Ah, there he is, as predictable as a Rolex, the very anti-thesis of the summer weather in London, awaiting his moment with all the enthusiasm and glee of a five-year-old who’s been told that he’d get his hands on the toy drone if only he behaved.
His arrival at this stage — semifinals — was almost a formality. He, as well as all of us, has kind of got used to it over the years.
Nirmal Shekar On grass, at Wimbledon, the mightiest of men has tried doing it their way. But only a handful have been quite as consistently successful in sticking to their guns, as Federer has done time and time again.
Twelve years ago, on the middle Sunday of Wimbledon, pondering the road ahead for the eight men left — and the smart London bookies installing the uber celebrity Andre Agassi as the top favourite, followed by Andy Roddick and Tim Henman — I chose to look past them at the man who had beaten the peerless Pete Sampras in the fourth round the year before.
“In terms of pure talent, if not entirely on the form displayed during the first week, Roger Federer is my choice for the men’s championship,” I wrote on Sunday, June 29, 2003, soaking up the sun on the pavement outside a wonderful little pub in the Wimbledon village.
“The 22-year old from Switzerland has so far disappointed in the Slams but this week he has shown the sort of one-pointed focus that he has lacked in the past. How well Federer will stand up to the challenges ahead remains to be seen,” I concluded.
And when the challenge did come, in the form of the meteoric Andy Roddick, the following day, there was one shot that Federer played that still remains in my mind. It was the kind of shot that the late, self-loathing saint-genius, David Foster Wallace, might have surely counted among his Federer Moments.
In the semifinal against Roddick, Federer hit an approach shot and moved forward. (Yes, he did that more often in his first two or three Wimbledons than in the rest of his career at London, SW 19).
Roddick’s superb reply came dipping over the net and Federer was caught in an awkward position.
Mere mortals would have lost that point and thought nothing about it. Good players would have attempted something out of the ordinary. Great players might have got the ball back in play.
A shot of genius As it turned out, Federer, with a magical flick of the wrist, half volleyed it for a crosscourt winner. It was a shot of genius, pure genius.
In four decades of watching tennis at the highest levels, this columnist has seen only two or three players who were capable of consistently playing shots like that. The first was that lovable left-handed rascal, John McEnroe, a touch mellowed now as an expert commentator.
Boris Becker did it with his athleticism; there was no suggestion of artistry in the process. But when McEnroe or Federer played that shot, you wanted to capture the moment and preserve it in the Lourve in Paris or in the Natural History Museum in Kensington.
Sporting evolution seldom leads to such exclamation points and there is hardly a guarantee that these moments can be replicated.
Then again, connoisseurs of sport — of whom there are many in the All England Lawn Tennis Club — know an uber moment when they have witnessed one. While greatness does not require a quorum, as the stands erupted on that Friday on the Centre Court, you knew Wimbledon’s new royalty had arrived.
That successful fortnight was one during which Federer not only played with the self-belief of great champions but also had the air of an adventurer who had found new vistas in his own heart and soul.
Explosive serves, spectacular return winners, an array of passing shots, volleys knocked off with insolent ease…all this capped by the sort of hunger for victory that you saw in blood and sweat when the ‘Raging Bull’ Jake LaMotta was in the ring.
If you have not seen that Martin Scorsese classic, find it on YouTube and you will wonder how a mere mortal with no boxing expertise can recreate LaMotta as magnificently as did Robert De Niro.
As for Federer, even the great Scorsese would think twice before getting someone to audition for the part. And you cannot get anyone from Central Casting for the role.
Perhaps, even De Niro’s third way of doing things won’t get him anywhere near a flawless Federer Moment.
