Australian Open 2012: Djokovic wins after 6 hour battle

My fans know how much I like sport! Well did you watch yesterday's Aussie Open Final? One of the best ever! What a match ...

Australian Open 2012: Novak Djokovic wins battle of endurance to beat Rafael Nadal in near six-hour epic.

The unquenchable spirit met the unbreakable on Sunday when Novak Djokovic faced Rafael Nadal on Rod Laver Arena. It was certainly the longest, surely the hardest and arguably the greatest Grand Slam final in history. 


Monday Daily Telegraph 

The bare facts are that Djokovic won the Australian Open 5-7, 6-4, 6-2, 6-7, 7-5 in a match that lasted 5hr 53min. A marathon match for sure, except that this went far beyond that, into Iron Man territory.

One could only marvel at the players' endurance and athleticism. Remember that Djokovic had invested 4 hr 50 min in the tricky business of subduing Andy Murray on Friday night. To go back to the well after less than 48 hours' rest was a mind-boggling achievement. Goodness knows what his feet look like this morning.

Just because a match is long, it does not necessarily follow that the quality has to be high. The John Isner-Nicolas Mahut epic at Wimbledon two years ago was unfailingly one-dimensional.

But yesterday's final was full of pulsating points, including one breathless 32-stroke rally, at 5-4 in the final set, that drew a standing ovation from the crowd.

What will linger in the mind is the courage and the commitment of these two men. They are the masters of the anti-choke — that rare and admirable ability to strike the most penetrating shots when on the verge of defeat.

This explains why their past two Grand Slam encounters have been so bewilderingly changeable. The US Open final last September was a minor classic, running to 4 hr 10 min. But you could take the drama of that night at Flushing Meadows, square it, and still not come close to what we saw here.

The first set was the least memorable of the five. Djokovic did not quite have his forehand calibrated in those early exchanges, allowing Nadal to break him twice. Still, as they sat down to prepare for the second set, the match clock was already ticking round towards the 82 min that it took Victoria Azarenka to win the women's final on Saturday. The argument for equal pay has rarely looked so shaky.

In the second and third sets, Djokovic showed why he had beaten Nadal in their previous six meetings. He found his rhythm, and his peerless service return. The serve sits up higher on Melbourne's Plexicushion courts than it does anywhere else, and no one is better at ramming it back at his opponent's feet than Djokovic. Time and again, Nadal was forced to take his second shot on the half-volley.

"His return probably is one of the best in history," said a disbelieving Nadal after the match. "[He makes it] almost every time."

Djokovic cruised through the second and third sets, then moved to 4-3 in the fourth. He was bestriding the court, striking one shot in three from within the baseline, whereas the equivalent figure for Nadal — who was being forced so far back that the line-judges needed steel toecaps — was one in 20.

But the narrative had more twists left in it. At 0-40 down and facing three break points – effectively championship points — Nadal seemed to find a red button somewhere deep inside his psyche. He pressed it and went into overdrive, forsaking all caution and ripping winner after winner with that haymaker of a forehand. The meek figure of the previous two sets evaporated, and he began swinging his big left arm like a 500lb gorilla.

Djokovic's break points were quickly swept away, and Nadal snatched the ensuing tie-break to set up a final set. As he went down on his knees to celebrate, the Australian Open was already half-an-hour into its third week. Babysitters across Melbourne must have been holding their employers to ransom.

At this late phase, the players could have been forgiven for shanking a few shots, or declining to chase the wide balls. Instead they were producing Hollywood tennis, each stroke so powerful and well-aimed that television viewers must have wondered if there was CGI trickery at work.

The only sign of strain was the grimace etched on Nadal's face. Djokovic remained outwardly calm, although he could not help collapsing to the ground after losing that 32-shot rally late in the final set. He was cheered on by a vocal group of patriots, who held up an oil painting — done in the style of the Serbian Orthodox Church — of their hero as a saint.
Would Djokovic's nerve crack? Hardly, for it must be made of titanium. He lost his serve to concede a 4-2 lead, then broke straight back when Nadal did the unthinkable, missing an easy backhand putaway down the line.

This is the frightening thing about playing Djokovic: miss just one opportunity and you know he will make you pay. Here is a man who has no technical weaknesses, makes hardly any errors and will never back down mentally. The challenge is stark: play a perfect game, or expect to lose.

And Nadal did lose, as Djokovic broke him again, then served out the match, staving off one final break point with a huge inside-out forehand. The champion had defended his title, and he ripped his shirt off and clenched his biceps like a weightlifter on Muscle Beach.
All that was left was an excruciatingly prolonged awards ceremony, in which the sponsors droned on so long that someone thoughtfully produced a pair of chairs for the players halfway through.

Djokovic sat half-slumped, his features blank and his eyes staring glassily into the distance. It was the face of a man who had exhausted all his inner reserves.
But inside you knew he was satisfied. He had just delivered one of the greatest sporting performances of the age.

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