The sun is setting on the Big Three era

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It is a perfect day in Paris. A clear blue sky, a cooling breeze. At Roland Garros, the renowned tennis complex on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne, the sun pours in through the open roof at Court Philippe-Chatrier, bathing the famous red clay and two figures competing on it.

The Sunday afternoon match pits a little-known Peruvian, Juan Pablo Varillas, ranked 94th in the world, against possibly the best tennis player who ever lived, Novak Djokovic of Serbia. The capacity crowd in the 15,000-seat stadium likes the underdog, who had never won a match in the main draw of a Grand Slam tournament until this year’s fairytale run here at the French Open.

Cheers ring out when Varillas puts a rare shot past the impenetrable veteran. Boos follow when Djokovic makes a frustrated, “stupid-me” gesture, as if to slight the skill of his opponent. But this is a smart, court-wise group and they know genius when they see it.

Djokovic may be a vaccine refusenik, but he plays the game with a mastery that no one can deny. The crowd ooohs when he sends a perfectly measured drop shot just over the net to land on the other side like a wounded bird and ahhs when he slides on the clay to return another impossible-to-reach ball. It erupts into amazed applause when he sends a shot past Varillas with one of those chopping backhands that harnesses the power of his rival’s swing to send the ball rocketing back to him.

On the final point, he rushes the net and places a volley precisely in the far corner, calm as can be. The stadium erupts. “Novak, Novak, Novak.”

They know, as every tennis fan does, that they are witnessing the end of something. After years of anticipation, the era of the Big Three is drawing to a close. Roger Federer – if not the best then the most beautiful male player in the sport’s history – played his final match in 2022, breaking into tears as his great rival, Rafael Nadal, wept beside him courtside.

Nadal, whose statue stands at Roland Garros in tribute to his incredible 14 wins here, pulled out of his favourite tournament, marking the first time in 19 years that he will miss the French and the first since 1998 that neither he nor Federer have been present.

The King of Clay turned 37 on Saturday, a ripe old age for someone who makes a living pounding around a small square while pouring rivers of sweat. He has just undergone surgery for a bad hip, which will keep him out of competition for five months. Though a photo released by his people shows him smiling from his recovery bed, it is a bitter moment. His only hope is that he can heal enough to come back for a final lap on the tour next year, which he says will be his last.

And Djokovic? He just turned 36. His stubborn refusal to get vaccinated kept him out of several recent tournaments. He looked rusty this spring, losing to Holger Rune, a Danish whippersnapper, in Rome in the run-up to Roland Garros.

He looks back in form now and is still a favourite to win here, providing he can survive this week and get past the electrifying 20-year-old Spaniard Carlos Alcaraz, who has replaced him as world No. 1 (Djokovic is No. 3). If he did, he would break his tie with Nadal for most men’s Grand Slam wins and reach 23. In theory, he could go on winning for a few final years, but with young guns like Alcaraz breathing down his neck, the odds are against it.

Perhaps that is why the crowd at Philippe-Chatrier on Sunday had such mixed feelings. They were keen to watch the new generation strut its stuff, but sorry to see the retreat of the Big Three.

I have mixed feelings myself.

I became a tennis nut about the time that Federer and Nadal, then Djokovic, started dominating the sport. Federer won his first Grand Slam at Wimbledon in 2003, Nadal in Paris in 2005, Djokovic at the Australian Open in 2008. So the Big Three era has lasted fully two decades, as long as some of the young players on the tour have been alive.

Over that span, the three have won 64 of 78 Grand Slams. As the New York Times noted when Federer retired, he had spent 310 weeks as No. 1 in the world, while Djokovic had spent 373 weeks and Nadal 209. Federer had won 103 singles titles, Nadal 92 and Djokovic 88. It is hard to think of another sport that has ruled so few for so long.

That might sound dull for a fan – the same three at the top year after year. It was certainly a bit of a bore for great players like Andy Murray and Stan Wawrinka, who managed three Grand Slam wins each but might have won so many more without these three standing in their way, not to mention one-time winners such as Dominic Thiem or Juan Martin del Potro or all the other might-have-beens.

But, in fact, it has been a golden era for tennis watchers. We got to see three titans of the sport, each with a claim to be the best that ever was, competing at their peak.

Each was dazzling in his own way. Federer seemed to take flight when he hit one of his lashing backhands. Nadal’s arm flew over his head like a cowboy’s bullwhip when he smashed a forehand over the net. Supple-limbed Djokovic stretches and bends and jabs for the ball, a one-man Cirque du Soleil.

Pitted against each other, they were mesmerizing. The Big Three era meant three great rivalries: Nadal against Federer (Nadal took 24 matches, Federer 16), Djokovic against Nadal (Djokovic won 30 matches, Nadal 29) and Djokovic against Federer (Djokovic 27, Federer 23).

Some of the finest, fiercest tennis matches ever seen resulted. The five-set, four-hour, 48-minute duel between Nadal and Federer in 2008 that Nadal just managed to win as the evening light faded at Wimbledon. The even longer five-setter that Djokovic and Nadal played at the Australian Open in Melbourne and only ended, with Djokovic victorious, at nearly 2 in the morning. The final at the Australian Open in 2017 in which Federer, coming back from a knee injury, beat Nadal to take his first Grand Slam title in five years.

Even in their twilight, they shone. To mark Nadal’s birthday, someone posted a moment from Nadal’s semi-final confrontation at last year’s French Open over German Alexander Zverev, who eventually retired after rolling his ankle. The 6-foot-6 Zverev smacks a forehand cross court. Nadal somehow gets to it, reaching around the shot to hit it on his backhand and spinning right around in the process. Then, anticipating the course of Zverev’s reply, he dashes all the way to the other side of the court to hit the ball at a full run and send it just over the net past his staring opponent. The crowd leap to their feet.

The new era that is dawning at Roland Garros this week promises to be brilliant, too, of course. A whole new generation of players is bursting onto the scene. Cool but dangerous Casper Ruud of Norway, a finalist here and at the U.S. Open last year. His rival Rune, just 20 and quick as a cat. Jannik Sinner and Lorenzo Musetti of Italy. Tommy Paul and Taylor Fritz of the United States. Andrey Rublev and Daniil Medvedev of Russia, both now eliminated in Paris but full of confidence and promise. Golden-haired Stefanos Tsitsipas of Greece, who displayed his artistry the other day in Paris when he sent a ball not over the net but around it, sailing outside the net post into the opposite court.

The Canadians, of course. Félix Auger-Aliassime and Denis Shapovalov and, on the women’s side, Bianca Andreescu and Leylah Fernandez, all unfortunately now out of the running in Paris.

Above all, Alcaraz, who combines touch and power – that feathery drop shot; that cannon shot of a forehand – in a way no one has seen since young Nadal, his mentor and sometime coach, came on the scene. He used both to overwhelm Musetti this weekend and make it to the quarter-finals. He has already won a Grand Slam, beating Ruud at last year’s U.S. Open and becoming the youngest man ever to become world No. 1. He seems to have no fear at all.

But as much as there is for a fan to look forward to, it is hard to imagine that we will ever again see anything quite like the era that is now passing. Federer, Nadal, Djokovic – these three, so different in style, look and temperament, gave us a generation of riveting tennis.

We are allowed just a little regret.