The Amazing Slider-Man
French tennis star Gael Monfils has battled injuries and maturity his entire life. What makes his story so unique?
The first time I saw a French superstar athlete go apeshit was the 2003 NBA Finals. It was Tony Parker.
Running around the court, seemingly like an aimless bat out of hell, Parker was the furthest thing from adrift—he was purposeful, he was careful and he was a tactician. With no regard for angles or direction, Parker was an illusionist desperately making sure we saw the trick for its face value.
Four years later, I was introduced to my next French athlete: Gael Monfils. An ostensibly no-name tennis player from Paris, Monfils smashed an unexpected forehand winner at an incomprehensible 120 miles-per-hour in the Australian Open. The ball blurred and faded into the seats like it wasn’t meant to be seen, like Monfils was trying to hide it.
I had to know more.
Little did I know, however, that I would soon become infatuated with the larger-than-life entity known as “Sliderman.” (Monfils’ nickname was originally given to him because of how he slides from side-to-side across the tennis court with seemingly little effort.)
If the kid plays like anyone the game has seen before, it would be Yannick Noah. The 28-year-old Monfils, now ranked 24th in the world, reminds fans of the masterful former French tennis superstar and the father of Chicago Bulls luminary Joakim Noah.
Noah was Monfils’ idol, a lodestar, even.
It’s easy to see the resemblance of Noah’s game in Monfils’ when he propels his body across courts; the feverish hyperactivity, the intense passion you can literally hear, the leave-it-all-on-the-court mentality. It draws you in. Like Noah before him, Monfils is a firecracker, treating every cross-court trip like a 15-yard suicide sprint.
It’s been that way since the beginning.
Monfils’ father, once a professional soccer player, handed his son a tennis racquet when Gael turned 2. By age 11, the prodigy was being filmed by television crews, and his athletic prowess became common knowledge across France.
“In my mind, without a doubt, he’s the fastest guy out here,” American James Blake once remarked after losing to Monfils. “If he’d started at a young age, he could have been a world-class sprinter.”
Monfils’ physical gifts could’ve made him anything he wanted athletically — a goalkeeper, a small forward, a long jumper, a crocodile hunter, the last leg-runner of the country’s national 100-meter relay team — but tennis was his calling card. As a teen, he trained alongside up-and-coming stars Jo-Wilfried Tsonga (now ranked 10th in the world), Richard Gasquet (14th) and Gilles Simon (31st). The French media dubbed them the “new musketeers.”
And that was before Monfils started winning everything.
In 2004, France’s golden boy won the junior finals at Roland Garros, Wimbledon and the Australian Open. He was crowned the International Tennis Federation’s Youth World Champion. Endorsement deals flooded in, and with them, Monfils’ private life became a public spectacle. Gone were the days of having a “normal” life:
“Before I became famous, it was different – much more spontaneous,” Monfils once said. “These days I’m asked so many questions: ‘Why me and not another girl? How do I know you’re sincere? You travel a lot, how can I be sure you’ll be faithful?’ It’s a real headache.”
In a sport often portrayed by crowds of mid-40s, polo-wearing, country club-joining dentists, Monfils doesn’t have the traditional look. He resembles something closer to an athletic Wiz Khalifa than a professional tennis player, but his unorthodox appearance and his playing style are precisely what makes him a must-watch. Before this season’s more conservative exterior, there were the cornrows and headbands fit for a ‘90s NBA bench player. The auburn Afro was a personal favorite.
But it isn’t all about the look when it comes to Monfils. Watch any of his matches and you’ll find a high volume of trick shots.
Earlier this season against Novak Djokovic in Toronto, Sliderman got caught flat-footed on a Djokovic volley, and rather than attempting a traditional forehand or backhand return, he jumped and hit the ball between his legs. It was vintage Monfils. And it was glorious.
At the Halle tournament in 2013, Monfils intentionally let a soaring return from Tommy Haas bounce between his legs so he could hit a 360-degree slice. He lost the point, but at least he managed to land the shot, I guess.
Monfils is a YouTube sensation. Sometimes it seems as if he’s making things more difficult for himself just to see if he can unlock a moment that both the crowd and he can hold onto. Most of the time — miraculously — it works.
