Chapter 4: Calm Before the Storm
2010 saw Nadal dominate and Djokovic struggle. The latter found himself by the end of the year, though, just in time to set up a U.S. Open final with his biggest rival.
Nadal’s struggles in the back half of 2009 bled into the start of the following year. He retired from his Australian Open quarterfinal against Andy Murray after falling down two sets and a break, right knee pain proving unbearable. Unlike at Wimbledon in 2009, here Nadal had the opportunity to defend an important title, but mid-tournament injury is hardly a more appealing ending than a full withdrawal. He lost to Ivan Ljubicic at Indian Wells and fell to Andy Roddick in Miami. It was a big enough lapse for The Guardian to comment that he was in “relative decline” after the loss to Roddick.
For the rest of 2010, though, Nadal had the year he should have had in 2009. He stormed through the clay season without losing a match, reclaiming the Roland-Garros title with a satisfying, straight-set revenge win over Söderling in the final. He won Wimbledon again, this time having to suffer through a couple five-setters en route to the final, but once there, he destroyed Tomáš Berdych. (Berdych had beaten Federer in the quarterfinals and Djokovic in the semifinals. Some reward for the poor guy.) Nadal then won the U.S. Open for the first time, completing his Career Grand Slam with a tough win over Djokovic in the final (more on that later). He was back on top of the world, where everyone expected him to be for the entirety of 2009 and beyond, except his dominance was even more total than it had been at the start of the previous year. His amazing stretch lacked wins over his biggest rivals—Nadal beat Federer in the 2010 Madrid final, but that was one of only two meetings between the two in 2010. And his defeat of Djokovic in the U.S. Open final was the first time the two had met that season.
Even so, Nadal’s superiority was evident. The forehand, once vulnerable on grass and hard courts, had become an all-surface weapon. The backhand was more of an offensive force. His defense remained utterly clear of everyone else’s, the speed startling, the passing shots precise. (Just watch the rally at 2:42 below.) He not only volleyed well but understood the volley, scarcely coming to net behind anything less than a vicious approach shot that would ensure him an easy finishing shot. And the serve, his longtime weak point? Well, at the U.S. Open in 2010, Nadal suddenly started serving bombs at upwards of 130 mph. The man who many had once tried to lump into the long line of Spanish clay specialists had consolidated his reign over every surface.
As for Djokovic, the U.S. Open final marked the end of a long period of being lost in the wilderness. 2010 was his low point. Up two sets to one against Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the Australian Open quarterfinals, he ran out of energy with no warning. He was reduced to a bystander for the final two sets, forced to watch in agony as the still-peppy Tsonga pranced around in victory. The clay season, where Djokovic had so excelled in 2009 (there was the bad loss at Roland-Garros, but until then he had gone deep everywhere and only lost to Rafa, which in 2009 was about as well as you could do), became a house of horrors in 2010. Verdasco beat him handily in the Monte-Carlo semifinals—with Rafa waiting in the final1—then again in the Rome quarterfinals. At Djokovic’s home tournament in Belgrade, which he had won in 2009, he was forced to retire after the first set of his quarterfinal against Filip Krajinović. And at Roland-Garros, Djokovic blew a two-set lead for the first—and only—time in his career, falling to Jurgen Melzer.
“This defeat was really difficult for me emotionally,” Djokovic said many years later of the loss to Melzer. “I wanted to quit tennis.” His game relied on being a sheer, smooth wall that would break apart any slight weakness an opponent might have. It was an effective, stifling tactic at its best, but Djokovic was the one cracking in 2010. He couldn’t trust anything. His serve was faltering, his forehand was errant, he would tire before opponents. Djokovic made the semifinals at Wimbledon, but somehow lost to Berdych in straight sets2.
Slowly, Djokovic started to turn things around. He won two group-stage Davis Cup matches in July. In August, he made the Canadian Open semifinal and lost a tight match to Federer, 7-5 in the third after having break point at 5-5 in the decider—a painful loss, but at least he was losing to a player better than he was again. After a loss to Andy Roddick in the Cincinnati quarterfinals (not ideal, but not a terrible result), Djokovic went to the U.S. Open, and there he brought his very best.
For all Djokovic’s ambition to join Federer and Nadal in the top rank of the game, it took a long time, even after he demonstrated an ability to be their equal. Towards the end of 2010, though, things finally started to come together. His physical issues of the past had been partly due to his diet—he had a gluten allergy, and often found himself sluggish on court when he needed his strength the most. In 2010, he cut gluten out of his diet, which would prove a crucial step on the road to achieving world-class stamina. To compete with Nadal consistently, he needed to be physically and mentally flawless. Not in the sense that he could never tire, but Nadal had proven himself too strong an opponent in the past. Djokovic had to force Nadal to operate in the same red zone that Nadal required him to play in, and to do that, he had to be tireless. Only then could Djokovic allow his tennis to prove decisive.
The turning point for the Serb, in many ways, came at the 2010 U.S. Open semifinal against Federer. Nadal awaited the winner, having cruised to the final. The matchup with Federer, though not the focus of this book, was proving to be almost as difficult for Djokovic as the one with Nadal. Federer led the head-to-head 10-5 before their semifinal in New York. To make matters worse, Djokovic had lost to the Swiss at that tournament in 2007, 2008, and 2009, winning a total of just one set along the way (though plenty of them were very close).
