New Series: National Spotlights (Updated with Spain 12/5)

[El Dude]

INTRO: NATIONAL SPOTLIGHTS

I’m going to start a series that I’ll roll out gradually over the coming weeks and months, that overview men’s tennis players by nation. The emphasis here will be as a survey; while I’ll try to add in little tidbits about the players, most of this will just be assessing the landscape and trajectory of each nation’s contribution in men’s tennis, starting with the pre-Open Era, but focusing on the Open Era. In other words, it is another angle on looking at the better players of the Open Era.

Each nation entry will include the following sections, in some form or fashion (subject to change as it evolves):

• A chart of all titles (of course!)
• A historical narrative, from pre-Open Era to the Open Era to the current time
• The top 10 players
• Current top players
• Fun facts and miscellaneous info

As far as the top 10s are concerned, I’m using a proprietary formula that looks at titles, Slam results, rankings, and Elo - sort of my own version of GOAT points, but simplified slight. I then reduce it to what I'm half-facetiously calling El Dude Rating (EDR), which is a number from 1 to 100+. While EDR is meant to balance career and peak, it is only the starting point – I adjust with a subjective assessment in cases where I disagree strongly with the ordering and/or the scores are close.

I'm mostly just looking at players who have won at least a single title; I figure that in order to be among the top 10 players of many nations, you have to have won a title. But after about a dozen or so nations, many only have a few title winners. But I'll get into that when we get to those nations.

The Chart: The includes every title and Slam final by a player of that nation. Each title will have one cell per 250 ATP point equivalency, plus Slam Finals (five cells). Like so:

Slam win: 8 cells (dark)
Tour final: 6 cells (medium)
Alt Tour final: 5 cells (medium)
Masters: 4 cells (medium)
Olympics: 3 cells (medium)
ATP 500: 2 cells (light)
ATP 250: 1 cell (very light)
Slam final: 5 cells (gray)

I do plan on look at every nation with at least one title winner, but a few facts to consider:

• Men from 20 different countries have won Grand Slams during the Open Era.
• Of those 20 countries, half won 3 or fewer, half 5 or more.
• Men from 24 different countries have won Grand Slams during all of tennis history. The four that haven’t won during the Open Era are Hungary, Mexico, Egypt, and New Zealand (and that Egyptian player, Jaroslav Drobny, was born elsewhere - which we'll touch upon in a later entry)
• The number of countries with title winners is…who the bleep knows. Hopefully I’ll find out!

The point being, not all countries are created alike in terms of tennis accomplishments, but I plan on giving each country an individual entry, so some will be rather long, some quite short. The lone exceptions might be countries that were once one country; for instance, I am going to do one entry on the Czech Republic and Slovakia, formerly Czechoslovakia (and even before that, the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia).

Furthermore, I will generally include a player as a member of a country that they were a citizen of during the bulk of their career. So Ivan Lendl will be counted as a Czech, not an American.

Because no post of mine (at least in this thread) is complete without a chart, here are the nations by male Slam winners (Open Era only):

As you can see, the USA stands above the pack, with Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Serbia, and Australia a solid second tier. Of those four, three—Spain, Switzerland, and Serbia—are reliant on singular greats, while the other two (Sweden and Australia) have not had many Slams of late – their last being both about two decades ago. Some countries are rising, some stalling out. But we'll get to all of that.

On to the tennis nations...

 

[El Dude]

First spotlight...coming soon.

 

[Moxie]

As you can see, the USA stands above the pack, with Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Serbia, and Australia a solid second tier. Of those four, three—Spain, Switzerland, and Serbia—are reliant on singular greats, while the other two (Sweden and Australia) have not had many Slams of late – their last being both about two decades ago. Some countries are rising, some stalling out. But we'll get to all of that.

Spain obviously less-completely reliant on a single-great, just the bulk of it, but with several one-timers, though. Not exactly the same as Federer all but holding up the standard for Switzerland, and the rest being Stan, and Novak single-handedly holding it up for Serbia. Surprisingly, Murray is it for Great Britain, and not surprisingly, Kuerten is on his own for Brazil.

Even though you're doing by countries, I guess I understand why you're not doing Davis Cup. You're going by countries, but based on individual performance.

 

[El Dude]

Spain obviously less-completely reliant on a single-great, just the bulk of it, but with several one-timers, though. Not exactly the same as Federer all but holding up the standard for Switzerland, and the rest being Stan, and Novak single-handedly holding it up for Serbia. Surprisingly, Murray is it for Great Britain, and not surprisingly, Kuerten is on his own for Brazil.

Yes, absolutely. I'll post the first installment soon, which goes into how Spain has actually had a strongish field over the last three decades. Certainly in contrast to Sweden, the US, and Australia (before and into the Open Era, at least).

Part of what inspired on this project is I have always noticed the different trajectories of different nations - how some have peaked at different times, come and gone, or risen from not very much. Some have been singular in their "national goatness," while others have had several all-time greats: e.g. the Swedish three-headed GOAT (well, with one "head" being above the other two).

Even though you're doing by countries, I guess I understand why you're not doing Davis Cup. You're going by countries, but based on individual performance.

Yes, though I'm mentioning the Davis Cup. But maybe I should add the Davis Cup to the national charts as a reference point...good idea.

 

[El Dude]

NATIONAL SPOTLIGHT 1: SPAIN

(“It isn’t just the Bull of Manacor…but it mostly is”)​

With the current top two players being Spaniards, why not start in España? In some ways, Spain has followed the reverse trajectory of twin behemoths of mid-to-late 20th century tennis, Australia and the United States; where those latter countries peaked decades ago, at least among men, Spain has really come into its own in recent decades – not just due to one particular fellow, but a strong field in the 90s and early 2000s, and now a rising young star.

