Will Usain and Tyson Rise to the Level of Rafa and Roger?

Forgive me if this appears to be an article about tennis. It's not. It's about rivalry, sportsmanship, deportment, and the mysterious workings of the most potent "muscle" in the body, the brain.

On Sunday, Roger Federer will play for the only major tennis title he has not won--the French Open. If he wins, he will not only have won all four major tennis championships, but it will also be his 14th Grand Slam title, which will tie him with Pete Sampras for the most Grand Slam titles. If he wins, he will be hailed as the greatest men's tennis player of all time.

There's a lot at stake here, but as any top athlete will tell you, the pressure to succeed does not some so much from external sources as from within. "How much do you want it?" is a familiar "motivational" tool used by coaches giving pep talks to their athletes. How much you want it, however, can be a burden instead of an inspiration as the London Times columnist, Simon Barnes notes here.

What Barnes describes is the sometimes crippling effect of too much desire, of "wanting it" too much. How many times can you think of when you wanted something so badly that, instead of calmly executing a pre-race strategy, it all went down in flames as you tightened up, strove too hard when you needed to relax, and resulted in a loss of the prize you so fervently sought?

That is the paradox of desire in sport. You want it so much that wanting is what defeats you. Athletics is generally a series of repetitive physical actions that culminate in a polished or not so polished performance. Execute well and you are usually successful. Fail to execute, and you are left beaten, ruefully examining your mistakes.

Federer almost succumbed to his own desire, Barnes writes, in the semifinal match when he was playing an opponent that he had handled easily in his previous encounters. Had beaten easily when the stakes were not so high. How often have we done the same thing? More often than not, I would guess, and it is a valuable lesson that it happens not only to us "lesser mortals," but to one deemed to be among, if not the best, in his sport.

This is the "human" side of sport most athletes attempt to mask or hide. Every athlete has his or her weaknesses, insecurities, flaws that they try to mask or conceal from their opponents. For years Federer had ruled the sport as no other, aside from perhaps Tiger Woods in golf. He had created an aura of invincibility, a mask that there were few, if any, flaws. That the only person who could beat Federer was Federer.

Then came Rafael Nadal, a "freak" of nature as tennis legend Andre Agassi recently referred to him in praise of Rafa's unique talents. For the last four years Nadal has ruled Paris and the French Open, just as Federer had ruled the rest of the game. Then Nadal also beat Federer at Wimbledon, on grass. Then in Australia on the hard courts. Nadal became number one.

Federer was not merely unable to beat Nadal on clay, but he also began losing to others. Britain's Andy Murray has risen to number three in the world and has beaten Federer in their last few encounters. On the verge of history, Federer had suddenly become no longer invincible, but vulnerable. The way he and Nadal have handled their rivalry, however, has been a lesson in statesmanship and sportsmanship.

They seem to be genuinely fond of one another, appreciative of each's abilities and personalities. There is none of the "trash talking" and psychological gamesmanship that is so prevalent within sport. Maybe as a result their Wimbledon final battle last year has been elevated to the title of the greatest match ever. So often sporting contests are won by mistakes. The athlete or team that makes the fewest of them prevails.

What made the Federer/Nadal dual in the sunset last year was that the points were usually won, not lost. One or the other of the contestants merely executed better, produced a greater shot in a series of great rallies to win the points. They elevated the game, displayed how it can be played at the highest level. That is when sports is at its best, when it "lives up to the hype" that usually precludes what is hoped to be a historic contest.

Track has had few of those moments of late. There have been no great rivalries, no contests featuring two or more athletes at the top of their profession battling out to get to the top. Usain Bolt provided the most memorable performances of recent time in Beijing last summer, but it was less of a race than an exhibition. Now Tyson Gay has opened the 2009 season with a 200 meter performance that hints at what we might have missed in Beijing, a challenger to Lightening Bolt, someone to help elevate the event and the sport.

Both Gay and Bolt have been unusual among sprinters in that they have not engaged in the usual chest thumping and bravado of many past sprint champions. Bolt has deflected the verbal boasts of other sprinters by noting that he doesn't concern himself with the talk of others or their potential challenge, but merely in raising his own game, improving and displaying his own talent. Gay has acknowledged that what he has done thus far will not cause Bolt to lose any sleep worrying about him, but it has put him on Bolt's radar, has suggested that Bolt may not have it as easy as it was in Beijing.

The delicious possibility is that both will push each other to new heights and, with them, the sport. Tennis has thrived with Rafa and Roger. The future of athletics may rest with Usain and Tyson.