But 2010 was different almost from the jump. Federer won a tight first set, but Djokovic destroyed him 6-1 in the second, and this was new. Typically in the rivalry, Federer was the one who would win the more lopsided sets, even when he lost the match. (Think of their 2007 Montreal final, a 7-6, 2-6, 7-6 win for Djokovic.) It forced Djokovic to play consistently well just to keep pace. But here, Federer had buckled under the Djokovic onslaught. And it wasn’t simply because he had weakened—it was because Djokovic was hitting with more force, more confidence, more will. He would engage Federer in forehand-to-forehand rallies out of choice, not necessity. Federer won a close third set and celebrated wildly, as if he had won the match already. Many probably thought that he had. Again, Djokovic came back at him to win the next set easily.
In the fifth, Federer played authoritatively, surviving a tough service game at 3-all and taking control of points with his forehand. But Djokovic was equal to him, holding from 15-30 to get to 4-all. As he settled into his return position after the hold, something like a smile seemed to pass over his face. And after all of that, serving to stay in the match at 4-5, Djokovic missed a smash and an easy crosscourt backhand to set Federer up with double match point at 15-40. Djokovic was on the precipice of a loss to Federer at the U.S. Open for the fourth straight year.
And here, finally, Djokovic had had enough.
He missed his first serve on match point #1, but attacked almost immediately once the rally began, moving around a short slice from Federer to strike a brutal inside-in forehand. Federer got it back with a deep forehand down the line, Djokovic sent him scampering all the way into the other corner with a crosscourt backhand, then the Serb tomahawked Federer’s desperate lob through the court with an almighty inside-out forehand swing volley. The second match point again began with a Djokovic second serve, but he brilliantly dispatched an inside-in forehand winner. Federer’s previous shot—a mid-court backhand—was passive but hardly abysmal, many players would have hit a rally shot right back, but Djokovic seized his small window of opportunity with both hands.
The game dragged on: Federer hauled it back to deuce a couple times, but Djokovic hit forehand winners on three consecutive deuce points, eagerly doing battle with the Swiss even as the blades of defeat swished millimeters away from his chin. His bravery paid off. Djokovic held, then broke Federer at 5-all. He was down 15-30 and then break point as he served for the match at 6-5. He fought to match point. A long rally ensued, 20 shots after the serve. Federer teed off on a few forehands, but Djokovic defended, holding firm in the exchange. While in the past, he might have lost his patience or his breath and tried to rifle a forehand winner, here he rallied coolly, hitting with depth and weight but no recklessness. Finally, he left a crosscourt backhand a bit short and central. Federer committed to the attack, moving around it to strike an inside-out forehand…that landed just wide.
Djokovic turned to face his box, arms aloft, one hand holding the throat of his racket and the other making the #1 finger. He looked like he had just come back from an out-of-body experience—heavy breathing, eyes wide, almost as if he was trying to make sense of the new reality he had created. It was the first time he had beaten Federer at a major since the 2008 Australian Open. It was the first time he had reached a major final since the 2008 Australian Open. The drought was over; he might have had a small “3” next to his name in the draws still, but for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he had taken on one of his rivals on the big stage and won in a way that inspired confidence that he could do it again.
Now he had to do just that against a certain Rafael Nadal in the final.
It hit me recently that this loss may have been fortunate for Djokovic. The next time they would play on clay, at Madrid in 2011, Djokovic would score his first win over Nadal on the dirt. With their previous match on clay having been the razor-close match at the same tournament two years earlier, Djokovic had a fresh memory of playing Nadal incredibly close on clay. If they had played at Monte-Carlo in 2010, however, it’s likely Nadal would have won in crushing fashion—he was at his very best in that tournament, losing a grand total of 14 games in five matches. With that as the most recent result between Nadal and Djokovic on clay, would Djokovic still have been able to play with such freedom to beat him at Madrid in 2011? It’s very possible that he would have, and hypotheticals like this matter about as much as a lollipop in a sewer. But it’s interesting to think about, and it’s funny how the butterfly flaps its wings sometimes.
I say “somehow” because Djokovic would go on to win his next eleven matches against Berdych, eventually compiling a ferocious 25-3 record in the “rivalry”.
Thanks so much for reading The Golden Rivalry. I’ll be back next time with a chapter on the 2010 U.S. Open final, the first major final between Djokovic and Nadal. As a reminder, if you like what you read, feel free to donate an amount of your choosing to me on Venmo (Owen-Lewis-43) or Paypal (@thegoldenrivalry). I’d be honored. See you Sunday. -Owen
Really great to highlight the importance of that 2010 US Open. Often gets overlooked when discussing Djokovic’s shift in 2011 where the diet is mainly talked about. A lot of great/ATG seasons or shifts from players don’t come out of nowhere; the latter half of the previous year often is the building block and “true” breath through. Sinner atm is the most obvious example where his late 2023 has carried into a dominant 2024, but I think it holds for the other upcoming ATGs like Swiatek’s 2021 season winning a 1000, learning a title defence for the first time and so on. Wonder what Djokovic’s 2011 would’ve looked like had he lost that Federer match