Six in a row for the Emperor of Monaco

The House of Grimaldi must be seriously concerned about the siege by a Spaniard who goes by the name of Rafael Nadal. He has held the principality in the grip of his spell, for six long years. Prince Albert, the Sovereign now, began his reign in the same year that the man from Majorca won his first title at Monte Carlo. Since then, he has amassed statistics that can shock and awe to anyone that cares to read.

Fernando Verdasco was a mere bystander who walked in the guise of an opponent. In fact, he was just an innocent trespasser who would be put in place with ruthless efficiency. Nadal made mince meat of his fellow countryman in just under an hour and a half.

This was Nadal’s 32 straight victory at the Monte Carlo Country Club. In a rather cruel reminder of his superiority on clay, he has won this ATP Masters title - dropping just 14 games in ten sets of authoritative, dominant and destructive clay court tennis. It is no wonder that some of his opponents here this week will see a psychologist enroute to their next tournament, to limit the damage.

Nadal is back and how? He was off the blocks and over even before the beleaguered Verdasco could find the measure of his ball toss. The only show of resistance from the lesser Spaniard came in the form of a stiff neck, and a call for help to ease his nerves as he lay sprawled on the clay while the trainer rubbed the back of his neck. By this time, he was already down five games. Nadal broke his opponent to love in the first game of the afternoon, before running away with the first six to hand Verdasco a bitter bagel.

Finally, Verdasco won his only game of the match in the first of the second set. Alas it turned out to be his only statement for the afternoon. Besides saying of course that - "If he plays like this, no one can beat him," after a brief pause to catch his breath, he added - "He beat everyone in six years here and I'm just one of them."

This is Nadal’s 16^th Master Series title. He is tied second with Roger Federer, just one behind the all time leader Andre Agassi. If he continues to play the way he did here, that mark will be eclipsed before we reach Roland Garros.

For sheer domination, it is difficult to argue whether there has been a greater player in the history of tennis. It can be said with a degree of certainty that even his great contemporary Roger Federer has never come as close to dominating the game as the Spaniard has on clay.

Nadal did face a minor hiccup before wrapping up things for the evening. While serving up a set and 4-1 in the second, Verdasco made his last stand eking out six break points, but failing to convert any of these. Nadal came back to hold serve before breaking his opponent for the sixth time and rolling on his back with raised arms to celebrate an incredible sixth consecutive Monte Carlo Masters title.

A Summer of Dirty Delight

The shades are changing, as the curtain is drawn on the hard courts of North America. The tour heads, racket, bag and bunny in tow to the red dirt of the European Summer - to ply their trade of toss, stretch and swing - an indulgence in those endless rallies, that often seem like a ballet in the Sun. The clay court season has begun in earnest, with the galaxy of stars being hosted at the exquisitely private Monte Carlo Country Club. A master series event, run mainly on courts built to engage the wealthy members of this Mediterranean club.

As the players sweat it out in the grime their socks turn orange, the shoes a ragged mess. You may have just enough time for a quick glug of your favourite energy drink and a swipe with the towel, before your opponent gets the ball back in play. No wonder then that patience and the ability to stretch those last sinews are rewarded handsomely, albeit slowly, in the clay courts of France, Italy and Spain.

There is a romance in the manner in which the boys and girls around these courts toil with a large net in hand, doing their best to wipe away the evidence of the walloped ball and the sliding feet. The languid charm in having the umpire get off her high chair to closely examine the circle of impact to dismiss or second claims of an overbearing player - looking cross, hands on the hips - is a thing of beauty that may be living its last dunes in the sand. Roger Federer may not trust the physics of trajectory and the rhythm busting appeals, but the ATP Tour is better off using the science.

Half of the top ten are on a leave of absence, some injured, others who don't give a damn. There is a lot of chatter about player motivation - mainly about how little a man called Roger cares for these tournaments anymore, but more importantly about the inability of Andy Murray to really show up at these events and play. He is still reeling from the drubbing down under in the finals of the Oz Open at the hands of the Master, but then he will ruin his season unless he picks his strings, tightens his lace and gets down to some serious work.

He has done himself a disservice in losing his first match here at the MCCC to a German journeyman, what was it - 2 and 1? We all know what this man is capable of when he runs around a tennis court, with body, mind and soul intact. Unfortunately though, he is guilty of arriving mid-court with one or the other missing. Put it all together, and here is an unlikely British specimen that can play some real smart tennis.