The Chart: Spaniard Titles of the Open Era
Let’s start with a chart. Below is a visual depiction of all Spanish men who have won at least a single title – of which there are 46 players in the Open Era (See the intro for how this chart is formatted).

What stands out is the gradual build-up in the early 90s, which came into full fruition with the emergence of Rafael Nadal more than a decade later. But before getting to the Bull of Manacor, let’s go back to before the beginning of the Open Era…

The Time Before: A Quiet Presence
Men’s tennis basically didn’t exist in Spain before the 1960s. Well, it existed, but there were no Slam winners – not until Manuel Santana won four Amateur Slams starting in 1961.

Tennis essentially began as a sport of the former British Empire; in the first half a century or so, starting with the first all-British Wimbledon in 1877, it was dominated by Great Britain, the United States, and Australia. The US National tournament (later the US Open) began in 1881, the Australasian Championships in 1905. The Championnat de France—which later became the French Open—was first held in 1891, it didn’t open up to non-French club players until 1925, when it gained major designation by the ILTF. This was perhaps earned when the French waged a coup at Wimbledon the year before, when two Frenchmen—Jean Borotra and Rene Lacoste—fought over the Wimbledon title (Borotra won).

All four, especially Wimbledon, were first played by citizens of their respective nations; as airplane travel became more and more common-place in the 1920s and beyond, this gradually changed, reflected in the “internationalization” of Slams, slowly but steadily. It wasn’t until 1932 that an Italian reached a Slam final, a German in 1934, a Czech in 1938.

Here's a fun little trivia question: Who is the first men’s player not from the UK, USA, Australia or New Zealand to appear in a Slam final? That would be Brian Norton of South Africa, who lost to Bill Tilden in Wimbledon in 1921. This holds relevance to Spain because, to get to Tilden, who as the previous year’s champion received a bye until the final (what a luxury!), Norton had to win through the “all-comers” tournament, and faced the Spaniard Manuel Alonso in the all-comers final, defeating him in a hard-fought five sets. Alonso was one of the best Spaniards of the pre-WW2 era, spoken of highly by the great Tilden, and a member of the first Spanish Davis Cup teams in 1921-25.

It wasn’t until Manuel Santana emerged on the amateur tour that Spain truly made its mark on the global stage. At the 1961 French Championships, he beat Roy Emerson in the quarterfinal, a young Rod Laver in the semifinal, and then Nicolas Pietrangeli in the final. “Manolo” was one of the best amateurs of the 60s, though never went pro. He did, however, lead the 1965 Davis Cup team in a surprise victory over the US, though lost to the Emerson-led Australian team in the final.

While Santana was winning titles and glory on the amateur tour, his pro counterpart, Andrés Gimeno, was toiling away against prime Ken Rosewall and Rod Laver on the pro circuit, where he lost to the latter in three Pro Slam finals, once to Rosewall. Gimeno began his career in the 1950s as a successful amateur, including four titles in 1960, prompting him to go pro. Perhaps the most grueling event of the professional era was the World Professional Championships, which was a tour in its own right, involving two or more of the top professionals who would tour around the world, playing dozens of matches over several months. Gimeno participated in 1960, ’61, and ’63, finishing runner-up to Pancho Gonzales (who won the series seven times) in the first two, and 4th in the third.

Gimeno became the guy that you’d face in the Pro Slam semis or final, but never won one himself, sort of like the pre-2012 Andy Murray of the pro tour of the 1960s. But he did have great success, winning pro tournaments throughout the 60s at the expense of many top pros, including Laver, Rosewall, Frank Sedgman, and others.

The Open Era
When the Open Era dawned, both of Spain’s two stars, Santana and Gimeno, were 30 years old. Gimeno fared better, perhaps due to being honed on the more difficult pro tour. Santana did win seven Open Era titles in 1968-70, but they were all ATP 250 equivalents, and reached the 4th round of four Slams. In Ultimatetennisstatistics.com’s retroactive rankings, he finished 1968-71 in the 20-40 range, but never reached the top 10. Gimeno, on the other hand, was an excellent player for half a decade into the Open Era, finished 1968-69 and ’72 in the top 10, ranking as high as #3 in 1968 (again, these are retroactive rankings), culminating with his first and only Slam title in the 1972 French Open; at 34 years old, he remains the oldest first-time Slam winner.

Open Era Spanish tennis had a new star in Manuel Orantes, who was one of the ten or so best players of the 1970s, ranking mostly in the top 10 from 1972 to ‘78, winning 35 titles overall, including the 1975 US Open and the 1976 tour final, the Masters Cup. He was the last Slam-winning Spaniard until 1993, however, as Spain went through a dry spell over the next decade and half.

Juan Aguilera, with his win at the 1984 Hamburg Masters was the only Spaniard to win a Masters level tournament or higher during the 1980s. In the 90s, however, Spanish men’s tennis began to blossom as a wealth of players born in the 1960s and 70s began to come of age. Sergi Bruguera won the French Open two years in a row in 1993-94, then Carlos Moyá in 1998. Two more Spaniards, Albert Costa and Juan Carlos Ferrero, won it in 2002-03.

By the early years of the 21st century, Spanish tennis was thriving. Players such as Bruguera, Moyá, Ferrero, and Àlex Corretja, were entering the top 5 and winning Slams and Masters; a host of secondary players like Carlos Costa, Félix Mantilla, and Alberto Berasategui were also making a mark.

