How cool is Juan Martín Del Potro? Not only is his name as fun to say as Chattanooga is to write, but his distinct black and gold livery gives him the appearance of a 6’ 6” Argentinean bumble-bee with issues, plying his trade as a racket-wielding bandit. He looks like Lucky Luke without the Lucky Strike. He may not have the cigarette, but he’s sure as hell got the fire power as he demonstrated by out-gunning Roger Federer in the US Open final.
For years I have loved Federer. Genuinely loved him. I don’t fancy him, per se, but one swoosh of his well-kempt curls and I start acting like Sue Barker whenever David Ginola looks at her.
And that’s just embarrassing. I mean, for God’s sake! Ginola would totally go for Sue if she’d just ask him out He’s French and hung like a horse for crying out loud. He’s not going to turn down the 1976 French open champion. Or anyone in a skirt for that matter…
As indisputably wonderful as Federer has been over the past decade, there came a point when his total dominance of all slams but the French started to grate on a few in the know, and led them to suggest that his bulldozing of the opposition was little more than a formality due to the lack of talent out there to slow down his race to a record number of majors. There was, of course, Nadal, but until that epic Wimbledon final, his ability to win on anything other than clay, and do so in consistent enough fashion to win a grand slam, was questionable. But then he proved his critics wrong and set about making Roger cry like a little girl at every opportunity. After that somewhat cringe worthy period in Federer’s career, which I like to term ‘the collapse’, the boy from Basel has bounced back, snaring that elusive French open with a cool-headed win over Sweden’s Robin Söderling – the first, and thus far only, man to beat Nadal at Stade Roland Garros. With Nadal’s knees giving him enough gip to make an early retirement a legitimate possibility, Federer was expected to stockpile trophies wholesale.
Britain’s Andy Murray seems to have his number in all tournaments but the ones anyone who doesn’t follow tennis cares about, which is refreshing, but with the King of Clay either on the sidelines or unable to reach them in his usual battling style while on court, there seemed little in Federer’s way when it came to the majors.
And then the bad-ass bumble-bee from Tandil came along. He’s tall, rangy, powerful, fast, deft, combative and, best of all, possesses a temperament that stands up nicely to the unflappable demeanours of the world 1 and 2. He won the US at 21. Twenty bloody one and already that good. I know we’ve had false dawns aplenty in sport – tennis is no exception – but a tour that boasts tournament winning talent in the form of Murray, Federer, Nadal, Djokovic, A-Rod and now Del Potro, means a whetted appetite is now as common as strawberries and cream at SW19.
So who benefits from Del Potro’s rise to the top? Well, him, obviously, but the man who stands to gain the most is old Roger.
Think back to the last time Tennis experienced a Golden era. I’d say it can be found in the heart of the eighties: Borg; Connors; McEnroe; Becker; Lendl; Edberg. The list goes on. What was great about that era? The match-ups; the rivalries; the iconic battles that inspired a generation. Sure, none of those guys came close to matching the sheer wealth of titles Federer has already amassed, but maybe theirs were worth more due to the level of competition. But thanks to JM Del Potro people might not say that when they look back on Federer’s career and count back over the high profile losses: the 5 setter to Nadal at Wimbledon; the 5 setter to Nadal in Melbourne; the 5 setter to Del Potro at Flushing Meadows, and realise that each one, however heart-rending it was at the time, was perhaps more valuable than the ones that went his way.
Winning is all well and good, but without a loss or two to put things in perspective, victory can lose its value.
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