Chapter 16: Bad Luck
2014 was up for grabs for either Nadal or Djokovic. Novak got his licks in with a pair of wins over Rafa in Masters 1000 finals, but Nadal, as in 2013, won the match that mattered most.
2014 was primed nicely for Djokovic and Nadal to continue their white-hot rivalry. Six days into the year, Nadal had 13,130 ranking points and Djokovic had 12,260. David Ferrer, the world #3, had 5,800. It was Nadal and Djokovic’s world now, Federer, Murray, and everyone else left behind. The Spaniard was ranked #1, but the Serb was riding a 24-match winning streak going into the Australian Open. No one else on the ATP had much momentum at all.
The dream final didn’t happen at the Australian Open. Wawrinka, who had been building momentum for a full year, took out Djokovic in the quarterfinals, 9-7 in the fifth set. Djokovic blew the last two points in the most uncharacteristic way possible—at 7-8, 30-all, he had run down a mishit drop shot in plenty of time, but hit his sliced putaway wide. Then, on match point, he hit a great serve and was presented with a high forehand volley with most of the court open, but somehow hit that wide as well. It not only ended his winning streak (at 28 matches by this point) but ended his run of three straight Australian Open titles. It was a costly loss; Berdych was waiting in the semifinals, and Djokovic still had the Czech’s number.
Nadal’s form was patchy early in the event, but he was sharp as ever by the semifinals, where he met Federer. The clash was hyped up like always, even more so since Federer had been in great form throughout the tournament. But it didn’t take long to see that the Swiss was totally overmatched. Nadal didn’t even face a break point until the third set. His backhand was so sharp as to give Federer’s forehand issues in the deuce-court rallies, usually a source of relative comfort for the Swiss. His passing shots tormented Federer almost without fail when Roger tried to leave the baseline. He broke down Federer’s backhand as always. When the dust had settled, Nadal had won 7-6 (4), 6-3, 6-3, bringing his head-to-head against Federer to a thumping 23-10. (And 9-2 at the majors.)
Nadal got Wawrinka in the final, who he’d never lost to before. In fact, Nadal had won all 26 of the sets they had played. He was an overwhelming favorite to win. And if he did, he would have the Double Career Grand Slam—at least two titles at each of the four majors—before both Federer and Djokovic. Plus, he’d have a monstrous lead in the rankings. Already up by almost 1,000 on Djokovic, Nadal would gain the full 2,000 for winning the event since he hadn’t been able to play in 2013, while Djokovic would lose the lion’s share of 2,000 points for failing to defend his title from that year. Nadal would have 14 majors, the last two of which would be on hard court, won consecutively—what was that about him being a clay specialist, again? And with Federer more under control than ever, he would be in prime position to wrestle away the GOAT title.
Then he hurt his back in the warm-up for the final. Wawrinka played brilliantly, bullying Nadal with sharp angles from both forehand and backhand, but it became clear early in the second set that Rafa could barely serve or move. Always the fighter, he went for broke in the third set and slapped enough winners to win it 6-3. Still, he never had a shot of winning, and Wawrinka claimed a relatively drama-free fourth set. Nadal had chewed through a tough draw and put himself in position to win the second Australian Open title that he had come so close to in 2012. It was out of his control. So it goes.
While Djokovic had, for the moment, lost his edge at the majors—as Nadal came within a back injury of winning three of the last four, Djokovic had now gone a full year without winning one—he still excelled at the other events. The Miami final was the site for Novak-Rafa #40, a rematch three years after their superb 2011 championship match at the same tournament, and again Djokovic seemed unbothered by anything Nadal tried on a hard court. When the Spaniard whacked an inside-out forehand winner to give himself a break point in the opening game, he probably felt good about his odds to at least give Djokovic a fight. Instead, that winner was as good as things got for him. Novak outserved him, rushed the forehand and peppered the backhand, and rained those relentless returns on and around the baseline. Nadal hit his share of highlight-reel forehand winners, but Djokovic limited him to success in small pockets.
