Tennis or Golf: Which Is the Tougher Grand Slam To Win?

Winning the Grand Slam of tennis or golf would be a superhuman effort requiring many parts skill and a few parts luck.  But which would be the greater achievement for the men?  It’s easy to fall on either side of the argument.

Bobby Jones won golf’s Grand Slam in 1930.  Rod Laver captured tennis’ in 1962 and 1969.  The requirements and playing conditions, however, have changed.  Golf’s four majors are now the Masters, U.S. Open, British Open and PGA, all decided by stroke play.  The four majors of tennis have remained the same but are contested on three different playing surfaces: hard, grass and clay.

With this in mind, let’s pit the two Grand Slams against each other on a four-part rubric to see which one earns a higher degree of difficulty.

1. Playing Conditions

Tennis

Two slams on hard courts sandwich one on clay and one on grass.  Each surface favors a different style of play.  Dominant serve and volleyers like John McEnroe and Pete Sampras could never jump the French Open hurdle.  Even the most versatile player the game has ever seen, Roger Federer, has only cracked the French nut once.  He’s come up short four times at Roland Garros after winning in Australia, each time to a clay court specialist. 

On the other hand, dirtballer Rafael Nadal won the last three majors of 2010 but couldn’t capture the Australian on hard courts.  No surprise that he was denied the “Rafa Slam” this year at the same venue.

Bottom line: Hard, clay and grass mix about as well as Peter, Paul and Mary J. Blige.

Golf

The U.S. Open and the PGA are analogous to the hard courts of Australia and Flushing Meadows—not quite the same, but similar.  The Masters used to be its own animal, just like Wimbledon.  But added length and layers of rough have edged it closer to the penal nature of the U.S. Open and PGA.  The British Open is the anomaly then.  Quirky courses, sun one minute and sideways rain the next, and a premium on playing in the wind and creativity. 

Jack Nicklaus won the Masters and the U.S. Open in 1972, only to come up one stroke short in the British Open.  He lost to wind wizard Lee Trevino.  Ditto for Tiger Woods in 2002.  With the first two majors in hand he succumbed to abysmal weather at Muirfield and finished tied for 28th. 

Bottom line: With decent British Open weather, major golf courses are more similar than major tennis surfaces.

Degree of Difficulty Edge: Tennis

2. The Fluke Factor

Tennis

In tennis the cream rises to the top.  Fed and Rafa have won 21 of 23 (soon to be 24) majors, and right now there are just a few players capable of winning one major let alone four straight. 

There is no way a guy ranked, say, 50th in the world, could sneak up and win a major.  That’s because that guy is Victor Hanescu.  To win a major he’d have to knock out three or four of the tops guys in the world head to head.  Never gonna happen. 

Because there are just a handful of top players, winning 28 straight matches in majors by the Top Dog seems doable, particularly because tennis is played head to head.  Top Dog gets a few favorable draws, avoids a nemesis or two on his weakest surface, and pulls it off.  What if Rafa had gotten hurt before the 2006 or 2007 French?  Federer would surely have a Slam.     

Bottom line: Lack of depth and head-to-head format helps big time.

Golf

Exact opposite.  To win all four majors a player would have to beat approximately 550 golfers in a row.  Good luck with so much parity.  Eight of the top 20 golfers in the world have won at least one major.  It’s half that number for tennis.  There are at least 25 golfers who have a legitimate shot to win a major this year. 

Even Tiger, who was in absolute top form in 2000 and seemed to be able to put a hex on his fellow competitors although he wasn’t playing directly against them, couldn’t get the Slam.  Another world-class player, Vijay Singh, edged him at the Masters. 

Add to this golf’s fluke factor.  Golf majors produce more one-hit wonders than the music industry.  It’s simply the fickle nature of the game.  Steve Jones—1996 U.S. Open.  Rich Beem—2002 PGA.  Ben Curtis—2003 British Open.  Shaun Micheel—2003 PGA.  The list is endless. 

In 2005 Tiger won the Masters but finished runner-up in the U.S. Open to Michael Campbell.  That’s the same Michael Campbell who now can’t break 90. 

Bottom line: Potential major winners include studs AND duds. 

Degree of Difficulty Edge: Golf

3. Health/Injury

Tennis

A total grind.  Brutal on the knees, elbows, and so on.  Justine Henin was forced to retire this week at age 28.  Juan Martin del Potro blistered the field at the 2009 U.S. Open only to be relegated to the bench for most of the 2010 season with a wrist injury. 

Even Nadal, a specimen of physicality, saw his hopes for a “Rafa Slam” end last week with what appeared to be a thigh injury.  Before that, what could have been a true Grand Slam for Rafa never had the chance to materialize because he had to retire with bad knees at the 2010 Australian.  Who knows what might have been if he had been healthy the whole year. 

Bottom line: You can’t win 28 major matches in a row unless you’re 99 percent healthy or better. 

Golf

Professional golfers have made a stronger commitment to fitness in recent years.  But let’s face it, the physical stamina required to win a golf major pales in comparison to tennis. 