There is something about dirt that draws the Spanish and the South Americans, like bees to flowers, and they descend in droves. So we will have an eclectic mix of players upsetting the applecart of the seeds. There is also the seasoned campaigner, David Nalbandian for one, fresh from rehabilitation and a new hip ready to mix up things with his magical angles. Tsonga can come into his own on his day. Juan Carlos Ferrero is trying to make his closing arguments; there is Feliciano Lopez with that ferocious forehand and a handful of others that will ruin the season for the elite and then make a quiet departure themselves. In the end analysis, men's tennis is robust at the top and it is difficult to see the trophies slip from their grasp, just yet.

Andy Roddick is a reborn player, rising from the darkness of serious contemplation about leaving the game. After all he has the license to drive into the inviting arms of a certain Brooklyn Decker-Roddick, cannot blame the man, can you? Fortunately for us, better sense prevailed. Larry Stefanki arrived courtside, armed with the etiquette of a blacksmith and the calm of a monk. He has a devoted and realistic disciple in Andy, who is once again willing to explore the possibilities of his talents and the fruits of hard work. He has the best record on tour this year, but all of that may not be enough to get this man to the business end of the clay season. We will wait for this man to arrive at Queens to see him blossom again.

With Del Potro nursing his wrist, the real suspects are the usual handful - Novak Djokovic, Rafa Nadal and of course Roger Federer. The Djoker's game was evolving really well, as you could gauge from his stellar show last season. It is just as well that he will work with a single coach, who can help him tide over his confusion and once again trust his game. He has it in him to run Rafa close, question is can he pull it out of the bag when he needs it most. The final at the MCCC will help us figure that one.

Federer seems removed from the madness in Monte Carlo, but he must be watching closely. We will know soon if the meal he was making in Indian Wells and Miami was a mere blip or a trend. He certainly seemed at sea against all and sundry, before making listless exits from both tournaments. He has a task at hand, getting his game together during what is the busiest part of the season. He has the added motivation of making a definitive argument for his rightful place at the high table of Tennis greatness, by defending his crown at Roland Garros.

But the last word on dirt ought to belong to Rafa Nadal. Poor old Michael Berrer was having the season of his life, till he ran into the Marauding Majorcan. The man is a beast, when his knees aren't living on tape. He seems ominous all over again, back chasing balls, with that unmistakable spring in his step. It appears he will once again rule the roost in the grime, grinding his way past opponents. We have some feast at hand, there is some tennis to be had.

The Opening Gambit...

Long after the genial Swiss makes his exit from the centre stage of one of the most fluid sports on the planet – the numbers will fade away, but never shall the magic he spun on the finest courts around the world.

For over a decade now, from the day he beat Pete Sampras on the hallowed lawns of the game of tennis, Roger Federer strides the game with a royal grace, creating moments of genuine brilliance evoking soulful applause and eternal joy. Never has a winner been so universally loved and admired, across America, Europe and Asia in equal measure.

In this context, the result of tomorrows match between Andy Murray and Roger Federer is a mere statistic. The promise of some intensely competitive and aesthetic shot making between two of the most intelligent players almost dwarfs the occasion. The mouth is watering at the prospect of some top draw tennis.

However, the hardworking Scott has reason to disagree. No Brit has won a Grand Slam final for over seven decades. And after a decade of romancing their hopes with Tim Henman, the fans in the Old Blighty are ready for the real deal. And Murray is indeed the real deal, certainly a very smart and resourceful player with the ability to play just about anywhere on the court, besides owning the best return of serve.

He also has the uncanny ability to think in the moment and ahead in tactically destroying his opponents. The aggressiveness with which he demolished Nadal in the Quarters and the manner in which he used his returns to neutralize the towering game of Cilic indicate that Murray is ready to step up and win on a second Sunday at the most important tournaments.

Federer will arrive on Sunday knowing that any inertia similar to the match against Davydenko will spell the end of his final. The first set is going to be crucial in setting the tone for the evening. Murray will attack the Federer backhand and take advantage. Federer will seek to find some sharp angles to drive Murray wide and create spaces on the court to exploit.

Whether Murray will break the duck or Federer extends his domination of the Slams will depend greatly on finding some early rhythm on serve and the ability to draw on the wonderful range of strokes that both players possess. It is indeed going to be an intelligent game of tennis. This is the opening gambit for tennis in 2010, and you could not have found any better cast than the one on show at the Rod Laver Arena.

Find a comfortable pair of pyjamas, and a good spot on the couch to sit back and watch these two players hit the sweet spot, this Sunday evening in the Australian summer.

Federer finds his salvation on clay, finally!

