Real Rivals Don’t Dislike Each Other, They Define Each Other

I read recently that both Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer have decided to skip the U.S. Open and are effectively shutting down their 2021 seasons. Soon enough, they will fade from the scene and a new generation of greats will slip into their place. I’ll miss them, but not individually so much as I will miss them as rivals who defined each other’s greatness over so many years.

Today we’re too quick to assign the term rivals to players who badmouth or photobomb each other at press conferences or engage in verbal skirmishes on social media. Those aren’t rivalries. Those are instances of childish behavior meriting detention slips. True rivalries are the stuff of legend – in sports, business, and life. We all have them, and if we’re honest with ourselves, they teach us who we are and where we stand relative to our own estimation of ourselves.

I love to watch the G.O.A.T as much as the next person, that singular player who just stands a few inches taller than anyone he or she competes against. It’s exciting to watch somebody who is literally changing the way the game is played right before your eyes. But I much prefer watching a great replay of Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer going head-to-head than yet another tournament where Tiger Woods blew away the field. Nicklaus and Palmer made you choose between two totally different styles of play: Nicklaus’ extraordinary consistency versus Palmer’s magnetism and brilliance.

I enjoyed watching Michael Jordan carry his great Chicago Bulls teams on his broad shoulders, but I felt much more passionately about the Lakers-Celtics rivalry during the heydays of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. The teams, the cities they represented, all differed markedly, so you had to pick a side, a style, a vision. Ditto for Peyton Manning versus Tom Brady, which pitted Manning’s southern, boy-next-door charm against Brady’s Californian jet-setter persona. If you loved sports competition, you could not like both of these guys.

Tennis has produced more than its share of defining rivalries, from Rod Laver and Ken Rosewall to John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg, Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, and Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi. The Federer and Nadal rivalry lasted for two decades in which, joined by Novak Djokovic, the three rivals each boasted 20 Grand Slam men’s titles. Their styles of play are as different as the men themselves, with Federer known for the artistry of his shot-making and Nadal the ferocity and power of his play. To love professional tennis is to choose a style we prefer to watch. It is probably one we prefer to emulate in our own game as well.

Rivalries define more than sports, of course. The Beatles famously changed their approach to songwriting and hit-making with Sgt. Pepper only after Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, in Pet Sounds, had raised the bar on the symphonic and experimental possibilities of popular music. Apple Computer and Microsoft Corporation defined for a generation the choice between two powerful opposites, with Steve Jobs’ edgy rebelliousness a counter to Bill Gates’ masterful ability to standardize computer applications. Both were revolutionary but there was no mistaking how the companies came to “stand” for very different things.

Proverbs 27:17 says, “Iron sharpens iron,” a passage I take to mean it is good to test our thoughts, assumptions, practices, and, yes, our skills with others of equal or greater ability. That is the only way we can know for sure what we are good at and where we can improve. I think most of us want to have this knowledge even if it can be painful to acquire. It may hurt to lose against somebody when you’re both applying for the same promotion or angling for an invitation to join a hot project.

Yet, other than through such competition, how can we know what holds us back from accomplishing something that seems out of reach?

I recently was talking with Jack Nicklaus at a launch party for his son’s book and asked him whether he enjoyed his showdowns with Palmer back in the Sixties. He told me he loved playing Palmer for two reasons: first, Palmer always brought out his best and, second, when he beat Palmer, he experienced double the joy of knowing he’d bested the best.

That’s the other thing you’ll see in a truly great rivalry—again, I think of Magic and Larry, Arnie and Jack, Chris and Martina and Roger and Rafael—it may take them a while, but ultimately, they come to realize their rivalry is based not on dislike but on the deepest kind of respect and even humility.

Those are the characteristics that ultimately define them.