The arrival of Spain as a major tennis power was solidified when they finally won the 2000 Davis Cup, behind Albert Costa, Ferrero, Corretja, and Joan Balcells, defeating the Lleyton Hewitt-led Australian team. While Costa lost his final match to Hewitt, Ferrero made up for it by beating both Hewitt and Patrick Rafter. Furthermore, since then they have been winningest nation at the Davis Cup, with six titles in 2000, 2004, 2008, 2009, 2011, and 2019.

To further illustrate the sea change in Spanish men’s tennis, among the 46 Spanish men to win an ATP title during the Open Era, 6 of them were born in the 1930s-50s, and 36 of them in the 1960s-80s (with three in the 90s and one in the 00s…so far).

By the early 21st century, Spanish players had won five Slams in a span of 11 years, compared to just two Slams from 1968-92. Corretja added a Tour Finals in ‘98, and from 1990-2004, a total of 17 Masters titles went to Spaniards. But the best was yet to come…

The Bull of Manacor
If Spanish men’s tennis bloomed in the 90s, it went supernova in the 2000s with the arrival of Rafael Nadal, who jumped from #56 on January 17 to #2 on July 25 of 2005, after winning the French Open, four Masters titles, along with six lesser (ATP 500/250) titles that year. This was a kid with only one previous title to his name, and in 2005 he won eleven. As of today, Rafa’s overall accomplishments essentially far exceed that of all Spanish men until that point. 22 Slams for Rafa vs. 8 Slams vs other Spaniards (or 12, if we want to add in Santana’s). 36 vs. 21 Masters, five year-end #1s to none prior (until this year), 209 weeks at #1 to 10 prior. Ironically the only thing his predecessors have over him are the two Tour Finals titles by Orantes and Corretja, which is the one missing accomplishment on Rafa’s record.

Rafa’s accomplishments and exploits are too vast and varied to adequately summarize here, and really go beyond the scope of this series. But one element I’d like to highlight is how he utterly owned clay season as a whole, in a way that no player has ever dominated a single surface. Nadal has more clay Grand Slam titles (14) and clay big titles (40) than any other three men combined in the Open Era. The French Open had great champions before: In the pre-Open Era, Henri Cochet won 4 and Rene Lacoste won 3; during the Open Era, Bjorn Borg won 6, Mats Wilander, Ivan Lendl, and Gustavo Kuerten 3 times each. But after Wilander’s last in 1988 and until Rafa’s first in 2005 (so, 1989-2004), 12 different players won the title in a span of 16 years, with only Kuerten (3), Sergi Bruguera (2), and Jim Courier (2) winning it multiple times. Even the great clay courter of the 1990s, Thomas Muster, only won it once.

Rafa proceeded to win the French Open 14 times in a span of 18 years (2005-22), with an overall match record of 112-3 (97.4 W%), and a clay match record of 474-45 (91.3%). He also won Monte Carlo 11 times, Rome 10 times, and Barcelona 12 times, among others, with a total of 63 clay titles to his resume, most of them big tournaments.

While Rafa hasn’t had the same success at maintaining the #1 ranking as Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic, he holds the Open Era record for most weeks in the top 2 with 589—71 more than Federer, and, according to ultimatetennisstatistics.com, has been the #1 clay player by Elo ranking for an incredible 792 weeks – more than the second and third best clay courters by Elo, Ivan Lendl and Bjorn Borg, combined.

Couple his clay dominance with a non-clay career better than the totals of all but a few greats (8 Slams and 29 titles off clay), and you’ve got one of the greatest players in tennis history.

In the Wake of Rafa
Rafa’s rise and dominance over the last 18 years has masked a slightly weakening field of Spanish men (beyond him, of course), though it is hard to say how much of this is due to Rafa’s dominance on clay, the traditional domain of Spanish tennis. David Ferrer has been an excellent player, but beyond him are Tommy Robredo, Fernando Verdasco, Nicolás Almagro, Feliciano López, etc – some good players, but no Slam or Masters winners other than lone Masters titles by Robredo in 2006 and Ferrer in 2012. But that changed in 2022, again.

Which brings us to Carlos Alcaraz Garfia: the great hope of Spanish men’s tennis, and the heir apparent to Rafa. In 2022, a year he started at 18 years old, Alcaraz won two Masters, a Grand Slam, and finished the year as the youngest #1 in Open Era history at the tender age of 19. Along the way he beat Rafa and Novak once each. His rise has been astonishing: from #141 in 2020 to #32 in 2021 to #1 in 2022. He’s the most promising teenager to emerge on the tour since Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray, both born in 1987—16 years before Alcaraz—emerged a decade and a half ago.

17 years younger than Rafa, his breakout 17 years later...hmm. If you're a fan of Spanish tennis, then the future is rather bright.

It should also be mentioned that Lost Genner Pablo Carreño Busta snuck in a Masters title this year, becoming the sixteenth Spaniard of the Open Era to win a big title.

Here’s a chart by way of summing up male Spanish title winners during the Open Era, using my “El Dude Rating” (EDR):

Note that the chart is not spaced evenly, chronologically speaking. From Gimeno’s birth in 1937 to Alcaraz’s in 2003 is a span of 66 years, the mid-point of which is 1970, right before Bruguera on the chart. As you can see, Spanish men’s tennis has been stronger after than before. And consider also that Alcaraz’s column will continue to rise for years to come, almost certainly becoming the second highest EDR column within the next few years.

