What are the greatest shots in tennis history? We pick out the game’s most fearsome weapons stroke by stroke, concentrating on the Open Era (since 1968).

By Joel Drucker

Part X: Movement

Initially when we talk of movement in tennis we think of those who best track down one ball after another.  These are the rabbits, the men and women who oppress opponents by dint of their exceptional defense.  Two Open era men that come to mind are a pair of claycourt masters, Bjorn Borg and Rafael Nadal.

Borg was one of the game’s first lopers, a gazelle of a man with an exceptionally low pulse and a wonderfully tapered physique.  Many pros felt that on clay the Swede was so fast it was nearly impossible to win a point against him.   In an era where there are even more thundering baseliners, Nadal has taken that defensive model to new heights, scampering to corners, moving forward and turning up the volume, particularly with his forehand.  Honorable mention in recent times goes to Lleyton Hewitt and Michael Chang.

But another way to look at footspeed is to see how a player uses his or her wheels for offense.  Vitas Gerulaitis hummed into volleying position.  Pete Sampras moved fast enough to put himself constantly on the aggressive end of a point.

Our choice for raw velocity is a woman who’s played her fair share of both – Venus Williams.  Raised to conceive of herself as an offensive player, but for much of her career, the hallmark of her career has been her pterodactyl-like defense.  Still, as seen during her four Wimbledon victories, when Williams transitions that sweeping defense into offense, she is one rough customer.

Then there’s footwork, not to be confused with footspeed.  The race in tennis is not necessarily won by the one who is most swift.  After all, the vast majority of movement in tennis is rarely further than four yards.  And as every recreational player knows, the balls that come slow and soft reveal with a vengeance the limits of a player’s footwork.  It’s how adeptly you move around the ball that can be exceptionally telling.

So how best to define footwork?  Think of it this way:  How well did the player make all those little adjustment steps so that he or she could repeatedly be in the best possible position to most effectively strike the ball?   By this definition, someone with the superb footspeed of Venus Williams – constantly forced to improvise and get out of her own way – does not have anywhere near the footwork of, say, the exceptionally consistent, proficient and reliable Chris Evert.  Evert’s discipline was extraordinary.  Rarely was she seen off-balance or unable to strike the ball emphatically.  

Over the course of careers that each lasted 20 years – twice the length of most – Ken Rosewall and Jimmy Connors each showed sublime footwork.  Rosewall was an acoustic glider in the manner of Fred Astaire, Connors a squeaky shuffler.  Like Evert, each usually was poised for quality contact.

Steffi Graf represents an unusual case, combining both Olympic-like speed and exceptional discipline.  Though it’s impossible to assail her Slam tally, it’s fascinating that Graf employed her speed much more side-to-side than to come forward.  Still, she ranks among the very best in both departments. 

But when it comes to harnessing speed and discipline together, no one does it better than Roger Federer.  So adept is Federer at tracking the ball that he seems able to float to it.  Of course he’s actually moving swiftly.  Yet Federer’s feet rarely scamper.  With unsurpassed posture, he is always able to adjust his feet and strike the ball precisely on his terms.  That is the true goal of footwork: To get there in time – and place – so that you have the widest range of options.

Joel Drucker is a contributing editor at TENNIS magazine. The author is grateful for the assistance of many experts and former pros, including Brent Abel, John Barrett, Steve Flink, Mary Carillo, Trey Waltke, Chris Lewis, John Newcombe, Owen Davidson, Fred Stolle and Brian Gottfried.