Wimbledon's Trilogy of Five-Set Finals, 2007-9: Part 3

The events of 2008 were to carry over dramatically into the season of 2009.

Nadal’s epic triumph over Federer at Wimbledon had marked a watershed moment in men’s tennis, a shifting in the power struggle at the very top of the game. A win in Australia, over Federer, only further asserted this—he had reduced the great man to tears.

A calendar slam beckoned for Nadal, as it looked as if the great Swiss was finished, banished and never again to return to his former, glorious self; then, a swift turn in events occurred at the French Open, Nadal’s traditional fortress par excellence. He had been unbeaten in 31 matches until he met the unflappable Swede Robin Soderling, but there, on an uproarious day, he lost.

Here, finally, was Federer’s great chance to win his first French Open, and he would do so, snatching unflinchingly the title in a straight sets demolition of Soderling in the final.

So, Wimbledon had come again, the scene of his tragic loss a year before. Yet finally, he would not have to enter it quizzed about the problem of the French Open, his losses at which tournament having exerted unnecessary mental baggage heading into the All-England Club. Instead, he was confident, and indeed, on a 12 match winning streak; and everyone knew, of course, that he was the king of grass.

His progress through the draw was uneventful, if only to re-establish his growing resurgence. In the final, he faced a familiar foe, if only to emphasise the sense of the return of the old guard that had characterised his victories over Haas, Karlovic and Soderling in the rounds before—Andy Roddick, his one-time rival and pseudo nemesis.

Pseudo-nemesis, of course, is perhaps pejorative, but equally, not untrue. The American, for all his recent streak of hot form, culminating in a victory in four sets over Britain’s hope Andy Murray in the semifinals, held a dismal 2-18 record against Federer—with three of those losses coming at this very venue, in 2003, 04 and 05.

But every match was a new day, a new opportunity. Roddick sized himself up for the challenge—his serve, and improved backhand, had proven danger plays the last thirteen days.

So it proved, early on the in the final.

Federer was gunning for his 15^th slam title, an opportunity to inscribe his name in history by breaking Pete Sampras’ record of 14; Roddick seemed just the perfect opponent to wrap up what had been a fantastic and unworldly run to 15.

Yet in the opening set Roddick revealed himself to be a match for Federer on serve, regularly holding to love, and while making few deep inroads on Federer’s serve, allowed no looks on the return for the Swiss.

Then, at 5-5, Federer raised the tempo, conjuring some break points.

A close forehand down the line, which looked like the decisive shot for the break, proved out under the scrutiny of Hawkeye; Roddick managed to hold, and an increasingly pressured Federer, as he served at 5-6 to stay in the set for a second time, suffered a brief, but costly blip, caused no doubt by his missed forehand on break point as by the nerves of expectation. A set point arose, to the surprise of the crowd. Roddick would convert seconds later, off a confused looking Federer forehand error.

Roddick hadn’t taken the first set off Federer since the 2004 final, when he had blasted the Swiss off for a 6-4 victory.

Here, however, the stakes were far higher, the history more beckoning, the error more costly. Roddick no doubt was playing more determinedly than he did five years ago, but Federer, too, had visibly buckled under the pressure of expectation. This was supposed to be a routine straight sets victory, to cap off a dominant Wimbledon fortnight.

A response was expected the second, naturally; but there was little even Federer could do against the Roddick serve.

As the second got tighter, it became increasingly clear that Roddick’s serve was defining epic, however the score should go, so accurate and consistent was it proving.

Nonetheless, the second set came to a tiebreak. For Federer, of course, winning it was utterly crucial—he hadn’t come back from two sets to love down last year, and, especially against the Roddick serve, it seemed unlikely that he would do so again this year.

Remarkably, and to the collective shock and stupefaction of the crowd, Roddick proved the stronger, and earned for himself a seemingly impregnable 6-2 lead.

The first Federer saved on an idiosyncratically nonchalant backhand flick. It would prove the flick, so characteristic of his inhumanly flexible wrist, of his career. Two good serves later it was up to Roddick to serve, again, for he set—contriving an easy backhand volley off an aggressive slice approach, he allowed into his mind the thoughts which any two-time finalist should never have allowed himself, and mishit it badly.

If ever there was a shot in tennis which epitomised nerves, having meant so much and yet brought so little, it would have been this miss. As with Federer’s missed forehand in the first set, albeit with more going for it, things happened quickly again; Federer capitalised quickly, and claimed the second with a whelp of triumph.