A Note on Spanish Women
Tennis players, that is! While the focus of this series is on ATP men’s tennis, I do want to mention the top female players. The women’s side has not had their Rafa, but they have had some really good players, with a total of 7 Grand Slams won by 3 women. The greatest is undoubtedly Arantxa Sánchez Vicario--the younger sister to, and more successful player than, Emilio Sánchez. Arantxa won the French Open three times and the US Open once, along with 29 total titles. While she was overshadowed by contemporaries Steffi Graf and Monica Seles, she was probably the third greatest female tennis player of the 1990s, and Jeff Sackmann ranks her as the 27th greatest tennis player of the last century, and one of best dozen or so female players.

The other Spanish Slam champions are Conchita Martínez, who won a Slam in 1994 and faced a similar problem as Sánchez Vicario (namely Graf) but was an excellent player in her own right, and Garbiñe Muguruza, who won a Slam in each of 2016 and ’17 and ranked #1 for a time.

Did you know?

• 46 male Spaniards have won Open Era titles.
• Ten Spaniards have played in an Open Era Slam final; of them, just two haven’t won a Slam (Àlex Corretja twice, Alberto Berasategui once).
• The Spaniard with the second most Slams didn’t win any of them during the Open Era (Manuel Santana with four Amateur Slams during the 1960s).
• Other than Rafa (and Santana), only one of the seven other Spaniards won multiple Slams: Sergi Bruguera with two.
• Speaking of Bruguera, he’s the only player to hold a winning record against both Pete Sampras (3-2) and Roger Federer (1-0). A small sample size, but a fun bragging right nonetheless.

Top 10 Male Spaniards of the Open Era

1. Rafael Nadal
2. Manuel Orantes
3. Juan Carlos Ferrero
4. David Ferrer
5. Carlos Moyá
6. Sergi Bruguera
7. Àlex Corretja
8. Carlos Alcaraz
9. Andrés Gimeno
10. Albert Costa

Honorable Mentions (#11-20): Jose Higueras, Tommy Robredo, Fernando Verdasco, Emilio Sánchez, Nicolas Almagro, Roberto Bautista Agut, Feliciano Lopez, Alberto Berasategui, Pablo Carreño Busta, Félix Mantilla.

When ordering players into ultimately arbitrary rankings, there are easy and difficult choices. Rafa is light years ahead of the pack, but then it gets interesting, as the next four players are all very close. While I think these four can reasonably be ranked in any order, I feel more comfortable about Orantes at #2 and Moyá at #5, less so about ordering Ferrer and Ferrero. Ferrer was more consistent over a longer period of time, but it is hard to get around Ferrero’s Slam and four Masters, not to mention reaching #1 and being a finalist in two Slams, so I’m giving the edge to the Mosquito. Ferrer might have been a better player, but had the misfortune of peaking alongside the Big Three, while Ferrero’s peak was just before the rise of Roger Federer. Plus, Ferrero has a special place in Spain's heart through leading them to their first Davis Cup championship.

Slam Absolutists will scoff at Bruguera being 6th, but he was relatively weak off clay and had a short peak: winning titles in 1991-94, despite playing from 1988-2002. He’s probably closer to Corretja than he is to the top 5. With his 2022 season, Alcaraz had the best season according to GOAT Points than any Spanish player not from Mallorca. I expect Alcaraz to pass Corretja and Bruguera in the next year or two, with a very good chance of reaching #2 on this list within the next half decade.

If we consider pre-Open Era records, Gimeno would be in the top five, but I’m only considering his Open Era record, which is still quite good, but took place entirely in his 30s. The tenth spot goes to the last Slam winner; Albert Costa wasn’t merely a one-Slam wonder, winning 12 titles overall including a Masters, but he was more of a top 20 player than a regular in the top 10.

Current Top Spaniards (by ATP ranking)

1. Carlos Alcaraz (#1 overall)
2. Rafael Nadal (2)
3. Pablo Carreño Busta (13)
4. Roberto Bautista Agut (21)
5. Alejandro Davidovich Fokina (31)
6. Albert Ramos Viñolas (39)
7. Jaume Munar (58)
8. Pedro Martínez Portero (62)
9. Bernabé Zapata Miralles (72)
10. Roberto Carballés Baena (74)
11. Pablo Andújar (122)
12. Fernando Verdasco (124)

We see a few older players aging out, with Fernando Verdasco the oldest player currently in the top 200 and, being born in 1983, the only member of Generation Federer (born 1979-83) still in the top 400 (Philipp Kohlschreiber is next at #421). After Alcaraz, the most promising young player is probably Alejandro Davidovich Fokina, who lost to Stefanos Tsitsipas in the Monte Carlo final this year, but after beating Novak Djokovic, Taylor Fritz, and Grigor Dimitrov. He seems overdue to start winning at least minor titles.

One final name to mention: Daniel Mérida Aguilar. He just turned 18 years old and hasn’t yet played on the ATP tour but is worth noting as the highest ranked Spaniard (he’s currently around 500) who is younger than Alcaraz.

Addendum: All-Spanish Slam Finals

1994: Roland Garros; Sergi Bruguera d. Alberto Berasategui​

1998: Roland Garros; Carlos Moyá d. Àlex Corretja​

2002: Roland Garros; Albert Costa d. Juan Carlos Ferrero​

2013: Roland Garros; Rafael Nadal d. David Ferrer​

 

[El Dude]

Re: the above...I promise that most won't be as long as this! I figure that the US, Australia, and Sweden will all be reasonably juicy, but the rest of the countries will be far shorter.

