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Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals
Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals
Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals
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Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals

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Well-known sports journalist and writer of the #1 tennis blog on the web, TennisWorld, Peter Bodo's newest eBook is devoted to the player who holds six Wimbledon titles and countless others, Olympic gold medalist Roger Federer. With his unique insights into The Mighty Fed’s playing style, greatest rivalries, stunning winning streak (and possible decline), and even his fashion choices, Bodo chronicles the golden middle period of Federer’s career, 2006-2009. Including interviews with Federer himself, this book provides a quick-paced, passionate look at tennis’s greatest superstar.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 30, 2012
ISBN9781938120398
Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals

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    Roger Federer - Peter Bodo

    Roger Federer: The Man, The Matches, The Rivals

    Copyright

    Diversion Books

    A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

    80 Fifth Avenue, Suite 1101

    New York, New York 10011

    www.DiversionBooks.com

    Copyright © 2012 by Peter Bodo

    All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

    For more information, email info@diversionbooks.com.

    First Diversion Books edition June 2012.

    ISBN: 978-1-938120-39-8 (ebook)

    Introduction

    I started writing my Peter Bodo’s TennisWorld blog in 2005, almost two years after Roger Federer won his first Grand Slam event, at Wimbledon. Over the ensuing years, as TennisWorld evolved into the most popular tennis-related weblog, I wrote —literally—reams of posts about Federer, both while covering events in which he was entered and between times, when I was moved to write what is commonly known as a think piece.

    As I write this, Federer is 30 years old and the all-time male Grand Slam singles champion. He’s still going strong, as his brilliant record between the US Open of 2011 and late May of 2012 amply demonstrates. Yet it’s become harder and harder for him to mount the required resistance against two much younger rivals, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. He hasn’t won a Grand Slam tournament in two-and-a-half years.

    This tells me it’s a good time to collect some of what I consider my best work about Federer. I’ve selected what I feel are my most interesting posts, culled mainly from that golden middle period of his career (2006-2009). While I believe many of Federer’s interesting and memorable adventures occurred at sub-Grand Slam tournaments, most of the posts collected here are from the Big Four events, the Grand Slams around which the tennis world revolves—the Australian, French and US Opens and Wimbledon.

    I hope that these posts not only do justice to Roger, and shed light on his beautiful game and deceptively compelling personality (has there ever been a great, great athlete less seemingly affected by an unprecedented degree of success?).

    However, I have to caution those who are expecting pure hagiography—I’ve tried to keep a level head and appreciate not only the accomplishments and personality of the man, but to identify and analyze what shortcomings he’s had, or mistakes he’s made. That’s a critic’s job, and the combination of my 40 years of experience covering tennis and my evolution into an opinion journalist has turned me into just that.

    Long time readers of TennisWorld know that I have consistently referred to Federer as The Mighty Fed (TMF). I liked the sound of that, because of the overtones the I can best describe as cartoonish (I often called his great rival Rafael Nadal Jet Boy for the self-same reason). I felt at the time that those nicknames would add a bit of whimsy and levity to our discussions of these somewhat larger-than-life characters, and somewhat alleviate the temptation to treat these sports heroes as demi-gods.

    At first, I was unsure of just how to organize the material I had, given how much of it is rooted in daily coverage of Roger’s matches. I finally settled on creating three loose categories: The Man, The Matches, and The Rivals.

    In the first of those sections, The Man, I am including mostly interpretive posts about Federer’s character and personality, both as a competitor and a human being.

    In The Matches, I focus on some of his greatest wins as well as some toughest losses; every portrait of an individual, especially an athlete who competes as frequently as TMF, is incomplete if you leave out the difficult bits.

    In The Rivals, I include posts about the men who have given him the most trouble or had a long and rich history with him.

    There is admittedly some overlap between these categories; the posts don’t fit quite so neatly into predetermined niches—not least because they were all written on the trot, influenced by the events, mood, and ambience of the day and event. Taken together, I hope they convey a sense of where Federer—and his rivals—were at specific times in recent years. And I hope the end result is a kind of living, day-by-day history of Federer at the peak of his career.

    In the interest of clarity and continuity, I’ve made some minor revisions to some of these posts, and I added a brief introductory note as a preface to each one.

    Pete Bodo, New York, June 2012

    The Man

    Does 'Federer' Exist?

    September 6th, 2007

    [This post was written during the US Open of 2007, where Federer won his fourth consecutive US Open title; it was, in retrospect, the last year of his absolute dominance, which helps explain why I chose to write this.]

