The Rafa fan club are in revolt. They want the biceps back. The appeal was broadcast on placards across the Rod Laver Arena: bring back the sleeveless tops.The campaign could build into the theme of the European summer. That said, the longer T could be the least of Rafa's problems if the evidence of an unkind light proves reliable. Ladies, look away now. Is that a thinning thatch concealed beneath the headband?
It might be the wishful thinking of the middle-aged male, or the consequence of a run to the last eight that has matched much of the women's draw in its lack of intensity. We were looking for signs of a contest.
Veiled muscles or not, Nadal had steamrollered through the opposition, not a set dropped. Any sign of Samsonesque vulnerability might help the night pass a little quicker in the Melbourne oven, taking minds off the insane heat.
It was not to be. Gilles Simon, despite engineering a set point in the second on the Nadal serve, was ultimately fried like the rest as Nadal made his case (6-2, 7-5, 7-5) to be presented to Rod Laver as champion on Sunday.
The suggestion of resistance is an affront to the Nadal monarchy. The first set passed in a blur of regal aggression. Simon, as you would expect from a player seeded six, gathered himself impressively in the second to put the world No 1 on the spot at 4-5, 30-40.
Nadal, an inveterate baseline fiddler, ran through his ritual quirks, reaching first for the towel then the seat of his shorts, which he imagines are always riding into the discomfort zone. Finally he set himself. One bounce, two bounces, three, four, five, six, boom. Simon moved instinctively to his left, managing to get an outstretched racket on it. The furred missile popped up invitingly for Nadal and Simon was cooked.
Andy Murray's conqueror, Fernando Verdasco, awaits in tomorrow's semi-final. Good luck. At the close the Australian commentary welcomed the progress of the "most exciting player in the world". Jim Courier reinforced Nadal's eminence in the courtside interview, getting, it must be said, straight to the point.
"Rafa, let's talk fashion. What's with the sleeves? For me it works but I gotta tell you, when I'm walking on the street this morning I'm stopped by a woman. She said please ask Rafa to show me the muscles one more time. Could you do that for us?" Yes he could, and did, the full bicep flex falling into the laps of grateful photographers starved of torso time.
Like Juan Martin Del Potro in the aftermath of defeat to Roger Federer, it was not a tennis player but a trauma victim that staggered into the post-match interview room. "The last time [against him] I saved so many break points. This time nothing. He was just too good," Simon said.
"It is a matter of level. I had to do some unbelievable shots just to come back in the match. I gave it all I had. If I win the set point it might be a different match. He hit a great serve and put the forehand away. He did not give me a thing."
Forty years ago, a different kind of rocket bestrode the universe. Rod Laver's victory in the 1969 Australian Open final was the prelude to the first calendar Grand Slam of the open era and the second of his career. Laver accepts that the trophy he presents is going one of two ways.
"Federer has probably got some of the best mechanics in the game of tennis. He can play at the net, he can play at the baseline, he's quick. But the competition is just unbelievable now.
"When you look at Nadal, it's just amazing what he can do on a clay court, and now he's providing it on grass and a hard court, in his own right a great champion."
Laver, 70, remains the game's ultimate reference point. Pete Sampras stands alone with 14 major titles but never won on the red dust of Roland Garros.
Laver was denied entry to grand slam events for six years, the punishment for his pioneering role in the development of the professional game, but still won 11. Had he stayed amateur, he might have set a grand slam total beyond the reach of all.
It is three years since he last graced Melbourne Park. He moves more slowly now and the skin has the translucent glow of old age. But throw him a question about his heyday and he is back in whites, cocking that iron left wrist.
"The memories are pretty vivid. We played professional tennis for six years, just six, eight, 10 guys travelling around the world. They weren't just exhibitions. There was money changing hands every match we played.
"It wasn't like, 'Well, I don't feel like playing today because I'm not feeling so good'."
And how would you have fared against Federer or a Nadal? "Put a wooden racket in his hand is the first thing I would have to do. To try to put myself in today's world as a tennis player, it's almost impossible to know how I'd get on. In our era we had only a couple guys over 6ft 3in. [Ken] Rosewall, he's 5ft 6in.
"We played three of the grand slam tournaments on grass. It wasn't very good grass except Wimbledon. They were green, yeah, but that's about it. I remember playing Roy Emerson at Forest Hills in the US Open. There were huge chunks of grass. When you're serving, you're ripping it up. So now you got to try to serve somewhere else, because there's a big hole there."
From: Telegraph.co.uk
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