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June 20, 2004
The Big Interview: Roger Federer
The defending champion tells Nick Pitt how a change in his approach to the game has transformed his fortunes
By Nick Pitt, The Sunday Times
At five minutes to six on the evening of Thursday, June 3, Roger
Federer enjoyed the evocative pleasure of walking on a grass tennis
court. It was the first time he had done so for 334 days. The previous
occasion was on the Centre Court at Wimbledon, where he had been
crowned men’s champion in a swirl of emotions, from exhilaration to
deep relief. Finally, he had fulfilled his talent, had proved that he
had the substance, not the pretence, of greatness.
These, now, were very different circumstances. He was walking on to
practice court No 4 in a quiet corner of the tennis complex at Halle, a
small Westphalian town in Germany. Nobody was watching, and his only
companion was his doubles partner in the Swiss Davis Cup team, Yves
Allegro.
“It was special, a private moment for me,” Federer said. “Walking
on a grass court feels quite different from any other surface. I had
put on my new grass-court shoes, and just to be on the grass again made
me feel good. I remembered the match point I played at Wimbledon, my
last point on grass, and I felt at home. We don’t play so much on
grass. Last year, just two tournaments for me. But I won them both,
here at Halle and Wimbledon: 12 matches and no losses.” Now that he has
won at Halle again, without dropping a set, he has extended that
sequence to 17 matches.
Federer has enjoyed a remarkable year since he won Wimbledon. He
concluded 2003 by winning the Masters Cup, with the loss of only one
set; and he opened 2004 by winning his second Grand Slam title, the
Australian Open, and claiming the world No 1 ranking. Each was a signal
achievement; together they confirm Federer’s evolution from a flash but
inconsistent sort to the game’s undoubted master.
Wimbledon remains his most cherished memory, and in his current
campaign, when the Olympic gold medal is an additional objective in the
calendar, the successful defence of his title is his greatest desire.
“The beauty for me in winning Wimbledon was that it was my first Grand
Slam and my favourite Grand Slam,” Federer said. “That was what made
everything so special and made me want so much to relive that feeling.”
NOTING the lengthening list of his achievements makes and misses the
point. It is the irresistible nature, the thunder and beauty of
Federer’s game, that separates him. During the recent French Open,
Gaston Gaudio, who was to win the championship, said what most of the
players know, although few will admit. Asked to compare David
Nalbandian with Federer, he said: “Well, like Federer, Nalbandian is a
complete player. But Federer is also a genius.”
To watch Federer practising in Halle, on that same court where he made
his first excursion of the year on grass, was a delicious reminder of
that judgment. Sometimes he brings off shots that are so extraordinary
that it is hard to know how to react. Applause is insufficient. Indeed,
laughter is a more appropriate reaction to the absurdity of it, the
ease with which he accomplishes the near-impossible. In practice, he
admits, he also laughs at such moments, for although he possesses the
gift, he also knows it is ridiculous.
The court was imperfect, yet that merely underlined Federer’s skill.
Even when a ball skidded fast and low rather than bouncing, he was able
to react, to adjust his wrist and racket-face to control it. His
practice partner for the hour’s session was Rainer Schuettler, ranked
eighth in the world. Schuettler was outclassed, often reduced to
slamming balls into the bushes in his frustration.
“Yes,” said Federer a little later, smiling as he sat back in a sofa
for the recording of the interview, “I’m playing well. And I’m feeling
good.” Such pleasant words, but so ominous for those who have
aspirations to defeat him over the next fortnight. And the message of
the words was underlined by deeds, as Federer won the Halle tournament
with ease.
THE STORY of Federer’s year as Wimbledon champion is one of educational
completion, the later stages of a journey of self-discovery that has
taken him from the precocious state towards maturity. “Finding the
emotional balance I need has been hard,” he said. “In my early days on
the Tour, I was very uptight. I felt lots of anger and frustration. And
it made me tired. After the second round of a tournament I was already
exhausted.
“Just before the 2001 French Open, where I reached the quarter-finals,
and then also reached the quarters at Wimbledon, I decided to calm
down, not to show as much emotion as I used to. And at first it worked
perfectly. At Wimbledon, I beat Pete Sampras, and I thought I had found
the right way to do it.
“I was injured in 2001 after the Sampras match, and when I came back on
the Tour, I kept my mood on court the same. I was very calm, almost
bored, and I wasn’t playing well. I kept thinking, ‘How come I’m not
playing like I did against Sampras?’ There was all this talk about ‘the
guy who beat Sampras’, which I didn’t like, because I wasn’t performing
like that.
“Then in 2002 I lost in the first round of the French Open when I was
favourite, and in the first round at Wimbledon. That made me wonder why
I couldn’t perform at the Grand Slam championships. I could see I had
had a mental problem about the French, and that at Wimbledon I had used
the wrong tactics. I realised that a couple of years ago, here in
Halle. I was playing serve-and-volley on first and second serve, and I
thought, ‘ What am I doing?’ I was trying to do something I don’t do
all year. So I started to play aggressively on the serve, but to mix it
up. It’s not enough just to have a serve; you need to win points from
the baseline sometimes, even on grass. So I play as I do on hard
courts, but with more aggression and coming more to the net.”