Tiger won the 2008 U.S. Open on a broken leg!  John Daly won two majors chain-smoking.  Same for Angel Cabrera.  A 59-year-old Tom Watson came within two inches of winning the 2009 British Open.  That would have been like Stan Smith winning Wimbledon. 

Most golfers injure themselves away from the golf course doing things like snowboarding and playing pick-up basketball.  And while the torque of a golf swing can do a number on the back, the likelihood of a serious golf-related injury interfering with a Grand Slam run is minimal.

Bottom line: A round of golf is a leisurely five-mile stroll.  With a caddy!

Degree of Difficulty Edge: Tennis 

4. The Nature of the Two Sports

Tennis

I think anyone who has played golf and tennis at a high level would argue tennis is a much easier sport to play well.  An average athlete can pick up a tennis racket and learn the basic strokes in a short period of time.  And if weekend warrior Joe Smith can consistently hit decent ground strokes, imagine how easy it is for the pros to master the seven or eight tennis strokes.  Put it this way: Paul Annacone doesn’t teach Roger Federer how to hit a forehand.

Once a tennis player develops a dominant shot it becomes permanent.  It’s not like John Isner leads the field in aces per match at the Australian and then forgets how to toss the ball at the French.  Same with Andy Murray’s backhand and Rafa’s forehand.  These strokes are consistently outstanding.  And consistency means everything when trying to make a Slam run.

Bottom line: The strokes of tennis are simple and easy to repeat.  And you only have to use one stick. 

Golf

Total opposite.  In no other professional sport do “abilities” change so fast.  David Duval was the top-ranked player in the world in 1999.  A few years later he was a 20 handicap.  Then a few years after that he almost won the U.S. Open.  You rarely see such swings in tennis.  And certainly not from the top players. 

A primary cause of the ups and downs stems from the complexity of the golf swing.  It requires so many moving parts that must fire in perfect unison to make a little ball fly straight.  Even the tiniest variation—adjustment of hip angle, swaying of the head, tightness of grip—can turn a PGA round from a 68 to a 76. 

There’s a reason the instructional books dominate the golf shelves at Barnes and Noble...golf is really hard!  Tiger didn’t hire Sean Foley for help with his on-course strategy.  Foley's retooling Tiger’s swing.  Put it this way: challenge an average athlete who’s never played tennis or golf to hit a forehand in the court and a seven iron a mere 100 yards.  Which is more likely to happen on the first try?

Ironically, the golf shot that plays the largest role in majors and seems the most repeatable—putting—is the primary source of inconsistency for professionals.  It’s because putting requires fine motor skills that are more susceptible to pressure than your standard rip it and grip it shot, like, say, a John Daly drive or a Novak Djokovic forehand; also, because the nature of putting is so complex. 

You’ve got lag putts, four-footers, 20-footers, 40-footers, left to right, right to left, uphill, downhill, putting form the fringe, putting slow greens, putting fast green, reading grain and so on.  It’s no wonder Phil Mickelson pays Dave Pelz more money per year than I’ll make in a lifetime for “putting” lessons.

A professional golfer can lose his putting stroke faster than Spinks lost to Tyson.  He can lead the field in total putting one week and finish dead last the next.  Mickelson putted out of his mind when he won his first major, the 2004 Masters.  Two months later he had the second major of the year in his grasp, until he started missing three-foot putts on the back nine at Shinnecock.  Same thing for Phil in 2010.  Won at Augusta, and had a shot at Pebble, but he couldn’t buy a putt down the stretch.

Maybe Tom Watson would have made a run at a Grand Slam if not for a case of the yips.  Same with Johnny Miller and Ben Hogan.  Even Tiger Woods, one of the two greatest putters of all time, isn’t immune to putting woes.  In 2010 he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a flat stick.  Doesn’t happen with Andy Roddick and serves. 

And putting is just the beginning.  Off the tee you can hit a driver, three wood, five wood or hybrid.  Long iron swings are different than short iron swings.  Long bunker shots are different than short ones.  Pitching is different than chipping.  Bent grass is different than Bermuda grass. 

Putting is paramount, but the variety of shots needed to win majors is as comprehensive as it is mind-boggling.  You can drive it perfectly and lead the field in greens in regulation and still finish in a tie for 83rd if you’re last in total putting.  Firing on all cylinders is rare in golf.  Doing it four times in one year under the toughest conditions is downright impossible. 

Bottom line: Golf can become a good walk spoiled really fast.

Degree of Difficulty Edge: Golf

And the Winner Is…

What’s ironic about the whole debate is that it’s much easier to win a single golf major than a tennis major.  History proves this point in a landslide.  But it’s this same reality—golf’s fluke factor (along with its complexity)—that makes golf the tougher Grand Slam to accomplish.  In the past 10 years only Tiger Woods has won three majors in the same year.  Compare that to Federer, who won three in 2004, 2006 and 2007, and Rafa, who won three in 2010. 

If a Grand Slam is coming in the future, it’s going to happen on the tennis court.