 

[Moxie]

A couple of things. Ferrero was "The Mosquito" not the "Spider," no? Is "The Spider" someone else? Maybe I misunderstood. Anyway, fantastic overview of Spanish men's tennis, with a mention of the women's, too.

One thing I have been wondering about, and can't seem to find evidence of, but I think that, in the era post-Franco, the Spanish Tennis Federation became stronger, and that has to have played into it. Franco died in 1975. Look at your chart: Corretja and A. Costa were born in 1974, Moyá in 1975. Spain opened up when Franco died, and many things flowered. With a felicitous climate for tennis, even many other players started going to train in Spain. I don't think it's a coincidence that, a generation after Franco died we see a huge surge in top tennis players. We also saw a surge in other athletes and artists, filmmakers, etc. coming out of Spain at this time, and since. The Spanish used to say, during Franco, that "Europe stops at the Pyrenees." That changed when Franco died. Just my theory as to one explanation for The Armada. It doesn't explain Nadal, who rejected the auspices of the Federation to be trained by his uncle at home in Mallorca, but there is no explaining super-novas.

 

[El Dude]

A couple of things. Ferrero was "The Mosquito" not the "Spider," no? Is "The Spider" someone else? Maybe I misunderstood. Anyway, fantastic overview of Spanish men's tennis, with a mention of the women's, too.

Whoops...why did I think he was the Spider?

One thing I have been wondering about, and can't seem to find evidence of, but I think that, in the era post-Franco, the Spanish Tennis Federation became stronger, and that has to have played into it. Franco died in 1975. Look at your chart: Corretja and A. Costa were born in 1974, Moyá in 1975. Spain opened up when Franco died, and many things flowered. With a felicitous climate for tennis, even many other players started going to train in Spain. I don't think it's a coincidence that, a generation after Franco died we see a huge surge in top tennis players. We also saw a surge in other athletes and artists, filmmakers, etc. coming out of Spain at this time, and since. The Spanish used to say, during Franco, that "Europe stops at the Pyrenees." That changed when Franco died. Just my theory as to one explanation for The Armada. It doesn't explain Nadal, who rejected the auspices of the Federation to be trained by his uncle at home in Mallorca, but there is no explaining super-novas.

That's a great theory...I briefly looked for reasons for the blossoming of Spanish tennis but couldn't find anything. It might also be that the modest success of Gimeno and Orantes inspired Spanish parents to put rackets in their young uns' hands. Meaning, Gimeno's Slam in 1972, Orantes in 1975, kids born..a few years later, tennis.

Anyhow, I kind of let this series go - I had Sweden basically finished, but didn't polish it up. I enjoyed writing it, but some kind of response is encouraging, and there wasn't any! Boohoo.

 

[Moxie]

Whoops...why did I think he was the Spider?

That's a great theory...I briefly looked for reasons for the blossoming of Spanish tennis but couldn't find anything. It might also be that the modest success of Gimeno and Orantes inspired Spanish parents to put rackets in their young uns' hands. Meaning, Gimeno's Slam in 1972, Orantes in 1975, kids born..a few years later, tennis.

Anyhow, I kind of let this series go - I had Sweden basically finished, but didn't polish it up. I enjoyed writing it, but some kind of response is encouraging, and there wasn't any! Boohoo.

It's the fallow season...don't get discouraged! I found this entry fascinating.

I still like my theory about the end of fascism in Spain. It was like the fall of the Berlin Wall. You shouldn't underestimate what a difference it made in their lives. If I were going to put it down to Orantes and Gimeno, or the end of Franco's regime, I'd go with the latter. Manolo Santana was much more influential, and he was from earlier times, so why didn't Spanish tennis coat-tail on him? Look at Spanish football, too. And Spanish film, even, post-Franco.

Anyway, very interested to read about Swedish tennis, as a huge Borg fan.

 

[Moxie]

Also, in terms of Spanish tennis, and the late 20th/early 21st C., there does become a snowball effect. What your graph doesn't show, I don't think, was the "depth on the bench" of Spanish tennis for such a long time, now. There were years, not so long ago, that there were consistently 15-16 Spanish players in the top 100, and often most of those were in the top 50. There were years when it was said that Spain could plausibly field 3 solid Davis Cup teams at once. We've forgotten Marcel Granollers by now, but he's still ranked top 20 in doubles and played in the YEC this year in dubs. Just as an example of their depth.

Then a player like Juan Carlos Ferrero becomes a coach, to Carlo Alcaraz, in his case. You reach a tipping point, and it becomes self-propagating, I think. There was a time, a few years ago, when the Armada was aging and even Uncle Toni was wondering where the next Spanish players were. But now, look at your list above: there are solid and interesting youngsters there, even if Alcaraz is clearly the only real stand-out.

 

[Kieran]

NATIONAL SPOTLIGHT 1: SPAIN

(“It isn’t just the Bull of Manacor…but it mostly is”)​

With the current top two players being Spaniards, why not start in España? In some ways, Spain has followed the reverse trajectory of twin behemoths of mid-to-late 20th century tennis, Australia and the United States; where those latter countries peaked decades ago, at least among men, Spain has really come into its own in recent decades – not just due to one particular fellow, but a strong field in the 90s and early 2000s, and now a rising young star.

The Chart: Spaniard Titles of the Open Era
Let’s start with a chart. Below is a visual depiction of all Spanish men who have won at least a single title – of which there are 46 players in the Open Era (See the intro for how this chart is formatted).

