A couple of days ago, against my better judgement, I tuned in to watch Tottenham v Everton. If you subscribe to the theory that sport should first and foremost entertain, and you’re somewhat familiar with both teams’ recent performances, you will know that this might have been an ill-conceived decision on my part. To put it bluntly, it may actually be a blessing that fans weren’t allowed to travel to watch it live. I certainly felt disappointed enough from the comfort of my own sofa.
The history of sport is full of great events, the kind of matches that are talked about for years after they happened. The Miracle of Istanbul with Liverpool’s great comeback against AC Milan, Germany’s annihilation of Brazil at the 2014 World Cup that, at the time, felt like brutal reshuffling of the world order of football, that Wimbledon final in 2008 when Rafa Nadal took 4 hours and 48 minutes to ascertain his tennis dominance over Roger Federer in a match that, by the end, was played in near pitch darkness. Yet for every unforgettable sporting event, there are a dozen Tottenham v Evertons. A few years ago, I went to the ATP Finals in London to watch the rising star of tennis, Dominic Thiem, take on Roger Federer, expecting a dazzling contest, only to witness Roger dispatch with his opponent 6:2 6:3 in a little over an hour.
Daniil Medvedev started 2019 like a man on a mission. Over the course of the year, he had won two Masters titles and strung up six consecutive tournament final appearances which saw him break into the top 10 in the world rankings. And then there was his US Open run. The volatile Russian, already seeded number 5 at the time, navigated through a tricky draw to set up a meeting with world number 2 Rafa Nadal in the final. Throughout the tournament, Medvedev displayed, in equal measures, feats of tennis brilliance and a stellar mental game that saw him claw back into a number of razor-edge matches. More interestingly, however, he had also shown a rather bold approach to dealing with the famously vociferous US Open crowd. The fans in New York are known to wear their hearts on their sleeves and are very vocal about their sympathies and the things they consider right. An angry comment or gesture from a player is enough to set them off. The wise players keep their head down and block out the noise. In case of Daniil, he gave as good as he got, receiving several warnings throughout the tournament and picking up $9,000 in fines for unsportsmanlike conduct. At one point, he gave the crowd the finger. Come the final, he had to battle through the indomitable Spaniard as well as the general tennis-loving public. And he almost did so in a spectacular fashion. Although he had ultimately lost the match, coming very close to being the first Next Gen player to win a Grand Slam trophy, he had definitely won over the hearts of the fans in attendance. By the end, he was cheered and applauded as he gave his runner up speech. The tension, atmosphere and the seesaw nature of the final placed it amongst the greatest tennis matches of the past few years. When later in the year, Daniil was again to meet Rafa at the ATP Finals in London, I jumped at the opportunity to witness live what promised to be a remarkable rematch.
I arrived at the O2 Arena early enough to grab a snack and settled down in my seat for the spectacle to follow. Lights dimmed, music blasted from the speakers and the announcer called out the names of the players as they came out on court to warm up. The match took off to a blistering start, and from the get-go, both men were playing tennis at the highest level. It wasn’t quite the stuff that promised to go into the tennis annals but it definitely did not disappoint. The first set went the whole length and had to be decided in a tightly contested tiebreak after 55 minutes of swashbuckling tennis (7:6 [3]). One of Nadal’s great strengths, however, is that he doesn’t let failures weigh him down. He recovered quickly and kicked off the second set with a break of Medvedev’s serve. Both men dug deep into the match and started firing at each other from deep within their baseline bunkers until 5:3 when Rafa broke Daniil again to claim the second set.
At the start of the third, something had changed. Medvedev, already playing at the ridiculously high level that guided him through a brilliant summer, reached into his bottomless bag of tricks and pulled out a handful of magic dust. At that point in the match, Nadal had not missed a single ball at the net. In the first game of the third set, Daniil put two past him. If that was even possible, Medvedev kicked his game into yet another gear. He chased down every point and defended like a man possessed, flying off to a 4:0 lead. In his head, he might have been replaying the US Open final rather than contesting a fairly inconsequential match.
At 5:2 up in the third set, as Medvedev was about to serve for the win with a seemingly unbreakable hold on the match, I committed the cardinal sin of sport watching. Before the players finished their break, I got up and left early to beat the crowds. In my mind the game all but done and dusted, I stopped at a sandwich shop on my way out of the venue. As I considered the food, the girl behind the counter gasped. I thought her excited reaction meant she was recommending the chicken sandwich. In reality, behind me, on a large screen, Nadal was saving a matchpoint and breaking Medvedev’s serve. On an empty train back home, I tucked into my snack and congratulated myself on the astute decision to leave early. All the while inside the O2 Arena, Rafa was turning what was already a good match into a great one.
It wasn’t until I got home that I checked the score. To my horror, I discovered that Nadal had not only managed to turn the tide but had gone on to win the match. For the rest of the day and the better part of the week, I did my best to avoid news but, wherever I looked, excitedly written headlines seemed to be mocking my ill sense of judgement.
I have learned from that experience. Great players have the ability to turn matches around through the sheer power of belief. On this particular occasion, Rafa believed just a little bit more than Daniil or I did. And it paid off.
We all dream of scoring the big one. Of witnessing sport history as it happens so that we can proudly tell others: “I was there”. In our search for that Holy Grail, sometimes we hit a blank. And sometimes, as it turns out, we can’t recognise greatness even if it unfolds before our eyes. Which, in my case, it was.