    About midway through last night’s second set of the US quarterfinal between Andy Roddick and Roger Federer––meaning about the time that The Mighty Fed was getting so close to having a break point that he could almost see it with the aid of the Hubble telescope––a smitten female fan somewhere behind where Steve Tignor and I sat hollered, Federer, you’re unreal!

    Now that got me thinking. TMF certainly is unreal. But what if were, well, really unreal?

    What if this Federer didn’t really exist, except as some Jungian figment of the imagination of all those aesthetes who ever had to sit through a Luis Horna vs. Mariano Zabaleta match on clay? Or perhaps this Federer is an android, built by a bored, unemployed, Swiss timepiece designer. I mean, come on––doesn’t this whole thing about Federer coming from Switzerland have Jamaican Bobsled Team written all over it, except for the fact that the Jamaicans in question couldn’t find their way to the bottom of the hill with a map, while Federer is already, according to some, the GOAT (Greatest of All Time)?

    Doesn’t it strike you as just a little bit suspicious?

    Hail, maybe this Federer started out as an idea in the mind of some Sega Genesis game designer, but the algorithms just got out of hand and Federer leaped across the Great Divide like some android or a replicant out of a Philip K. Dick novel. Or maybe he’s just a good old-fashioned hologram, like on your credit card. In any event, I think it’s high time we asked: Does Roger Federer really exist?

    The arguments for those who suspect there is no such thing as a Roger Federer, that we’re just the victims of some humongous cosmic tennis prank, falling head-over-heels for a character no more real than Bart Simpson, Superman, or Zac Efron, were never better articulated than last night. Andy Roddick has a gigantic serve. He’s a former US Open champion, and he’s been World No. 1. And he’s bigger, stronger, and more experienced now than he was back then.

    Last night, Roddick was flat-out playing his best tennis on a court that, if you believe what many of the players are saying, is faster than Wimbledon’s Centre Court. And he was doing this was in front of an adoring American crowd, willing him to win with a vibe so strong that it put all that harmonic convergence baloney of a few years ago to shame.

    And yet. . . at the end of the second set, what was the score? Federer was rolling toward the finish line, 7-6, 7-6, to be continued. . . Now, isn’t that enough to make even the Cartesian reality freaks among you wonder, at least a teensy-weensy bit?

    How about what Roddick said after he lost in straight sets: You know, I thought I made him play as well as he could play. . . Personally, I think it was just tact that kept him from finishing that sentence: . . . for somebody who’s really an android, hallucination, psychic projection or some other weird thing.

    Beyond that, do you ever notice that this so-called Roger Federer has perfect hair that never seems to get mussed or out-of-place––the dude looks like one of those pictures your local barber has tacked up all around his mirror, hoping you’ll be hoodwinked into dropping an extra Jackson on the full I want to look like I’m in a boy band! look.

    You ever see human being Rafael Nadal’s hair? Notice how wet and stringy it gets, and how it flies all over the place when he runs around, because he’s working so danged hard? Now that’s genuine human hair––tennis player cum rock star hair. How about Nikolay Davydenko? Okay, he doesn’t have hair. Forget him. I think whatever Federer is, that hair is just painted on, like on those old-fashioned pink, soft-plastic dolls that smell so cool.

    Have you ever noticed how this Federer doesn’t really sweat?

    Oh, late in a third set he gets this sheen on his forehead and cheeks, but that could just as easily be some kind of cooling apparatus meant to keep the machinery from overheating, like those sprayers that keep the vegetables fresh at your local Whole Foods. How about the fact that the guy never freaks out, pitches a fit, or, having broken serve (which he does quite a lot, actually), rolls out one of those flying scissor kicks and punches the air, yelling whatever is Swiss-German for Vamos!

    Androids only have feelings in strange movies like Blade Runner; in real life, they’re probably real quiet dudes like Federer, whose idea of an in-your-face end-zone dance is making a small fist and quietly aspirating a Yes.

    Here’s another thing: You know an awful lot about Federer, right? You’d recognize him across a crowded room in an instant, and if you exchanged a little friendly banter, you’d pick your moment to use the phrase it’s a pity, and then wink and jab him in the ribs with your elbow. But how do you know your elbow would actually hit flesh and bone? Have you ever touched Federer, or do you know anyone who has?

    Michael Barkann, you say? Ha! You wouldn’t believe the things they can do at a digital video mixing board these days.