View attachment 7366
What stands out is the gradual build-up in the early 90s, which came into full fruition with the emergence of Rafael Nadal more than a decade later. But before getting to the Bull of Manacor, let’s go back to before the beginning of the Open Era…

The Time Before: A Quiet Presence
Men’s tennis basically didn’t exist in Spain before the 1960s. Well, it existed, but there were no Slam winners – not until Manuel Santana won four Amateur Slams starting in 1961.

Tennis essentially began as a sport of the former British Empire; in the first half a century or so, starting with the first all-British Wimbledon in 1877, it was dominated by Great Britain, the United States, and Australia. The US National tournament (later the US Open) began in 1881, the Australasian Championships in 1905. The Championnat de France—which later became the French Open—was first held in 1891, it didn’t open up to non-French club players until 1925, when it gained major designation by the ILTF. This was perhaps earned when the French waged a coup at Wimbledon the year before, when two Frenchmen—Jean Borotra and Rene Lacoste—fought over the Wimbledon title (Borotra won).

All four, especially Wimbledon, were first played by citizens of their respective nations; as airplane travel became more and more common-place in the 1920s and beyond, this gradually changed, reflected in the “internationalization” of Slams, slowly but steadily. It wasn’t until 1932 that an Italian reached a Slam final, a German in 1934, a Czech in 1938.

Here's a fun little trivia question: Who is the first men’s player not from the UK, USA, Australia or New Zealand to appear in a Slam final? That would be Brian Norton of South Africa, who lost to Bill Tilden in Wimbledon in 1921. This holds relevance to Spain because, to get to Tilden, who as the previous year’s champion received a bye until the final (what a luxury!), Norton had to win through the “all-comers” tournament, and faced the Spaniard Manuel Alonso in the all-comers final, defeating him in a hard-fought five sets. Alonso was one of the best Spaniards of the pre-WW2 era, spoken of highly by the great Tilden, and a member of the first Spanish Davis Cup teams in 1921-25.

It wasn’t until Manuel Santana emerged on the amateur tour that Spain truly made its mark on the global stage. At the 1961 French Championships, he beat Roy Emerson in the quarterfinal, a young Rod Laver in the semifinal, and then Nicolas Pietrangeli in the final. “Manolo” was one of the best amateurs of the 60s, though never went pro. He did, however, lead the 1965 Davis Cup team in a surprise victory over the US, though lost to the Emerson-led Australian team in the final.

While Santana was winning titles and glory on the amateur tour, his pro counterpart, Andrés Gimeno, was toiling away against prime Ken Rosewall and Rod Laver on the pro circuit, where he lost to the latter in three Pro Slam finals, once to Rosewall. Gimeno began his career in the 1950s as a successful amateur, including four titles in 1960, prompting him to go pro. Perhaps the most grueling event of the professional era was the World Professional Championships, which was a tour in its own right, involving two or more of the top professionals who would tour around the world, playing dozens of matches over several months. Gimeno participated in 1960, ’61, and ’63, finishing runner-up to Pancho Gonzales (who won the series seven times) in the first two, and 4th in the third.

Gimeno became the guy that you’d face in the Pro Slam semis or final, but never won one himself, sort of like the pre-2012 Andy Murray of the pro tour of the 1960s. But he did have great success, winning pro tournaments throughout the 60s at the expense of many top pros, including Laver, Rosewall, Frank Sedgman, and others.

The Open Era
When the Open Era dawned, both of Spain’s two stars, Santana and Gimeno, were 30 years old. Gimeno fared better, perhaps due to being honed on the more difficult pro tour. Santana did win seven Open Era titles in 1968-70, but they were all ATP 250 equivalents, and reached the 4th round of four Slams. In Ultimatetennisstatistics.com’s retroactive rankings, he finished 1968-71 in the 20-40 range, but never reached the top 10. Gimeno, on the other hand, was an excellent player for half a decade into the Open Era, finished 1968-69 and ’72 in the top 10, ranking as high as #3 in 1968 (again, these are retroactive rankings), culminating with his first and only Slam title in the 1972 French Open; at 34 years old, he remains the oldest first-time Slam winner.

Open Era Spanish tennis had a new star in Manuel Orantes, who was one of the ten or so best players of the 1970s, ranking mostly in the top 10 from 1972 to ‘78, winning 35 titles overall, including the 1975 US Open and the 1976 tour final, the Masters Cup. He was the last Slam-winning Spaniard until 1993, however, as Spain went through a dry spell over the next decade and half.

Juan Aguilera, with his win at the 1984 Hamburg Masters was the only Spaniard to win a Masters level tournament or higher during the 1980s. In the 90s, however, Spanish men’s tennis began to blossom as a wealth of players born in the 1960s and 70s began to come of age. Sergi Bruguera won the French Open two years in a row in 1993-94, then Carlos Moyá in 1998. Two more Spaniards, Albert Costa and Juan Carlos Ferrero, won it in 2002-03.

By the early years of the 21st century, Spanish tennis was thriving. Players such as Bruguera, Moyá, Ferrero, and Àlex Corretja, were entering the top 5 and winning Slams and Masters; a host of secondary players like Carlos Costa, Félix Mantilla, and Alberto Berasategui were also making a mark.

The arrival of Spain as a major tennis power was solidified when they finally won the 2000 Davis Cup, behind Albert Costa, Ferrero, Corretja, and Joan Balcells, defeating the Lleyton Hewitt-led Australian team. While Costa lost his final match to Hewitt, Ferrero made up for it by beating both Hewitt and Patrick Rafter. Furthermore, since then they have been winningest nation at the Davis Cup, with six titles in 2000, 2004, 2008, 2009, 2011, and 2019.

