WHY WE HATE TO SEE ROGER FEDERER LOSE BY CRAIG CIGNARELLI

Written by: on 22nd August 2015
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WHY WE HATE TO SEE ROGER FEDERER LOSE BY CRAIG CIGNARELLI

Roger Federer of Switzerland returns to Andy Murray of Britain in their semi final match during the Wimbledon Championships at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, in London, Britain, 10 July 2015. EPA/FACUNDO ARRIZABALAGA  |

Novak Djokovic is one hell of a tennis player. The ground game is nearly flawless, his movement and flexibility are extraordinary, penetrating his defense requires the kind of creativity one finds in the Shawshank Redemption, is volleys technique is almost as tight as his haircut, and his returns take IRS agents to climax. While he began his career with an arrogant streak, his time at number one has taught him about humility, ambassadorship, and the responsibilities of an elite member of this royal game. The 2015 Wimbledon title will sit well upon his mantle. And yet…

 

There’s this thing about Roger Federer. Several years back, David Foster Wallace wrote a piece called Federer as Religious Experience, claiming:

The metaphysical explanation is that Roger Federer is one of those rare, preternatural athletes who appear to be exempt, at least in part, from certain physical laws. Good analogues here include Michael Jordan, who could not only jump inhumanly high but actually hang there a beat or two longer than gravity allows, and Muhammad Ali, who really could “float” across the canvas and land two or three jabs in the clock-time required for one. There are probably a half-dozen other examples since 1960. And Federer is of this type — a type that one could call genius, or mutant, or avatar. He is never hurried or off-balance. The approaching ball hangs, for him, a split-second longer than it ought to. His movements are lithe rather than athletic.

 

Roger Federer of Switzerland returns to Andy Murray of Britain in their semi final match during the Wimbledon Championships at the All England Lawn Tennis Club, in London, Britain, 10 July 2015. EPA/FACUNDO ARRIZABALAGA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now at age 33, we expect a rush to the end, a career-ending avalanche that sees his ranking fall from #2 down to…well…number two. But it isn’t happening. He moved through the draw so quietly you almost expected a fin to appear before he surfaced. Then, in the semi-finals, he gave defending champion Andy Murray the kind of beating that could straighten an Englishman’s teeth. Two sets into the final, one had to wonder whether Roger had been swimming with his kids in the fountain of youth. For a brief moment, the impossible seemed possible.

 

At this point, he is one major title short of being able to play a round of golf and to putt into a different trophy on every hole. He’s been stalwart in his relationship, now traveling to each tournament with two pair in his hands and a full car instead of a full house. In post-match interviews, his ambassadorship for the game is mind-bending, noting his fame across Africa, South America, and the rest of the globe. There are tales of Federer taking ball kids out for pizza, sticking around late into the night to take photos with sponsors, all the while knowing he has a match the next morning. He has a foundation - The Roger Federer Foundation enhances a world where children living in poverty are able to take control of their future and actively shape it thanks to access to high quality early learning and education – and has changed thousands of children’s lives. Still, there is something that compels us to cheer for this old soldier that never seems to die.

 

Perhaps it is the classic grip – hovering around the lower half of bevel three and unwilling to drop off into the nether regions where there rest of the world’s baseliners hang. Or maybe we can’t let go of the movement, the balletic float that sees him silently soar across the court and makes us lean in to listen to his feet in ways that conjure images of children trying to hear the last words of a dying parent. It could be the shot-making, those irresolvable flicks of the racquet which generate “ooh’s” from the crowd and pleas of unfairness from opponents. But I think it’s something else.

 

Like Ali and Jordan, he’s always searching for an instant of showmanship. There’s this “look what I can do” mentality about him. Whether it’s slicing a missed first serve into a ball kid’s awaiting hands, or pulling a drop shot back onto his side of the net, he maintains a sense of play. I think his heart still pulses with a love for the game. One can still imagine Roger’s mother calling from the house and the boy ignoring the command to “come inside for dinner.” Suns do not set upon some champions.

 

At 33, as he pursues perfection one more time, as he attempts to conquer the final opponent for an eighteenth slam, as he staves off the avalanche of retirement for one last chance at a workplace summit, Roger Federer is still having fun.

 

And who wants a guy like that to lose?

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