Housekeeping: Because of Rosh Hashana, this post has winged its way to you on Wednesday, not Tuesday. Please adjust your minds accordingly. Thank you.

By the time you read this, Roger Federer will have retired from the world of professional tennis. That marks the official end of two separate eras. The first is, obviously, his own career, which began over 24 years ago on July 6, 1998. The second, equally obviously, and perhaps more momentously, is the era of rivalry between Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic, which had its origins in 2004, when Rafa first played Roger, but became a three-way contest in 2006, when Novak first played both Roger and Rafa.

Now that we are finally here, the GOAT (Greatest of All Time) discussions over dinner, in the media, or in the pub, have been revived with a vengeance. What characterises these discussions is that they are never resolved to everyone’s satisfaction; indeed, nobody is ever persuaded to change their mind. And I think I know the reason why.

But before we get to that, I need to clarify my position. For a very long time (too long, I now admit), I remained loyal to Rod Laver, who got my vote for several reasons. Here are three of my favourites. One: he changed the game, with his aggression in situations where previous players had chosen defence. For example, he ‘invented’ the backhand top-spin passing shot from a running backwards position, where everyone else threw up a lob. Two: he developed an extraordinary physique – his left wrist was measured at 7 inches in circumference, an inch more than his right, and his left forearm at 12 inches, 1½ inches more than his right. Three: when he was playing his worst, he was still incredibly difficult to beat.

More significantly, he dominated the game, winning 198 singles titles over his career (the Open Era record is held by John McEnroe, with 158), winning 10 or more titles every year for 7 consecutive years, and 11 Grand Slam titles (in a career that saw him ineligible for 20 consecutive Grand Slams in the 5 years after he turned pro and before the Open era). He also won the calendar Grand Slam twice, including being the only man to do so in the Open era.

The one fly in this ointment is that for much of his amateur career he was not competing against the best players in the game, because they had already turned pro. When he first turned pro, he had a season where he was outclassed. It is, of course, impossible to know how many of his amateur titles he would have won if he had been competing against Hoad and Rosewall.

The other immense difficulty in deciding GOAT is, of course, the challenge of comparing men who did not compete in the same era. Racket, ball and shoe technologies, surface developments, advances in sport-science-driven training, monitoring and dietary techniques, all make the task impossible.

And yet: when Andy Murray tried to pressure Djokovic into a GOAT discussion, and Djokovic argued that inter-era comparisons were impossible, Murray’s response was that all three contenders for GOAT played, indeed were still playing, in the same era. If Andy Murray says that, who am I to argue with him, even if I do have one more metal hip than he does.

So, there it is. Which of these three is the greatest player of all time? Let me try to shed some light on the discussion. I am sure that when people debate this, and disagree, they are not usually disagreeing about how they rate the individual players, but rather they are disagreeing about what they mean by ‘the greatest of all time’. I believe that there are three basic, very different interpretations of GOAT.

First, imagine that you are James Bond, and you have been captured by an evil mastermind who tells you that he plans to kill you. (Bear with me.) However, he is prepared to give you a fighting chance. He shows you a pack of cards: on each card is written a year, from 2006 to 2021. He shows you another pack, with only 4 cards: one representing each of the four grand slams. He shows you his time machine (keep bearing), which will transport the two of you back in time. He explains that you will draw from the two packs, while blindfolded, a year card and a venue card, and the two of you will travel back to the year you drew, where he will pay a huge amount of money to hire the grand slam venue you drew. On that surface, the player you choose – Roger, Rafa or Novak – will play a five-set match against the highest ranked other player that year.

The catch is that you have to choose your player before you draw, blind, a year and a venue. If the player you chose wins, you live; if he loses, you die. This definition of GOAT boils down to: Who would you choose to play for you if your life depended on it? The only point of my elaboration is that it prevents you saying: ‘Well, Rafa on clay, obviously, and Novak in Australia.’

To help you decide which one of the three is this GOAT, it might be useful to know the Big Three’s head-to-head records against each other, which are as follows:
Djokovic-Nadal 30-29
Nadal-Federer 24-16
Djokovic-Federer 27-23

In grand slams, the stats are:
Nadal-Djokovic 11-7
Nadal-Federer 10-4
Djokovic-Federer 11-6

By this measure, it looks as though Nadal has the strongest claim. However, Nadal’s domination in Paris (8-2 against Djokovic, 6-0 against Federer) skews the stats, and, in addition, there is a strong case to be made for Djokovic’s grand slam stats having been weakened by his ‘forced’ absence from some grand slams in these last COVID years. It is perhaps Djokovic who may just edge out Nadal overall, but Federer doesn’t seem to have a claim.

This ‘If my life depended on it’ definition is the one some people clearly have in mind when they debate the issue. However, for others, the question is completely different. In this scenario, the evil mastermind is a more subtle torturer. He appears to you in 2006 and tells you that he will provide you with front-row seats to watch every match played between then and 2021 by whichever of the three you choose. He also assures you that all three players will be playing well for the entire period. The only snag is that you will not be allowed to watch any other matches at all. Here, clearly, the question is: ‘Which player would I rather watch than any other?’

And here, of course, is where Roger gathers most, if not all, of his votes. His easy grace, his gazelle-like athleticism, his playful delight in the game, his extraordinary hand-eye coordination, his elegant footwork: it is a cliché to call him the Mozart of tennis, but we should always remember that clichés become clichés because they are so obviously and thoroughly accurate. Watching Federer play was never less than utter joy. It is a remarkable fact that Roger, throughout his career, never retired from a match. I think that must be because his natural grace meant that he put far less strain on his body than either of the other two. Tennis, for him, never seemed to be a titanic struggle. My delight at watching him play, and my feeling of being privileged to watch a genius performing, seemed always independent of whether he won or lost. I believe there are people who prefer to watch Nadal or Djokovic, but I cannot understand that preference.

I feel there is also a third definition of greatness, which is in a sense the antithesis of what I have just described. How much sweat is a player prepared to exude, how much blood to lose, how much agony to endure, how much damage to self-inflict, in order to stay in a match? Which of the three would you back if they were all having their worst day? I think that in the last few years, we have seen just how much heart and sheer grit Nadal brings to the game.

So, as you can see, I offer you three GOATs. It all depends, in CEM Joad’s immortal phrase, on what you mean by GOAT. My conclusion is that we are all immeasurably fortunate to have lived in an age, in the age, when there were three contenders – the three contenders – for the title of GOAT playing contemporaneously, and that we really do not have to decide between them.

For me personally, ultimately, what matters most is the enjoyment of watching a great match full of beautiful tennis, regardless of the result, which makes me, I confess, a member of the Roger camp – a fact which will, if nothing else, endear me to my brother- and sister-in-law in England, for whom tennis has just lost most of its meaning, with Federer’s retirement.

Whoever gets your vote, what we all might be able to agree on is that we have been privileged, over the last decade and a half, to enjoy the sporting rivalry GOAT – the greatest sporting rivalry of all time, in any sport, where each of the three contenders raised the game of the other two time and again. Unless, of course, you can think of another as finely balanced, as nuanced in its twists and turns, and as extended. Let the pub debates begin!

Meanwhile, in Penamacor, two brothers sit quietly waiting for the next great sporting rivalry to come along. Sorry, boys, but you really have missed the GOAT!