To further illustrate the sea change in Spanish men’s tennis, among the 46 Spanish men to win an ATP title during the Open Era, 6 of them were born in the 1930s-50s, and 36 of them in the 1960s-80s (with three in the 90s and one in the 00s…so far).

By the early 21st century, Spanish players had won five Slams in a span of 11 years, compared to just two Slams from 1968-92. Corretja added a Tour Finals in ‘98, and from 1990-2004, a total of 17 Masters titles went to Spaniards. But the best was yet to come…

The Bull of Manacor
If Spanish men’s tennis bloomed in the 90s, it went supernova in the 2000s with the arrival of Rafael Nadal, who jumped from #56 on January 17 to #2 on July 25 of 2005, after winning the French Open, four Masters titles, along with six lesser (ATP 500/250) titles that year. This was a kid with only one previous title to his name, and in 2005 he won eleven. As of today, Rafa’s overall accomplishments essentially far exceed that of all Spanish men until that point. 22 Slams for Rafa vs. 8 Slams vs other Spaniards (or 12, if we want to add in Santana’s). 36 vs. 21 Masters, five year-end #1s to none prior (until this year), 209 weeks at #1 to 10 prior. Ironically the only thing his predecessors have over him are the two Tour Finals titles by Orantes and Corretja, which is the one missing accomplishment on Rafa’s record.

Rafa’s accomplishments and exploits are too vast and varied to adequately summarize here, and really go beyond the scope of this series. But one element I’d like to highlight is how he utterly owned clay season as a whole, in a way that no player has ever dominated a single surface. Nadal has more clay Grand Slam titles (14) and clay big titles (40) than any other three men combined in the Open Era. The French Open had great champions before: In the pre-Open Era, Henri Cochet won 4 and Rene Lacoste won 3; during the Open Era, Bjorn Borg won 6, Mats Wilander, Ivan Lendl, and Gustavo Kuerten 3 times each. But after Wilander’s last in 1988 and until Rafa’s first in 2005 (so, 1989-2004), 12 different players won the title in a span of 16 years, with only Kuerten (3), Sergi Bruguera (2), and Jim Courier (2) winning it multiple times. Even the great clay courter of the 1990s, Thomas Muster, only won it once.

Rafa proceeded to win the French Open 14 times in a span of 18 years (2005-22), with an overall match record of 112-3 (97.4 W%), and a clay match record of 474-45 (91.3%). He also won Monte Carlo 11 times, Rome 10 times, and Barcelona 12 times, among others, with a total of 63 clay titles to his resume, most of them big tournaments.

While Rafa hasn’t had the same success at maintaining the #1 ranking as Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic, he holds the Open Era record for most weeks in the top 2 with 589—71 more than Federer, and, according to ultimatetennisstatistics.com, has been the #1 clay player by Elo ranking for an incredible 792 weeks – more than the second and third best clay courters by Elo, Ivan Lendl and Bjorn Borg, combined.

Couple his clay dominance with a non-clay career better than the totals of all but a few greats (8 Slams and 29 titles off clay), and you’ve got one of the greatest players in tennis history.

In the Wake of Rafa
Rafa’s rise and dominance over the last 18 years has masked a slightly weakening field of Spanish men (beyond him, of course), though it is hard to say how much of this is due to Rafa’s dominance on clay, the traditional domain of Spanish tennis. David Ferrer has been an excellent player, but beyond him are Tommy Robredo, Fernando Verdasco, Nicolás Almagro, Feliciano López, etc – some good players, but no Slam or Masters winners other than lone Masters titles by Robredo in 2006 and Ferrer in 2012. But that changed in 2022, again.

Which brings us to Carlos Alcaraz Garfia: the great hope of Spanish men’s tennis, and the heir apparent to Rafa. In 2022, a year he started at 18 years old, Alcaraz won two Masters, a Grand Slam, and finished the year as the youngest #1 in Open Era history at the tender age of 19. Along the way he beat Rafa and Novak once each. His rise has been astonishing: from #141 in 2020 to #32 in 2021 to #1 in 2022. He’s the most promising teenager to emerge on the tour since Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray, both born in 1987—16 years before Alcaraz—emerged a decade and a half ago.

17 years younger than Rafa, his breakout 17 years later...hmm. If you're a fan of Spanish tennis, then the future is rather bright.

It should also be mentioned that Lost Genner Pablo Carreño Busta snuck in a Masters title this year, becoming the sixteenth Spaniard of the Open Era to win a big title.

Here’s a chart by way of summing up male Spanish title winners during the Open Era, using my “El Dude Rating” (EDR):

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Note that the chart is not spaced evenly, chronologically speaking. From Gimeno’s birth in 1937 to Alcaraz’s in 2003 is a span of 66 years, the mid-point of which is 1970, right before Bruguera on the chart. As you can see, Spanish men’s tennis has been stronger after than before. And consider also that Alcaraz’s column will continue to rise for years to come, almost certainly becoming the second highest EDR column within the next few years.

A Note on Spanish Women
Tennis players, that is! While the focus of this series is on ATP men’s tennis, I do want to mention the top female players. The women’s side has not had their Rafa, but they have had some really good players, with a total of 7 Grand Slams won by 3 women. The greatest is undoubtedly Arantxa Sánchez Vicario--the younger sister to, and more successful player than, Emilio Sánchez. Arantxa won the French Open three times and the US Open once, along with 29 total titles. While she was overshadowed by contemporaries Steffi Graf and Monica Seles, she was probably the third greatest female tennis player of the 1990s, and Jeff Sackmann ranks her as the 27th greatest tennis player of the last century, and one of best dozen or so female players.

