To produce a match commensurate with expectations would have been an achievement; in the event, all expectations were surpassed.
Rafael Nadal, four times French Open champion, against Roger Federer, holder of twelve grand slams and the winner of five consecutive Wimbledon titles. Two adamantine wills, two men with all the trappings of greatness. Federer is already ensconced on the pantheon of tennis greats; Nadal was vying to join him. And in an exhausting encounter that rumbled on for nigh on five hours, with two rain delays, Nadal eventually prevailed 6-4, 6-4, 6-7, 6-7, 9-7.
Initially, it had seemed that he would do so with surprising ease.
Few players step out on court with the focus of Nadal. His preparatory routine, which he observes with unflinching fidelity, has a ritualistic solemnity. The adjustment of the socks; the arrangement of the bottles; the sprint to reach the service line prior to the opening game; the twitching, the rummaging, and the religious bouncing of the balls; all are a way of channelling the ferocious energy that radiates from his every pore.
Bullish from the outset, Nadal subjected his opponent to a relentless barrage of bruising groundstrokes, preying for the most part on Federer’s weaker backhand side. Most effective of all was that bludgeon of a forehand: swooping through the air and rearing off the turf, a combination of raw power and recalcitrant spin that frequently proved unplayable.
Federer was broken in only his third service game. Having reached the final without dropping a set, and despite having forged a 4-1 lead in the second, he abruptly slipped to a two set deficit. It seemed that memories of his humiliating thrashing in the French Open Final had returned to haunt him; but, if so, he suppressed them, refusing to be usurped without a fight. Instead he took solace in his trusty serve, which, from the third set onwards, attained a level of mellifluous consistency that sustained him throughout many a Nadal onslaught.
Nevertheless, Nadal, with a clutch of break points in the third, came close to winning in three sets. Then a nasty slip sent the trainer scuttling on; and, although he survived the scare, it was only to see his momentum stolen by the rain. On the resumption, Federer seized the initiative. Serving with peerless efficiency, he took the third and fourth sets in the tiebreak.
The final set witnessed an exponential increase in quality. Each passing game ratcheted up the tension; Nadal threw everything he had at the Federer serve, but time and again Federer repelled him. Finally, at 7-7 on the Federer serve, and with the aid of two breathtaking passing shots, Nadal engineered a breakthrough. Then, under what must have been the most severe pressure, he held his nerve to serve for the Championship. Exhausted and overwhelmed, he collapsed on the turf.
Federer was gracious and eloquent in defeat, and Nadal magnanimous in victory. Whilst we expected nothing less, it was a fitting end to a glorious finale. Epic in scope and transcendent in quality, this was a final of lyrical beauty and heroic intensity. It will endure long in the memory.