    My own alarm bells started going off when I noticed that Federer has no known eccentricities, or distinguishing characteristics. His face is smooth, fox-like, handsome and well-proportioned. It’s the kind of face you might put on a child’s toy or doll, where you don’t want to go with a big honkin’ nose, weak chin, or Charles Manson eyes and a soul patch (that would the Janko Tipsarevic doll).

    Perhaps it’s significant that Federer’s game is equally smooth, clean and seamless. This is a guy to whom an unforced error is a challenge that gets overturned by Hawkeye. Everybody says that in order to survive on the tour today a player needs at least one weapon, yet Federer is so danged good at everything that you can’t say he’s got a weapon. Ergo, by the very logic of all the pundits and players, this Federer couldn’t possibly survive, never mind dominate, on the tour today––unless something fishy is going on.

    With thoughts like these in mind, I went back through some of Federer’s recent press conference transcripts and found these telling exchanges:

    Q: [Feliciano] Lopez didn’t realize that you had won that many points on your serve. Were you aware of it as you were doing it? 35?

    Federer: I don’t know. What are you talking about?

    Q: From the time you were down love-40 in the first game of the third set, you did not lose a point of your serve until that mishit.

    Federer: That’s awesome. What, was that the last game, or what?

    Okay, how could Federer not know? I submit to you that only a creature or fabrication without emotion or the power of abstraction (yet cleverly programmed to mimic a young human by frequently saying awesome!) could be so oblivious to what he/it had just accomplished.

    And before Federer played John Isner, he was asked how he would handle the big fella’s serve. He replied: I saw he had a good serve. He’s got a good second serve, too. It’s going to be interesting to see how I handle that because the trajectory of a big guy like this, tall guy, it’s always different.

    Note how Federer himself expresses an interest in seeing how. . . Federer. . . handles the Isner serve. This suggests that perhaps this Federer is remotely operated by someone (perhaps inside the IMG luxury box, or via Tiger Woods’ BlackBerry) who really is curious to see how the machine, having been designed to handle serves from guys 6’6" and under, will handle the task.

    During one press conference, Federer was asked how he relaxes between matches. He answered: What do I do? I relax. I don’t know, I just . . . I’m in the city. Take it easy. Have nice dinners and lunches. I have some treatment, massage, stretches, hang out with my friends and family.

    Okay, work with me here. You’re a voice-software programmer, right? You’re told that you’d better build in some default answers to certain recurring stock questions that have nothing to do with the Nadal kick serve to the backhand, or the Novak Djokovic injury timeout. What kind of filler would you write?

    At one point, Federer said: I’m happy with my game, to be honest. I’ve been serving well basically since the day I arrived in North America.

    You know what I think he meant to say, before he caught himself?

    "Since the day I arrived in North America. . . in that container ship used to smuggle me into New York harbor in order to avoid the Bush regime’s religious extremist laws against androids taking the Greatest Road Trip in Sports along with the Roddicks, Sharapovas, and Chelas!

    After Federer beat Isner, he was asked: Was that a fun match for you today?

    He answered, Yeah, I enjoyed it actually, believe it or not.

    Okay, how about that believe it or not? Why wouldn’t we believe it? I’ll tell you why––because we know a robot is incapable of feeling human emotions like joy. That’s why! And finally. Remember how Federer collected a handful of second serve aces and won bushels of points by seeming to know exactly where Roddick was heading to field his shot. When he was asked about this in his press conference, Federer said, quite alarmingly if nonchalantly, Well, it’s good if you can read his mind sometimes.

    Now, how many of you so-called regular human beings can read someone’s mind?

    I rest my case.

    The Shadow Federer

    November 19th, 2007

    [A few months after that US Open triumph, as Federer finished the year with yet another victory in the ATP World Tour finals (the year-end championships), I tried to put his dilemma and the state of his spirit into perspective.]

    As Roger Federer hobbled and limped to the finish line of another long, grinding season, it struck me that many of you agonized and fretted mightily as you watched him close on the finish line, sometimes forgetting that while Federer was a bit wobbly, his major rivals were a country mile behind—some of them progressing as ponderously as the Swiss leader, others sprinting as if they actually believed they could catch up with him.

    I found it fascinating, for what it revealed about the standard we have applied to and expected from Federer. It’s an impossible standard that he has proven possible each time he unsheathes the stick with the Big Red W stenciled on the strings. This has created, in some ways, a dilemma of epic and tantalizing proportions.

    It seems surreal to ponder that all Federer must do to become the all-time Grand Slam singles champion is have a 2008 that is as good—not even better!—than

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