The Last Serve: Big Four Unite At Rafael Nadal’s Farewell At The French Open

For a brief instant, audiences getting a glimpse of the big four inside Court Philippe‑Chatrier, and on their telly screen is one hell of a surreal moment. Four men who reigned over tennis – Federer. Nadal. Murray. Djokovic – won Slams after Slams.

They dominated the court like we were watching a saga unfold live. But that’ not the only power these men held. Federer wrote op-eds for The New York Times, Nadal was profiled in The Paris Review and remember that shirtless Armani campaign he did! Djokovic became a walking geopolitical thesis. And Murray? He gave feminism the deadpan, no-nonsense champion it didn’t know it needed.

Without needing to pose as contributors to the larger culture, these four men left an indelible mark- raising a generation of men and women who fell in love with Tennis because of them. Not ones to shy away from expressing anger, vulnerability, grace, and gentlemanliness, each known for their distinct play, stood next to one another at Nadal’s farewell ceremony in the Roland Garros, reminding us of the mythic greatness these players brought along.

The elaborate farewell for the King of Clay, Rafael Nadal, follows his official retirement from professional tennis last November, marking the end of one of the greatest sporting careers in the history of the game.

Marking the end of his competitive career at the French Open, a tournament that over the years have been synonymous with him. The 14-times champion of the Roland Garros title, first as a 19-year-old in 2005 to now a retiring at 38-years of age, Nadal was emotional as the crowd cheered him on with a standing ovation and the crowd spelled out: “14 RG” alongside the image of a trophy on one side and “Rafa” bracketed by two hearts on the other.

Moreover, a permanent plaque instalment bearing the 22 times Grand Slam winner’s footprint was also unveiled at the ceremony, serving as a lasting tribute to his legacy at the French Open at the very court where it all started.

“When I saw it, I thought It would only be for this year. When they told me it would be forever, I can’t describe my emotions. It’s a great honour.” Nadal expressed at the post ceremony conference.

But of course, this is about something more than tennis.

A chapter nearly closing for a generation of men (Djokovic is rumoured to retire this year, too) who changed not only how the game was played, but also how athletes were seen. They shaped how we understand competition, respect, emotion, and excellence. They made us expect discipline and grit on courts.

Obviously, all four players were different in the way they played tennis but also in how they acted off the court. Federer was calm and polite, even when he lost. Nadal was very intense during matches, but always respectful and kind outside of them. Djokovic could be controversial, but he was never afraid to speak up about what he believed. Murray was known for being quiet and serious, and his support women in tennis made him stand out.

“To have my three biggest rivals there in the court with me meant a lot, no? And at the same time it’s a great message for the world, I think, that best rivals, toughest rivalries probably in the history of our sport, are able to be good colleagues, to respect each other. You don’t need to hate the opponent to try to beat him with all your forces,” Nadal shared.

Even though they competed against each other a lot, but you could tell they still admired each other. (You still can) Their games changed because of how good their rivals were: Federer had to adapt to Nadal’s spin, Nadal had to deal with Djokovic’s defense, and Murray was a tactician, who also was bristly, brutally honest, emotionally open in ways athletes rarely allow themselves to be.

Later, in a press conference post-farewell, Nadal shared his friendship with Murray and their rivalry moving beyond the confines of Tennis to football. Nadal said that while they hadn’t texted in a while, last month, after Arsenal beat Real Madrid, Nadal, a known Madrid loyalist, got a message from the Scot. He pulled out his phone with a grin, “I’m gonna read it, because it’s quite good,” he said.

“‘Hey Rafa, haven’t spoken to you in a while. Just checking in to make sure you are OK.’” Nadal paused, still laughing. “At first I thought, ‘Wow, how nice—he’s checking on me, my family.’ And then five seconds later I realised, ah—British humour.”

He never texted back, he added with a smile. “I didn’t say anything when PSG beat Arsenal.”

Watching them now standing in line, slightly older, slightly softer around the edges, you could feel a collective memory clicking into place. A nostalgia not for youth, but for the certainty they once offered—that brilliance would always show up at Centre Court. That Sundays were for epic five-setters. That greatness could be humble. That masculinity could be gentle. And fierce. And expressive.