Down match point at 3-6, 3-5, Nadal left nothing to chance and went on the attack. A good backhand slice set him up for a biting forehand down the line. Djokovic got hit back deep to his backhand. A hard backhand set Nadal up for another forehand down the line, this one even more vicious. Djokovic got it back too. Nadal approached the net and tried a drop volley, but it ballooned up for long enough that Djokovic could run it down comfortably. Nadal poked a volley back over the net, it bounced at the Serb’s feet, and Djokovic timed the half-volley to perfection, punching it past Nadal for a winner. The rally was 28 shots. Nadal had scarcely done anything wrong. Yet Djokovic had won the point. The rally was a throwback to their 2011 matches; Nadal was hitting shots that would have won rallies against literally anyone else, but Djokovic was impervious. (The point was also enough to send Djokovic falling to the ground in triumph, the last time he would do so after winning a Masters 1000 until his win over Carlos Alcaraz to claim the 2023 Cincinnati title.)
It was his third straight win over Nadal, all on hard court, all without dropping a set. He had not beaten the Spaniard at a major since the 2012 Australian Open, but he was emphatically turning the tide on hard court, reminding Nadal that to even make the matches competitive, he had to execute at an extremely high level. The head-to-head had closed to 22-18 in favor of Nadal.
Djokovic took things a step further in the Rome final a couple months later. Djokovic was 1-4 in the last five matches on clay with Nadal, and promptly fell behind 5-1 in this match. But from the start of the second set, he started pulling the trigger on huge winners with alarming frequency. He set up break point at 1-0, chasing down a good forehand approach shot down the line from Nadal and crushing the life out of a crosscourt passing shot while dead on the run.
Nadal would get the break back, but Djokovic had started to redline. It was similar to how he played Nadal on clay in 2008 or 2009: eye the open court, then bash, bash, bash. Most of Djokovic’s bullets were going in—he won the second set 6-3, and it didn’t feel that close. He dialed up the power even farther in the third set, putting on a truly ridiculous display of power. He hit three return winners off first serves. Nadal attacked whenever he could and pounced whenever Djokovic lapsed even marginally, breaking back for 3-all in the middle of the set, but the Djokovic storm was irresistible. Take the Serb’s 4-3 service game: forehand winner down the line, backhand winner crosscourt, forehand winner down the line, ace. The shots were violently angled and shadowed the lines. There was no way to respond.
On match point—Nadal’s serve, 3-5—Djokovic attacked with a biting inside-out forehand return. Nadal, ever the master of defense on clay, ran down the return and scooped it back deep with a slice forehand. And here, Djokovic moved away from his pure power strategy and drew inspiration from 2011. He hit once to Nadal’s forehand (though in a way that ensured he couldn’t be attacked on the next shot), then made the Spaniard hit one, two, three, four, five straight backhands. On the fifth, Nadal cracked, sending the ball long.
It was the first time Djokovic had beaten Nadal on clay from a set down. His winners-unforced errors ratio stood at a mighty 46-30; that he had put nearly 50 winners past Nadal on clay in just three sets was difficult to fathom. With Nadal the world #1 and building to win Roland-Garros for the millionth (ninth) time, one might have thought the win had implications for Paris, maybe even making Djokovic more of a favorite than normal. But the high degree of risk in Djokovic’s strategy should have been a clue as to what would happen at Roland-Garros. While it was very difficult to sustain such a dangerous strategy for two sets against Nadal on clay, it became virtually impossible in best-of-five.
Djokovic tried, he really did. He got to the Roland-Garros final yet again. He took the first set off Nadal. He broke back in the second set after Rafa got his teeth into the match. He threw up, for God’s sake, spewing a tortured helix of white liquid a couple hours in. He hit two stretching backhand stab winners off Nadal drop shots that looked to be about a millisecond away from bouncing for the second time, drawing applause from Rafa.
