Moral of the Federer Story

The misfortune of those who do not follow the tennis of our times is that they are missing a genius as rare as an asteroid strike

At the end of the sporting contest, the referee should ideally announce, along with the winner’s name, the moral of the match. This is because sport is often a story. It might be a simple message that would otherwise be dismissed as a cliché. But when transmitted through athletic effort, it could be deep.

The lesson from Roger Federer’s victory at the French Open was that persistence pays. If a friend told you that, you would pour beer on him for insulting you with a platitude. But when it comes through Federer’s determined pursuit of an elusive title, you see its value. Federer at the French Open was a winding narrative that began in 2005. Three times did Rafael Nadal thwart him. The fourth time Federer embarrassed him. The homicidal 6-1, 6-3, 6-0 victory in last year’s final seemed like the decisive punch. Superman was on the floor, powerless against an invisible kryptonite pendant around Nadal’s neck. But Federer, whose grace overshadows his work ethic and cunning, knew that there would someday be a Paris without Nadal. When that day came he would have to be ready. So he persisted.

Federer is now the greatest, irrespective of what happens at Wimbledon or other Grand Slams. He may yet find it difficult to beat Nadal, but does it matter that much anymore? Federer has 14 Grand Slam crowns. In 20 consecutive Grand Slams, he has reached the semi-finals, and in most cases proceeded to the finals. These statistics, coupled with the beauty of his game, have insured him against most arguments.

Until someone wins more majors, his vulnerability against Nadal would be seen like Obama’s smoking habit, a minor flaw in an otherwise unquestionable resume.

So Federer today exudes the satisfaction of a man who has accomplished the mission of his life. There is a book on The Godfather movie by Harlan Lebo. Titled The Godfather Legacy, it has a photo sequence of Marlon Brando in different stages of make-up. The last picture is of the actor post-shooting, without make-up. He looks young and has a wide grin that can be caused only by good work. ‘A vigorous 47-year-old, finished with his work on ‘The Godfather’, the caption says. Federer reminds you of that Brando photo.

Champions are remembered as much for their nuances as their records. Statistics are black and white and can be compared. Nuances are unquantifiable, and thus, irreplaceable. The place of champions in statistical books is temporary. When a record is erased, so is the old name. But the distinctive features of a player’s game and personality have an interminable life.

Bjorn Borg no longer has the record of most Open Era titles at Wimbledon. But his calm temperament or double-handed backhands are still instant recollections.

Nuances cover a wide range, from strokes to mannerisms. In Federer’s case, the first thing that comes to mind, apart from the obvious aspects of his game, is his forehand slice—also known as the squash shot. This is played either by hacks or pros. The hacks play it because they can’t play anything else. The pros play it as a defensive option, to float the ball back in play from difficult positions. Only a few pros use it, generally on clay, which is a slow surface. But Federer uses it on other surfaces too. And he employs it more often than others. He uses it almost every time he has to hit a forehand on the stretch. It is usually a last resort shot where the ball is too far or too low for him to hit over it. So he cuts the ball with a loose wrist. When done well, it even becomes an attacking shot. The underspin makes the ball skid after landing in the opponent’s court. You can see a few specimens of this on YouTube. They are from Federer’s matches against David Nalbandian and Richard Gasquet. Spectacular shots are born practically every minute off Federer’s racquet, but the ones he hit against Nalbandian in the French Open of 2006 will give your eyes an erection.

The strain of hitting a ball shows on players. Their faces contort. Deep creases form on Rafael Nadal’s forehead. Andy Murray’s eyebrows come closer at the middle, making him look a bit angry. Andre Agassi would look agonised, as if an invisible Steffi Graf was lashing him on the back for forgetting to get milk. Maria Sharapova looks as if she is shoving away a rival in the dash for a handbag. Federer, on the other hand, does not even grimace. Forehand or backhand, grass or clay, day match or night, he absorbs the blows with just an occasional tightening of the jaw. This helps in making his game appear effortless.

Last year, Tennis, an American magazine, carried out a study on the greatest strokes in the game in the Open Era (starting 1968). Federer won the vote for best forehand. (Sania Mirza was in the ‘Today’s Best’ short list). Telling Federer that he has a good forehand is like complimenting a chef for salad. There are harder things that he does. But while the forehand is relatively simple, it is also important.

As the magazine said, ‘Next to the serve, no shot is more terminal than the forehand, that is, no single shot is best poised to end a point more emphatically than a forehand.’ There are two things that make Federer’s shot special. The first is an upright wrist and racquet head as he awaits the ball. The second is his flatter follow-through that ends not above his left shoulder but to its side. It adds more whip to his shot.

It is not necessary that all players love their sport, but Federer does. It shows in his knowledge of tennis history and the respect he accords heroes of the past. Federer was criticised for breaking down at January’s Australian Open, after losing to Nadal. Rightly so. (If Federer becomes an actor he would not need glycerine to generate tears. He only has to think about Rafa.) But to be fair to him, he has also cried after winning tournaments. On the same Melbourne podium three years ago, receiving the trophy from Rod Laver, he had been unable to maintain his composure. The emotional bond that he has with tennis also has a sunnier manifestation. He enjoys long and quirky points and will often smile during them. In the 2005 Indian Wells final, he and Lleyton Hewitt played a 45-stroke rally. Federer lost that point. He was flat on the court, having gone for a lunging forehand. Yet, as he got back on his feet and regained breath, he was smiling. Sometimes, when he makes a magical passing shot and the entire stadium gasps in one breath, his face breaks in a half blush.

Federer will also rank as the most fashion conscious world no. 1 in the history of the game. For three years, he has been wearing commemorative jackets at Wimbledon. In 2007, it was a blazer. Last year, it was a cardigan. This time, it is an army-inspired design. Male tennis fans are not crazy about the jackets. Give us the track suit any day. Sportsmen, we feel, must look like sportsmen. But we grin and endure it because we know that within minutes of Federer’s entry on to the court, the stupid jacket will be off and the racquet will be out. That’s when the music will begin.

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