Order seemed restored, after this first dramatic phrase; Federer would bounce back and begin to dominate, as he had in 2004.

Roddick, however, proved a rare challenge that day, being only edged in the third set tiebreak, having with his serve matched Federer’s improving play. A fourth beckoned, and it seemed that Federer would, finally, earn the break of serve he needed to seal victory.

Resistance, however, was Roddick’s watchword, too close had he come to fail now in four; with stunning perseverance and courage, he mustered break points on Federer’s serve in the fourth game, and to the shock, even of Federer, converted with a backhand shelled down the line, which even Federer couldn’t handle.

The match, then, had turned back and forth, going Roddick’s, then Federer’s, and now again Roddick’s, way.

For the most part the shotmaking failed, of course, to match, to say nothing of eclipse, the sort of artistry the crowd had come to expect in Federer-Nadal finals.

Yet here was a familiar match, Federer duelling a familiar foe, on a familiar stage. It was the novelty of seeing something old and bygone return in a new, enhanced form, of Roddick, who had on countless occasions been schooled by Federer, finally give him a match worthy winning, and fighting for.

His serve had worked in a way similar to Nadal’s topspin forehand against the Federer backhand, in its relentless irresistibility. The fourth set went to serve, and Roddick, as he had done the last twenty-three times, held serve.

He would play, for the first time, a fifth set against Roger Federer.

At this point, of course, it was very much Federer’s match to lose—it was his third fifth set in a row in a Wimbledon final, having split the first two. This time, of course, he was much more highly favoured to win, and to do what no one else had achieved, in winning 15 grand slams. Few, nonetheless, could have expected the outcome of the fifth set.

Federer managed a few break points on Roddick’s serve in the second game, but, again, his customary fragility, along with some brave serving, saw Roddick hold.

Federer’s serve, of course, was well-oiled, and, besides Roddick’s monstrous delivery, quiet and workman-like in its efficiency. Little would have been foreseen of the test of efficiency and serving stamina that the fifth would demand, however; holds of serve came and went, and for neither player was there so much as a sniff of break.

They were masters of the that all-important win-the-first-point rule, and all too often love holds, or games to fifteen, actualised.

It was monotonous viewing, but spectacular in its statistical and historical import—no fifth set had lasted so long in a grand slam final.

For Federer there was a moment of anxiety at 8-8, when he faced 15-40; but from there he played a love game, as he won the next four points to edge ahead again. Every little trouble, for either player, was but the tiniest ripple in a wider tapestry of serving brilliance, for it would all too quickly be erased by yet another unreturnable.  

In truth, the match could compare little with last year’s final, in shotmaking drama or consistent excitement; indeed as the set went beyond twenty games it looked increasingly likely that this match would prove another addition to Federer’s catalogue of grand slam woes, as he failed to capitalise on crucial opportunities, with nervous shots going wayward. Roddick’s serving was brilliant, but Federer’s return off par, and betraying uncertainty.

At the end, it was a match of attrition, as with last year’s. It would prove taxing physically, as Roddick slowly succumbed to the pressure of the moment, and the inevitable tiredness of arm, to shank, at last, after nearly five hours, his final forehand, on Federer’s championship point.

There was no collapse to the ground, no noticeable exhalation of victory, for victory had come too frighteningly close to defeat.

Instead, it was a boyish leap of joy—the only appropriate reaction to what had been, in all reality, a thriller. It was a teenage moment for Federer’s most defining moment, so curious, and unusual, had this match been. That he had been at the brink of defeat against Roddick, only to win in a thriller, was perhaps the Federer equivalent of an aspiring junior earning his first win on the pro tour.

Of course, most will remember this match mainly for what it meant for Federer, to win six Wimbledons, a fifteenth slam, and regain the world number one ranking, all in one day.

It had been, however, also a fitting finale to three fine years of five set finals at the All-England Club, and especially, off a fifth set that no-one had ever thought would end.

With its demise was the end of a trilogy in men’s tennis, that had been sparked off two years previously, with Nadal’s gritty determination—in these three years tennis saw the rise and triumph of Nadal, at the heady expense of Roger Federer, only to witness, and in its longest grand slam fifth set ever, the return of the king.

Wimbledon had been at the heart of it all, being the greatest and clearest mirror, as it were, of the fortunes of the game of tennis.