It was a sight to behold, four men dressed in primarily black against an orange Roland Garros court, the venue of one man’s record 14 Grand Slams, 14 French Opens. Three men saying goodbye to their fourth musketeer — Roger Federer, Novac Djokovic, and Andy Murray, felicitating their friend, foe and fiercest rival — bidding farewell to Rafa Nadal. These four men contested an insane number of finals between them in Grand Slams over the last 25 years, winning most of them, a testament to their resilience, their robustness, and frankly their racket skills.

And as the Spaniard, in his distinctly Spanish accent, addressed the Swede, the Serb and the Scot, he spoke of battles between them, and mind games, and epic battles, and exhaustion, and energy sapping contests, and at the end of the day, it was just a game… you give your heart and soul on the court, injuries, invincibility, immortality — all four of them grateful for the others presence in their era. 

And as Rafa spoke, the only left hander among them, for them to have made time to celebrate and bid farewell, to the greatest rival in the modern, a never say die spirit, there was something touching, emotional about this event. In my experience, before these warriors began their era of dominance, tennis was a sport of cold vibes. McEnroe never smiled, only swore at referees, Bjorn was an ice-borg. Connors, aggressive. Lendl… cold — these men in one and twos created rivalries, Becker- Edberg, Sampras-Agassi, but it was primarily, Roger, Rafa and Novak, played a round robin of finals on clay, grass and hard courts, often a few points separating, wins and losses, trading the winners cup and the runners up plate.