Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, Australian Open 2011: A Changing of the Guard?

We have been witness to some scintillating tennis and shocking dramatic news over the past fortnight—not the most significant of which would be such items as Justine Henin's second retirement, or Li Na's run to the final as the first Asian player ever to reach such a stage.

On the men's side, however, the shocks reverberated far more deeply and poignantly. Djokovic's triumph, with the loss of only two sets throughout the whole tournament, demolishing Andy Murray in the final, along with his straight sets victories over Roger Federer in the final, signalled the thunderous re-awakening of the young guard. But above all, it was the inability of top dogs and long-time titans Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal to even so much as reach the final, much less win the Australian Open, that was most startling.

It was first time in three years, since the Australian Open of 2008, that neither has been in a grand slam final, as only the third time thus far in the last eight years. Of course, such a stat may be of both relief and distress to the concerned tennis, especially Federer and Nadal, fan. It would suggest that this sort of thing has rarely happened, and is unlikely to happen. Yet it just happened. Neither Federer nor Nadal reached the final, and thus won the Australian Open.

Before getting into the issue of how significant it is, it may be noted that again, for the eighth straight year for Federer, and now the third year for Nadal since his crowning as No. 1, neither of them will win the Calendar Grand Slam (that elusive and increasingly unrealistic, yet all the more necessary, measure of GOATness).

For Nadal, his loss in the quarterfinals would probably be more galling. He had lost here at the same round last year to Andy Murray and would have expected to go at least one better, if not reclaim the title he won in 2009. Moreover, he was going for that unique "Rafa Slam," as Serena Williams had achieved in 2002-03, of winning four straight grand slams, and thus nominally the winner of the Grand Slam, in some pretense of Laver's own more authentic achievement.

Had Nadal won in Australia, of course, discussion could only have shifted towards his legacy in tennis as the potential GOAT, perhaps (gasp) one even more so than the Mighty Federer. But his storied run had been plagued by injury from the start of the tournament—a sickness, which inclined him to suggest that it would be "impossible" to win in Australia this year. So he turned out to be true, humble and ever-the-best gauge of reality as he is, losing in straight sets to David Ferrer 6-4, 6-2, 6-3.

What was most worrying about his loss was the manner of it—again, the rankling thoughts of injury and feeble knees spring up. Ferrer would have been a worthy opponent, but hardly one to topple the world No. 1 at full flight. One ugly and saddening fact about Nadal, increasingly evident in his last few seasons, but especially in that loss, is the incredible disparity between his tennis at his best, and at his worst; at full fitness he can outplay anyone, including his mighty rival Federer, but plagued by an injury he is anyone's fodder. Whether this loss is significant in the long run, of course, is another issue.

Bu how about Federer? How he might have thought his chances of title defense much greater in the aftermath of the fall of his great Spanish nemesis in the quarterfinals. Until, of course, he found a new one—Novak Djokovic. The pretentious and ambitious Serb had beaten him in their last Grand Slam meeting at the US Open, and three years previously in Melbourne, too, in straight sets. Revenge, so the tennis bard might have proclaimed, was nigh. But it was not to be.

In fact Federer wouldn't win a set in the semifinals, falling 7-6, 7-5, 6-4. The skeptic and ardent fan of some years ago would have said that Federer must have played a terrible match. Yet, and by his own admission, he hadn't—in fact, he was striking the ball well, and in fact played well, just not well enough at the crucial moments, and not well enough to win.

It is poignant to recall that just four years ago Federer thrashed the then upcoming Djokovic in the fourth round 6-2, 7-5, 6-3, before losing the next six sets he would play against the Serb in Australia. Moreover, it is now his second straight loss to him at a major, a feat only equalled by Nadal, who has beaten Federer thrice in a row in grand slams (2008-09).

Federer at his best used to be unbeatable, but now, and most singly, it is not so. Djokovic, in his match, played the sort of tennis that Federer used to play against his own seniors—against Agassi or Hewitt, for instance, midway through last decade. But how should we judge his loss, and Nadal's loss in the context of tennis history?

Did we witness an epochal shift in the power struggle atop men's tennis? Was the Australian Open 2011 the scene of that hallowed and monumental event—the changing of the guard? Federer had signalled this to Sampras at Wimbledon in 2001 and, many argued, Nadal Federer at Wimbledon in 2008. But I can only, as objective as an observer as I may try to be, suggest that talk of a changing of the guard, the shift from the domination by Federer and Nadal to that of Djokovic and Murray, last Sunday's finalists, may be shortsighted for some reasons.

Firstly, it is often unwise to judge long stretches of time, and potentially a player's legacy, in just single matches and games. Surely, Nadal and Federer both lost in straight sets, but they had done that in 2008, only to inaugurate the most glorious period in their rivalry. Moreover, Nadal, on the positive side, was hardly playing at the top of his game.

As much as we might suggest that injury hindered him and may hinder him, until future performances reveal such it is hard at this point to gauge how well Nadal may potentially play, over the next two-week grand slam stretch, should he recover full fitness.

As for Federer, similar allegations of decline have been made, consistently and almost continuously, over the last three, four years, and often he has rebounded to the surprise of many. Winning at the US Open in 2008, or at the French in 2009, are two prime instances of Federer Reborn. His loss to DJokovic, moreover, wasn't entirely one-sided; he was up 5-2 in the second and lost crucial points, which, had he won, might have brought momentum in his favour.

I think at this point in Federer's career we can safely rule out the ridiculous—the dominant stretches of 2004-07 are most likely over. At 29 every win, and tournament victory is valuable and simply to be cherished for what it is. The critic and shortsighted would necessarily have forgotten, of course, that Federer had won four of his last five tournaments coming to Melbourne; a bad day spoilt all that. As fans we can only get used to more bad days in Federer's next few years.

Secondly, as great players as Djokovic and Murray have been, it is the longevity factor, possibly, which may prove most decisive. Often fans and commentators rush to conclusions from the outcomes of single matches and losses—while it true some do hold considerable significance (who would doubt this about Wimbledon 2008?), I am inclined to believe that unless Djokovic continues this golden run for the next 12 months at least, and definitively emerges as the dominant force in men's tennis, he is going to have down periods on which Federer or Nadal will capitalise.

He can only hope such a down period doesnt't happen at the Roland Garros-Wimbledon stretch of the season. The same goes for Murray, and all the other young challengers biting at the heels of the big two. Indeed there is no doubt that the top five are incredibly competitive among each other; Murray destroyed Federer, it may be recalled, at Shanghai last year, 6-3, 6-2. But how significant would such victories be? How significant can Djokovic's straight sets win be?

The problem for the challengers, I think, is this: To definitively transition into a new era in tennis, beyond the hold and dominion of Federer and Nadal, something greater has to be in the offering. So great is the legacy and reputation of the two, so imposing are their figures, that simultaneous defeats at the same grand slam are unlikely to dent such stores of confidence and belief as they hold.

A true successor would have to transcend Federer and Nadal, and establish a new sort of rule over tennis—whether this should happen is yet to be seen. For the top two victory and defeat, as it is famously inscribed at Wimbledon, are simply the same impostor.

While it is no doubt that the Australian Open 2011 was a shock, and certainly in some aspects unprecedented, it is unlikely to have the devastating impact some people may envisage. Federer and Nadal are not necessary the best anymore, but they are the greats, which is enough to put an asterisk against any allegation of their permanent decline and fall. It is likely to be enough to keep them in the hunt for at least the next few years yet.