Unfortunately for Monfils, though, his reputation for power and aggression are often dwarfed by his overactive play and mental gaffes. It’s easy for opponents to spot when he’s flustered, and when it happens, his game often unravels. That’s not atypical for an emotional athlete who’s invested in the game, but successful players must strike a balance between showmanship, efficiency and control. To date, Monfils has not mastered all three.
Overworking himself has also become Monfils’ bugaboo. Like with Derrick Rose in the NBA and Robert Griffin III in the NFL, injuries are par for the course (I love you, Derrick), but reckless playing styles don’t help matters. Monfils’ injuries have turned his massive upside into a big question mark.
“His potential is unbelievable,” says Rafael Nadal. “But similar to me, when you play very aggressive with that flexibility, you have more chances to get injured.”
Monfils seems to live to bring the crowd to its feet, lifting his hands upward after highlight-worthy points — it’s almost as if he is egging them on. He wants more, they want more and the two combine to create a resounding force that pushes the Frenchman forward.
“Sometimes it’s better because you get a good fight and a good sweat, and the crowd loves it,” he says. “It’s good sometimes to fight.”
“People say I slide too much. To me it’s a gift. It’s natural. It may be different, but I’m me. I’m more of an artist. I create new styles because I don’t want to lose.”
Monfils will burn through two pairs of shoes in a hard-court match on a slow day. It makes him worth watching. The legend of “Sliderman” can only be played by one person; he’s a marvel of mechanics almost to a fault, always pushing the limits to see what else is possible.
“Gael’s athleticism is incredible. He can jump high, hit incredibly hard and do pretty much anything,” Andy Murray told ESPN.com. “He’s very, very talented. But you need to be playing if you want to improve in the rankings.”
Monfils was playing in the 2008 French Open. Unseeded and having won just five matches on tour to date, Monfils throttled then-world No. 28 Ivan Ljubičić and then-world No. 5 David Ferrer to make the semis. He danced to keep himself loose, something he’s continued in subsequent years. Pitted against top-ranked Roger Federer, Monfils clashed with the Swiss legend in front of his countrymen at Roland Gerros; the first time a Frenchman had made the semi-finals in seven years. It didn’t even matter that he lost.
Monfils had arrived.
His uptick continued in 2009, besting then-World No. 2 Rafael Nadal at Doha in straight sets, but mental collapses against Andy Roddick later in the U.S. Open and friend Gilles Simon in the Australian Open cast a shadow over said arrival on the global tennis scene.
Then, the injuries returned.*
*Monfils suffers from Osgood-Schlatter disease, a debilitating condition that is analogous to putting a small stone just beneath the skin adjacent your kneecap and being told to run. Obviously, when his joints are inflamed, tennis is a challenge, to say the least.
Determined not to let his physical issues derail his ascension, the Frenchman entered the ATP world top-10 in 2011 and was rated as high as seventh at one point. But again, Monfils’ ascent was short-lived due to injuries. He missed the entire 2012 season on account of a bum knee — an injury that very well could have ended his career.
Now, healthier than he has been in recent years, Monfils headed to New York with a 25–12 record in 2014. He took out American Jared Donaldson and Colombian Alejandro Gonzalez in straight sets. In the third round, he met his former training partner Richard Gasquet — a player eight seeds higher than him — and won again in straight sets. In the fourth round, he took on No. 7 seed Girgor Dimitrov (8th in the world) and beat him in straights, too.
Now, to bring things full circle, he gets another crack at Federer in the quarterfinals. The two played just last month in Cincinnati, with the Swiss legend winning the best-of-three match, 6–4, 3–6, 6–3. Federer has won seven of the nine career meetings between the two.
The French proverb L’arbre cache souvent la forêt translates to “can’t see the forest for the trees.” Monfils embodies this maxim each time he steps foot on hardcourt, grass or clay.
He doesn’t trust the crowd, but he knows he needs them. He doesn’t let them in, but they feed off his every move. For someone who has won five singles titles and is a former French No. 1, Monfils could do without the pageantry of the sport.
“It’s more that I love playing tennis. I love the sport,” he said. “I want to win, but I love playing tennis. Win or lose, if I give 100 percent, it’s the best.”
Maybe that’s why the crowd can’t get enough. Maybe his insatiable thirst to entertain is exactly what he needs to thrive. Maybe it makes perfect sense that a person who fits the archetype for uncontainable chose a sport where the confines and expectations couldn’t be more precise.
And maybe, just maybe, Monfils has found the balance that so many think he’s still looking for in order to unlock his potential.
