After a Difficult Loss, A Disillusioned Medvedev Emerges
On the eve of his Australian Open final against Rafael Nadal, Daniil Medvedev was asked about Nadal’s pursuit of a history-making 21st major title—and his own chance to once again play spoiler to a mouth-watering sporting achievement. His response was classic Medvedev: ‘I’m happy to have the chance to try to stop, one more time, somebody from making history.’ That other time, of course, was Novak Djokovic’s march to immortality, which Medvedev unceremoniously halted in the U.S. Open final last September.
After his excruciating loss to Nadal in the Australian Open final yesterday, though, a markedly different Medvedev emerged, cheeky grin and glinting eye replaced by a face etched in disillusionment. At his post-match press conference, Medvedev began with a rambling, sometimes incoherent narrative about his boyhood dreams of playing on the biggest stages, his early days on the pro tour, and his entry into the rarefied space occupied by three aging legends. The story ended with a startling declaration: ‘Today, the kid stopped dreaming.’
Post-match press conferences are mostly odious things, obligatory rituals imposed upon players in the throws of delight or despair, rarely yielding lasting insights. But Medvedev, who says he actually likes talking to journalists, came into press with an agenda: to say out loud what other players have felt, but never dared say, about what it’s like to be knocking on the door of the hallowed Big Three Club. “People were saying we really want the young generation to go for it, be stronger. Well, every time I stepped on the court in these big matches, I really didn’t see people that wanted me to win.”
There’s no denying that the rabidly pro-Nadal crowd at Rod Laver Arena occasionally crossed the line. Medvedev arrived on court to a chorus of boos. Boos!. Then, there was the odd clapping of a fault or error, but mostly, Medvedev’s brilliance during the first 2 sets was greeted with silence or sparse applause. That Rafa, a 6-time finalist, should have the crowd in his corner coudn’t have been a surprise to Daniil. At 35, coming off a foot injury that may well have ended his playing days, Nadal’s arrival at the final was already something of a miracle. When he went down 2 sets, the ending seemed all but assured for a man who had lost 5 finals over the span of a decade, twice while holding a lead in the 5th set.
Medvedev, on the other hand, didn’t exactly cover himself in glory during the fortnight, hurling insults at the umpire during his semi-final match with Stefanos Tsitsipas, cleverly disguising an expletive towards the official by calling him ‘a small cat.’ A verbal abuse violation would have been doled out for the intended ‘big pussy.’ Still, it was hard not to feel for him as the match began slipping away, and the crowd noise became deafening. Imagine being on the precipice of a crowning achievement, with 15,000 people willing you to fail.
Rafael Nadal, of all people, may be able to imagine. In 2004, 23 year-old Roger Federer had already been anointed emperor by the tennis cognoscenti when a teenaged Nadal came knocking, all fist-pumping bombast and long, stringy hair, audacious enough to believe his muscular lefty game could give the regal Federer fits. There weren’t many takers then. ”Who does this kid think he is?” was the prevailing sentiment. Nadal’s punishing style of tennis was supposed to ensure an amended career, his early dominance in the rivalry a mere footnote to Federer’s sublime artistry. Yet, here he was, 18 years into an injury-plagued career, wresting the championship away from an ascendant Medvedev, a decade his junior, a delirious stadium of fans pushing him over the finish line.
It will bring Medvedev no comfort to know that all he needs is an age-defying career, an unprecedented number of major titles—and nary a single embarassing outburst—and the crowd will be his.
Image credit: Martin Keep