LONDON — To have faced one member of tennis's 'Big Three' is a career highlight for most professional players. To have faced all three is a rare distinction. But to have competed against Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Novak Djokovic throughout their collective prime offers a unique, almost sacred, perspective on the greatest debate in modern sports.
I was fortunate, and perhaps cursed, to have my career coincide almost perfectly with theirs. Over 15 years on the ATP Tour, I logged matches against each of them on every surface. From the manicured grass of Wimbledon to the brutal clay of Roland Garros and the hard courts of Melbourne and New York, I felt the full force of their contrasting genius.
The question I am asked more than any other is a simple one: Who was the toughest to play? The answer is complex because each presented a different, almost otherworldly, challenge. But after years of reflection, one name stands apart as the most mentally and physically grueling opponent I ever encountered.
The Artistry of Federer: A Beautiful Torment
Facing Roger Federer was like being part of a performance. There was an aura about him that was palpable from the moment you walked onto the court. The silence of the crowd was different for Roger; it was a reverent hush. His game was fluid, seemingly effortless. He didn't so much hit the ball as caress it, directing it with a precision that felt unfair.
The biggest challenge with Roger was time, or rather, the lack of it. He took the ball so early, especially on the return of serve, that it felt like you had to hit a perfect serve just to start the point. His movement was so smooth and economical that he was never out of position. You could construct what you thought was a perfect point, only for him to flick a wrist and hit a winner from a defensive position.
As one famous rival once said, playing Federer was a unique kind of frustration:
"You feel like you're playing a guy who's painting a masterpiece, and you're the canvas."
With Federer, you could sometimes find rhythm. If you served incredibly well and took risks on your groundstrokes, you could push him. There was a feeling that his one-handed backhand, while majestic, could be attacked with high, heavy topspin. But this was a trap. Lure him into a backhand exchange, and he would step around it and rip a forehand winner. You were always playing his game, dancing to his tune.
The Physical War of Nadal: Surviving the Storm
If playing Federer was a chess match, playing Rafael Nadal was a physical war of attrition. You didn't just lose to Rafa; you were broken down, dismantled, and left utterly exhausted. The intensity began in the warm-up. The relentless focus, the sprinting for every ball, the sheer physicality—it was a statement of intent before a single point had been played.
His topspin is legendary, but you cannot appreciate its effect until you've faced it. The ball kicks up so high and heavy, especially on clay, that it pushes you meters behind the baseline. You are constantly on the back foot, hitting shoulder-high backhands that sap your strength. Your entire game plan has to be recalibrated just to handle the spin and depth of his groundstrokes.
The most demoralizing aspect was his inhuman defense. You would hit a shot that against any other player would be a clean winner, and suddenly you'd see Rafa, legs pumping, somehow getting to it and not just getting it back, but firing it back with interest. He turned defense into offense in a single shot.
Key challenges when facing Nadal included:
- The brutal, heavy topspin that pushed you off the court.
- His relentless court coverage and refusal to concede any point.
- The psychological blow of his "ungettable" gets, which broke your spirit.
You had to be prepared to suffer for two, three, four hours. There were no free points. Even when you were up 40-0 on your serve, you knew you were in for a battle. He was a gladiator, and the court was his colosseum. Beating him, especially on clay, required a near-perfect physical performance and the mental fortitude to never, ever give up, because you knew he never would.
The Ultimate Challenge: The Djokovic Conundrum
And then there is Novak Djokovic. While Federer was the artist and Nadal the warrior, Djokovic was something else entirely: the perfect machine. My answer to the question of who was the hardest to beat is, without a doubt, Novak. The reason is twofold: he has no clear weakness, and he possesses what I believe is the greatest mental fortitude in the history of the sport.
From a technical standpoint, playing Djokovic is an exercise in futility. His return of serve is arguably the greatest shot in the history of tennis. You cannot overpower him from the baseline—his two-handed backhand is a rock-solid weapon, both cross-court and down-the-line. His forehand is relentless, his movement is arguably the most efficient ever, and his flexibility is absurd.
But it's the mental aspect that truly separates him. On the biggest points, at the most critical moments in a match, his level *rises*. It's the opposite of what happens to 99.9% of players, including myself. You feel a tightening, a pressure. He seems to enter a state of complete focus and relaxation. There is no panic in his eyes, only a cold, calculating determination.
I remember a match where I had set point on his serve. I hit what I thought was an unreturnable serve out wide. He not only got it back but placed a dipping passing shot at my feet. The match slipped away moments later. That was the Djokovic experience. He denies you at the door, repeatedly.
What makes Djokovic uniquely difficult is his ability to adapt mid-match. As one coach famously observed:
"Federer beats you with style, Nadal beats you with force, but Djokovic beats you with your own game. He finds a way to make you beat yourself."
He would identify a single minor flaw in my game—perhaps a tendency to run around my backhand on a specific shot—and he would ruthlessly exploit it for the remainder of the match. He forces you to play a shot you are uncomfortable with, over and over, until you crack. He turns your greatest strengths into liabilities.
The Verdict: A Battle of Body and Soul
So, while Federer left you feeling outclassed and Nadal left you feeling physically broken, Djokovic did both. He broke you down physically with his incredible fitness and elastic defense, and then he broke you mentally by being an impenetrable wall on the most important points.
The numbers now bear out what many of us on tour felt for years. His record in Grand Slam finals, his head-to-head dominance against both Federer and Nadal, and his unprecedented weeks at World No. 1 are not accidents. They are the product of a man who perfected every aspect of the game, with a particular emphasis on the six inches between the ears.
To summarize the challenge of each legend:
- Federer: A psychological battle against perfection and time.
- Nadal: A physical battle of survival and endurance.
- Djokovic: A holistic battle where he attacks both your body and your mind, leaving no avenue for escape.
In the end, my career was defined by losing to these three giants more often than not. But I take solace in having shared the court with them. They pushed the sport to a level previously thought impossible. And from my unique vantage point, across the net from all three, the hardest mountain to climb, the most complete and formidable player, was and remains Novak Djokovic.