“The truth is forced upon us, very quickly, by a foe,” the ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes wrote, and that was perhaps never truer than of tennis’ “Big Four” — Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray. They were, strictly speaking, not foes — which implies an element of enemies, along with cross and double-cross — but rather opponents and especially rivals in the glorious first three decades of this century, when they won 69 Slam titles and three of the last four gold medals in men’s singles at the Summer Olympics (Nadal in 2008, Murray in ’12 and ’16 and Djokovic this year).
People talk about Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz and their contrasting temperaments and talents — Apollonian ice versus Dionysian fire respectively — which may ultimately eclipse the four. But I predict that when the history of tennis is finished, fans will look back at the Big Four as the likes of which we never saw again.
It’s fun to think of them as the original Fab Four, the Beatles, with Federer as John Lennon, Nadal as Paul McCartney, Djokovic as George Harrison and Murray as Ringo Starr. That synergy has been uppermost in fans’ minds since Nadal retired Tuesday, Nov. 19, after a loss in the David Cup in Malaga, Spain, and a hot-on-its-heels announcement from Djokovic that Murray will coach him as he attempts to win his 25th Slam at the Australian Open Jan. 12 through 26.
We begin with Nadal, who like the others offers a reminder that how people appear may not necessarily be the way they are. With his long hair and longer shorts, muscle Ts and bandanas, Nadal burst on the professional scene as a prodigy in 2001 at age 14. His magnetic, macho pirate king soon challenged Federer’s elegant preppy prince. That early rivalry produced such classics as the 2008 Wimbledon final that Nadal won and belied a fast friendship. But in truth, whatever the friendship was — and there is no reason to doubt the emotion that flowed when they played doubles and lost in the Laver Cup in September 2022 as Federer retired — there is no denying that the relationship always had a marketing aspect to it. (Consider their recent Louis Vuitton campaign.)
In reality, Federer — as self-possessed a person as you’re likely to meet — never wanted a rival and said so. Once when Nadal beat him, he sobbed, “It’s killing me,” for once Nadal got the upper hand, there was no give and take. It became a one-sided rivalry — more in the media than on the court.
A far better rivalry was to come in the bittersweet, almost Henry Jamesian irony of Nadal’s career, for no sooner had he emerged as world No. 1, having won three of the four Slams in 2010, than he was eclipsed by Djokovic, who would go on to become the defining male player of his generation. Theirs has been a true rivalry, with Djokovic holding a razor-thin edge, 31 to 29, as they played tournaments around the world, along with many exhibitions. (Djokovic once joked that he spent more time with Nadal than he did his wife or mother.) Experts point to the epic (nearly six-hour) 2012 Australian Open final, in which Djokovic finally prevailed, but a better example of their rivalry may have been the 2013 French Open semifinal that Nadal won, which John McEnroe described as the best clay court match he had ever seen.
Their relationship, which has also had a marketing dimension, has proved complex, cooling from days in hot tubs, nights at the Casino de Monte-Carlo and matches everywhere from Thailand to Colombia, once Djokovic emerged as the dominant player of their time.
"Rafael Nadal was Novak's best friend while he was winning,” said Djokovic’s father, Srdjan, a not-disinterested party. “When things changed, they were no longer friends.”
But put yourself in Nadal’s tennis shoes. You’re on top of Everest, only to find someone else has climbed up to claim the view.
If the pattern had held, Murray, who came to the fore right after Djokovic, would’ve in turn eclipsed him. But Murray was never as successful as the others — winning three Slams to Djokovic’s 24, Nadal’s 22 and Federer’s 20, although he outshone them at the Olympics. And just as a degenerative arthritic condition in his left foot colored Nadal’s career, so Murray’s 2018 hip replacement hampered his. It is a measure of this Fab Four’s greatness that they sailed forth through pain — and in Djokovic’s case also through controversy over his refusal to take the Covid vaccine.
Now Murray is coaching the man who is a week younger (Murray was born May 15, 1987, Djokovic, May 22) and a friendly rival since their junior days. (When they first met, Djokovic said he was eager to try out his English only to fail to understand Murray’s Scottish brogue.) Both survived childhood trauma — Murray, the Dunblane, Scotland, school shooting that killed a teacher and 16 children; and Djokovic, the NATO bombing of Serbia. With Djokovic facing his own sunset as he hunts for his 100th career win, as well as his 25th Slam, the pair — each smart, analytical, hard-working but also capable of being testy — might have a challenging time. It’s tough working for or with a friend. Imagine if that friend were a former rival.
When Nadal announced his retirement on Oct. 10, Djokovic said he hoped that one day they could share a drink on a beach and talk about what it all meant. What did it all mean? As Nadal and Spain lost unexpectedly in the Davis Cup quarterfinals, the other three were not on hand for his splapdash farewell ceremony, though they did send video paeans. But in a sense they were there on the court, each having helped shape the careers of the others as well as his own.
Aristophanes was right: A player doesn’t make a rival but he can be made by him. The Big Four revealed one another, and their fans are the better for it.