Last evening, on a damp day in Paris, the curtain was drawn on the most excruciating week in the life of Roger Federer. And how must he have rejoiced soaking in the knowledge that he was finally looking in the eyes of his greatest dream. Federer experienced the delirious pleasure of knowing that his dream and life converged even as dusk engulfed Philippe Chartrier. The Coupe des Mousquetaires will finally be adorned with his name, lifting the enormous burdens, mostly self imposed, on the shoulders of the great champion. He has now won titles at each of the major tennis tournaments, at least once.

"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." Thus spake the great musical genius Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. They must ring true for Federer too. He has traversed the short distance between eulogy and epilogue, in the past few months even as he was disrobed in France and then dispossessed at Wimbledon by Rafael Nadal. The tortuous final in Melbourne must still rankle, as he was completely stripped off his cloak of superiority.

As the undisputed genius of the modern tennis era arrived to exorcise the demons that haunted his past - the elements of the tennis universe converged into the grand stadium court on the right bank of River Seine in the 16th arrondissement of Paris. Bjorn Rune Borg was in attendance. So were Andre Agassi and Steffi Graf, tennis royalty if you will. The clouds gathered too, the wind wafted its way past the high stands. The rain ushered itself in like an uninvited intruder at a royal do, eager to be present, desperate to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The only absentee was Rafael Nadal, that fine clay court player - one suspects Federer wasn't too miffed about that either.

It was no smooth passage, this journey. First, the enduring challenge and the constant pounding he received at the hands of the marauder from Spain had begun to dine on his self belief. The fortnight leading into the Finals Sunday, posed questions that threatened to derail and trip him on the path to his destiny. Not in the best of form, he appeared to fall and rise, surviving through late recoveries and some inspired tennis. The draw was no minefield, but his accomplished peers succumbed to the vagaries of their inconsistency. Yet, here was a man with this unique opportunity, thanks mainly to his unsurpassed consistency - 20 consecutive semi-finals bear testimony to his glowing desire, unabashed ambition and most importantly his hard work, dedication and unwavering commitment.

Robin Soderling - the unassuming Swede, aren't they all that way, made his way to the finals on the back of some of the finest tennis of his life. He put paid to the hopes of that goliath on clay - Rafael Nadal - to win a fifth consecutive title. The doubters wondered if he could keep it all together, even as he marched on the back of this glorious upset. He was tested by another spaniard Fernando Gonzalez deep into the fifth, but he found the resolve and the tools to overcome the challenge. Here he was now, standing in the way of the man that wanted to be a champion.

There were some who believed that the burden of history would prove too much for the sophisticated champion from Switzerland. His opponent had never gotten past the third round of a major championship, will he survive the stage fright of his first major final? The answers came thick and fast, as Federer romped through the first set in a mere 23 minutes.

As Soderling was getting ready to serve in the fourth game of the second set, there was this demented idiot who decided to steal the show - running on to the court just to unnerve the champion and bring misery upon himself. To his credit Federer recovered quickly, even as Soderling found his range. Close games were fought, but neither player gained an edge.

The second set tie breaker turned out to be the defining passage of play in the evening's proceedings. Federer served like a maestro, dealing in aces as he romped home 7-1. Soderling was nothing more than a spectator with the best seat in the house.

Surely, the tournament has witnessed the fighting best of the endearing Swiss champion. First against Hass and then against the developing Del Potro, he returned from the precipice to keep his hopes alive. The tough road helped him sharpen his tools. The slice forced Soderling to search for pace, the drop shots left him stranded; the ball stayed low neautralising the opponent's ability to strike hard and the weather helped.

The stadium started to reverbrate with the joy of an impending celebration, with the exception of Magnus Norman. A loosing finalist at the beginning of the millenium, he would have dearly loved to see his ward win the title.

Fate and luck conspire too, and they helped Federer get out of a game changing situation in the eighth game of the third set, when he faced his only breakpoint of the set. After that it was just a matter of time. Soderling deserves credit for forcing Federer to serve it out in the tenth, as he fought gamely against the odds.

The quality of tennis was inconsistent, the weather was gloomy - but the significance of the evening's proceedings wasn't lost on anyone, least of all Federer. Finally, at the first match point a well directed first serve met with the tentative strings on the racket of Soderling, before ending in the bottom of the net.

The genius sank to his knees, as he erupted in a flood of joyous tears - a man beyond himself overcome by the release and beauty of the occasion. In less than two hours, the great man embellished his life's work with a jewel that would answer all the questions that anyone ever wanted to ask of him.

He can now travel the world like a zen master and play the game with the freedom of a soaring bird. May the Federer saga continue..................for now let us just celebrate the career of a sporting genius.