And for the sixth time, it was all for nothing. Nadal took losing the first set in stride and went nuclear with his forehand to make up the deficit. Rafa’s forehand on clay is the most devastating groundstroke in tennis history, and here we saw why as he hurled every variation imaginable at Djokovic. The down-the-line forehands came thick and fast, even off good backhands from Djokovic. One, nearly 20 shots into the rally early in the third set, drew gasps from the French commentators. Mary Carillo, on the broadcast, couldn’t help but remark midpoint, “that forehand down the line again. Wow!”
Nadal sent blistering forehands inside-out, crosscourt, and down-the-line, the ball trampolining off the clay. The shot took over the match. The second set had been a battle, but Nadal claimed it with a duo of brutal shots down the line, the backhand setting up the inevitable killing blow from the forehand. Set three was a 6-2 drubbing. Djokovic again got a break back in the fourth set, but it didn’t matter. Nadal passed him with a trademark crosscourt backhand, Djokovic made a couple errors, and a double fault spelled his end, just like in 2012.
Louisa Thomas of Grantland wrote a superb column on the final, beginning with “The rivalry between Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic is the best in tennis right now, but sometimes a little part of me wants to wave the white flag and cry “STOP!” The best of their matches have produced the most exquisite pleasure and pain: the sight of two of the top athletes in the world pushing each other – and themselves – to the limits of their physical capacity and beyond.”
Thomas touched on perhaps the most enchanting part of the rivalry: it was unthinkable that a tennis player could try as hard as Djokovic or Nadal would in their matches and still not win. Late in the fourth set, Nadal’s legs were going. He seemed to have a problem with his back. You had Djokovic vomiting on court. And he lost. Like all the other years, Nadal’s forehands and corner-defending slides had been too much. Djokovic lifted his arm to give the crowd a thumbs-up on the way to the net, which seemed like a way to paper over the tragedy he’d just been hit with, an emotional band-aid over the bullet wound.
I mean, how do you absorb a loss like that? You grow up playing on clay courts. You make the quarterfinals of Roland-Garros at 19, the semifinals at 20. You win Rome in 2008. In 2011, you beat the King of Clay TWICE on his favorite surface. In 2012, you make the Roland-Garros final, and in 2013, you play a de facto final in the semis. The following year, you’re back in the championship match. You play to your limits through hellacious conditions. And you lose. You lose to the exact same player you lost to in 2006 and 2007 and 2008 and 2012 and 2013. You’ve beaten everyone else at this damn tournament on this damn surface, but there is one guy who is better than you on it, and he refuses to do so much as gift you one of these matches. Is one win too much to ask? This guy has nine titles now, surely he can give you one? WELL, CAN HE?
Federer had experienced a similar torment from 2005 to 2008, but he had the good fortune of not having to play Nadal in 2009 en route to his lone title. Djokovic was yet to have such luck. I imagine he was frustrated and pissed at Nadal and at the world. He wasn’t even getting closer to his goal; the 2013 semifinal was closer than the 2014 final. Djokovic was a better clay-courter than players in the past who had won multiple Roland-Garros titles, it was just that he kept getting screwed by the gatekeeper from hell. The only thing to do was to keep trying, keep believing that eventually, either Nadal would crack or Djokovic would overcome him. Both things would happen eventually. But my god, did the Spaniard torture Djokovic at Roland-Garros before the Serb was granted a slice of luck.
Thanks so much for reading The Golden Rivalry. I’ve been distracted and sleep-deprived by what has been a wonderful Australian Open so far, but it was fun to return to 2014 to write this. That was a weird season of tennis. (Just wait for the second half.) But we’re coming to the end of Djokovic’s wilderness period at the majors—he’s about to become the big-match beast you know and love/hate today. I’ll see you on Sunday to talk about it some more.
And we’re due one of those dreaded reminders—if you’re enjoying this project and want to donate a couple bucks to my writing struggles, my Venmo is Owen-Lewis-43 and my PayPal is @thegoldenrivalry. Any amount is appreciated more than I can express, so feel free to send as much or as little as you want. If you’ve already donated, I’m extremely grateful to you and I hope the chapters since your donation have lived up to what drove you to donate in the first place. Thank you, and I hope you all find the time to watch the late rounds of the Australian Open. Sleep is for the weak! -Owen