 2013 wasn’t enough to budge it from being Nadal’s year, on a tour level and with respect to to the rivalry. Rafa beat Novak to the #1 ranking, and though the head-to-head that season may have been 3-3, Nadal scored the two biggest wins in the Roland-Garros semifinal and the U.S. Open final. The Spaniard was already a story of proving doubters wrong, from showing he could excel on all surfaces to overcoming each of his many injuries. Leapfrogging Djokovic for another stint at #1 in 2013 was as worthy an accomplishment of headlining his resume as anything else.
But Djokovic laid groundwork for future success at the close of 2013. He looked like his best self again in those wins over Nadal. At break point for Djokovic at 4-3 in the first set of the World Tour Finals match, Nadal executed a near-perfect serve-and-volley play, hitting a great wide serve and chopping the backhand volley deep into the other side of the court. Djokovic read it well, sprinting all the way into the corner —when his slide came to a stop, his foot was mere inches away from a courtside advertisement board—and didn’t just get to the ball, he scooped a wonderful lob over Nadal. The rally ended with a cat-and-mouse exchange at net, with Djokovic punching a forehand volley past the Spaniard. His animalistic roar of celebration felt almost underwhelming given the rally it followed. (I showed this clip to a friend who doesn’t follow tennis, who laughed “look at him” in disbelief during Djokovic’s celebration.) He was calm, confident, precise. Nadal lacked some sharpness in both losses, but unlike the Montreal and U.S. Open matches, Djokovic did not give him a single opportunity to get his teeth into the matches.
Nadal made his trademark stand in the last game of the World Tour Finals title match. As Djokovic served for the trophy, up 30-love, Nadal ripped a forehand pass by him. He ran down a short slice to deliver another winner, saving a match point. And on the decisive match point, he was in control of the rally, punishing inside-out forehands until he missed one by a hair.
Djokovic had an odd expression on his face as he raised his arms in victory. Typical emotions upon winning a big title are relief or pure joy; this was neither. It wasn’t quite the kind of frown that looks happy, either. He looked satisfied, but his defiant, quasi-smile had a hard edge to it. He looked like he had proven a point.
Let’s play amateur psychologist for a moment to analyze a smirk that almost certainly had no larger significance. Djokovic had been forced to play second fiddle to Nadal at two of the year’s four majors, while only taking one of the two others for himself. Taking revenge over Rafa to close out the year must have felt good. But maybe he was also beginning to realize just how pronounced his upper hand in the hard court matchup was. It had been a bad period for Djokovic against Nadal on hard—the 2012 Australian Open final was a war, though he had won, and then Nadal had won their first two meetings on hard in 2013. The Beijing final, coming so soon after the U.S. Open final loss, would have been easy to classify as a Nadal off day in a significantly less important match.
To immediately back it up with an identical result, though? It’d have done wonders for my confidence. Djokovic was in control for virtually every moment of the match, aside from a couple quick moments when Nadal got hot. The last point was emblematic of Nadal’s struggle—he’d gotten the upper hand in the rally, a precious commodity against someone who gave him as little time to attack as Djokovic, only to be nudged into an error by Novak’s superb defense.
Nadal hadn’t been as good in this match as he’d been at the U.S. Open, sure. But he was still making semifinals and finals late in 2013. Maybe the difference was Djokovic, and maybe that Nadal performance in the final in New York was more of an anomaly than it initially seemed. When the Rafa forehand down the line wasn’t on point, Djokovic had the advantage. When Djokovic’s backhand down the line was on point, Nadal was even further on the back foot. Add in Djokovic’s bigger serve, better return, and similarly excellent defense, and Nadal was right back in the cage he’d been in during 2011, only now Djokovic had a better understanding of how to keep him there.
From that point on, Djokovic would display an almost freakish ability to produce his best tennis in matches against his great rival on hard court. It’s nearly impossible to play your best from start to finish of a match, even for just two sets, but Djokovic would constantly come within a shade of doing just that. And that’s why he hasn’t lost a set to Nadal on hard court in the past ten years, nine matches, and 19 sets. It’s a feat that many of his fans use to diminish Nadal, and in doing so they do a disservice to how remarkable it is that Djokovic has kept Nadal’s neck under his foot for so long. Djokovic himself couldn’t have known what was ahead, but the 2013 ATP Finals championship match might just have tipped him off that the worst was over when it came to matchups with his greatest rival on hard courts.
A smirk-worthy realization, wouldn’t you say?
Thanks so much for reading The Golden Rivalry. Given the ongoing Australian Open, I’ll use the upcoming Sunday slot for another mailbag—you’ll have more time to get your questions in, but feel free to start sending them in now. And don’t limit them to Djokovic-Nadal, anything in the current world of tennis, especially the AO, is fair game. You can even ask me about the worst loss in my low-level club tennis career. -Owen