The other Spanish Slam champions are Conchita Martínez, who won a Slam in 1994 and faced a similar problem as Sánchez Vicario (namely Graf) but was an excellent player in her own right, and Garbiñe Muguruza, who won a Slam in each of 2016 and ’17 and ranked #1 for a time.

Did you know?

• 46 male Spaniards have won Open Era titles.
• Ten Spaniards have played in an Open Era Slam final; of them, just two haven’t won a Slam (Àlex Corretja twice, Alberto Berasategui once).
• The Spaniard with the second most Slams didn’t win any of them during the Open Era (Manuel Santana with four Amateur Slams during the 1960s).
• Other than Rafa (and Santana), only one of the seven other Spaniards won multiple Slams: Sergi Bruguera with two.
• Speaking of Bruguera, he’s the only player to hold a winning record against both Pete Sampras (3-2) and Roger Federer (1-0). A small sample size, but a fun bragging right nonetheless.

Top 10 Male Spaniards of the Open Era

1. Rafael Nadal
2. Manuel Orantes
3. Juan Carlos Ferrero
4. David Ferrer
5. Carlos Moyá
6. Sergi Bruguera
7. Àlex Corretja
8. Carlos Alcaraz
9. Andrés Gimeno
10. Albert Costa

Honorable Mentions (#11-20): Jose Higueras, Tommy Robredo, Fernando Verdasco, Emilio Sánchez, Nicolas Almagro, Roberto Bautista Agut, Feliciano Lopez, Alberto Berasategui, Pablo Carreño Busta, Félix Mantilla.

When ordering players into ultimately arbitrary rankings, there are easy and difficult choices. Rafa is light years ahead of the pack, but then it gets interesting, as the next four players are all very close. While I think these four can reasonably be ranked in any order, I feel more comfortable about Orantes at #2 and Moyá at #5, less so about ordering Ferrer and Ferrero. Ferrer was more consistent over a longer period of time, but it is hard to get around Ferrero’s Slam and four Masters, not to mention reaching #1 and being a finalist in two Slams, so I’m giving the edge to the Mosquito. Ferrer might have been a better player, but had the misfortune of peaking alongside the Big Three, while Ferrero’s peak was just before the rise of Roger Federer. Plus, Ferrero has a special place in Spain's heart through leading them to their first Davis Cup championship.

Slam Absolutists will scoff at Bruguera being 6th, but he was relatively weak off clay and had a short peak: winning titles in 1991-94, despite playing from 1988-2002. He’s probably closer to Corretja than he is to the top 5. With his 2022 season, Alcaraz had the best season according to GOAT Points than any Spanish player not from Mallorca. I expect Alcaraz to pass Corretja and Bruguera in the next year or two, with a very good chance of reaching #2 on this list within the next half decade.

If we consider pre-Open Era records, Gimeno would be in the top five, but I’m only considering his Open Era record, which is still quite good, but took place entirely in his 30s. The tenth spot goes to the last Slam winner; Albert Costa wasn’t merely a one-Slam wonder, winning 12 titles overall including a Masters, but he was more of a top 20 player than a regular in the top 10.

Current Top Spaniards (by ATP ranking)

1. Carlos Alcaraz (#1 overall)
2. Rafael Nadal (2)
3. Pablo Carreño Busta (13)
4. Roberto Bautista Agut (21)
5. Alejandro Davidovich Fokina (31)
6. Albert Ramos Viñolas (39)
7. Jaume Munar (58)
8. Pedro Martínez Portero (62)
9. Bernabé Zapata Miralles (72)
10. Roberto Carballés Baena (74)
11. Pablo Andújar (122)
12. Fernando Verdasco (124)

We see a few older players aging out, with Fernando Verdasco the oldest player currently in the top 200 and, being born in 1983, the only member of Generation Federer (born 1979-83) still in the top 400 (Philipp Kohlschreiber is next at #421). After Alcaraz, the most promising young player is probably Alejandro Davidovich Fokina, who lost to Stefanos Tsitsipas in the Monte Carlo final this year, but after beating Novak Djokovic, Taylor Fritz, and Grigor Dimitrov. He seems overdue to start winning at least minor titles.

One final name to mention: Daniel Mérida Aguilar. He just turned 18 years old and hasn’t yet played on the ATP tour but is worth noting as the highest ranked Spaniard (he’s currently around 500) who is younger than Alcaraz.

Addendum: All-Spanish Slam Finals

1994: Roland Garros; Sergi Bruguera d. Alberto Berasategui​

1998: Roland Garros; Carlos Moyá d. Àlex Corretja​

2002: Roland Garros; Albert Costa d. Juan Carlos Ferrero​

2013: Roland Garros; Rafael Nadal d. David Ferrer​

That’s a fantastic read, brother, and a great addition to our database and knowledge. Some of the honourable mentions are players I think as being like those next-tier Swedes who washed up on shore in the wake of Borg, Edberg and Wilander and nowadays all the Serbs following Novak, though they’re more contemporary really, aren’t they? It’ll be interesting to see how many kids come racing through, inspired by Rafa, now that Carlos has broken through. Will definitely look out for Aguilar!

Great stuff! Looking forward to more, when you have time!

By the way, I spent ages scratching my brain trying to remember the “other Swede” who won a lone slam. Tomas Johansson, on that embarrassing day for tennis when Safin, having thwarted the great Sampras in an earlier round thriller, turned up for the final with his winners prize already awarded and sitting gorgeously watching him in the players box.