The all-court game, with rallies from the back of the court as well as
dashes to the net, allows us to appreciate Federer’s most extraordinary
stroke, his trademark forehand, which he plays not just with topspin,
as most do, but with sidespin as well. For his opponents, it is most
alarming. The ball coming towards them at great pace not only rears up
with topspin, but moves away as well. And Federer can spin it both
ways, either hooking the ball as he hits the forehand cross-court from
the deuce side, or spinning it left to right on the opposite angle. “I
learnt this from running around the backhand and playing the forehand
inside-out,” he said. “I never tried to learn this shot, but I just
found I had it. And so I use it.”
The fact that he often chooses to run around a backhand that most
players would die for shows just how brilliant and destructive the
forehand is. “But the big change I needed to make was not tactical or
technical,” he said. “It was mental. I had to have fun on the court. I
had to enjoy myself again, go out there and pump the fist, even though
when I did it in my early days, it wasn’t really me, it was a bit of a
fake. But it’s not a fake any more. Now I really feel it’s me when I’m
pumping the fist. It’s natural. And I allow myself to get angry again,
because that’s still me. I found the freedom inside myself. I found
peace with myself. Just by being myself.”
Like many with the blessings of extravagant talent, he had been misled
and confused by it. “To tell you the truth, I had been kind of faking
my way through the Tour,” he said. “I knew how good I was, but maybe I
thought I was better than I really was. I thought I had to show
something, to create something new for the Tour, to hit unbelievable
shots at every moment for the crowd.
“This was kind of a mad thing in my brain, showing off instead of
playing it simple sometimes. I was not concentrating enough, and I was
too concerned with what people were saying and thinking about me. I was
also reading the press a lot, which was killing me. I was getting all
this praise, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I’m the best, I’m so good, I don’t
have to do much. I’m winning plenty of matches and I get good press’ .
But it was not good for me. So I stopped reading all the press
articles. Now if I read them, it’s okay, I’m true to myself, and if
they say how good I am, I say, ‘Forget it, I want to be better’.”
By 2003, Federer had learnt to temper his game, to play the percentages
as a match-player rather than parade himself as trick-artist, and had
found the balance between calmness and fire that suits him and saves
his energy. But his record in the Grand Slam events by which players
must ultimately be measured remained wretched.
“I found there was much more public and press focus on me at the Grand
Slams,” he said. “And I put pressure on myself by telling myself this
was where I had to perform, that the other tournaments didn’t matter.
Then, at the beginning of last year, I realised this was not the way I
should look at it. I had to start winning tournaments, getting to the
semis and finals in smaller tournaments and winning them. At the
beginning of my career, I lost a lot of finals, which was a big
surprise to me, because in the juniors I hardly lost any. By taking the
smaller tournaments more seriously, I got over the problem. Before
Wimbledon last year, I had already won in Marseilles, Dubai, Munich and
Halle. I felt great when I left a tournament and I had won it. So when
I arrived at Wimbledon, I had four tournaments in my pocket and I had
so much confidence.”
For the first time in a Grand Slam, Federer reached the semi-finals,
where he met Andy Roddick. “That was my most satisfying match,” Federer
recalled. “There was so much talk about him playing so well, how he had
won at Queen’s. He was the big favourite. I couldn’t see why. We had
played each other three times and I won them all. I like playing him.
And that day I read his game perfectly, and hit some incredible shots.”
It was the match that turned all but the most intransigent of Federer
sceptics into believers. Roddick’s power, especially on serve, had been
unstoppable on the grass at Queen’s and Wimbledon, but Federer made him
look ordinary. He did not let up. “I knew I had to refocus for the
final against Mark Philippoussis,” he said. “When I beat Sampras in
2001, I lost in the next round, against Tim Henman. Tim played great
and I had an injury, but something was missing in me, some energy. I
learnt that you have to keep the tension up. It was something I had to
get over, and I did. Since then, my record in finals has been
unbelievable.”
Since losing in the final in Gstaad immediately after Wimbledon, when
he was on cloud nine, he has played seven finals, in Vienna, Houston,
the Australian Open, Dubai, Indian Wells, Hamburg and Halle, for the
loss of two sets. He has come to terms with the requirements of winning
a Grand Slam event, with seven best-of-five-set matches over two weeks
rather than the usual Tour events, with five best-of-three-set matches
over one week.
“That is a big step for me,” he said. “And now, after winning Wimbledon
and the Australian Open, I know what I have to do, which is to spend
two weeks without losing my focus. You have to concentrate on nothing
but tennis, which can be tough. You cannot look forward, and these days
I never talk about matches that might come up later in the draw. It’s
one match at a time.”
THE champion’s entourage is small. His long-term girlfriend, Miroslava
Vavrinec, known universally as Mirka, organises Federer’s press and
public relations commitments, and he has a travelling physiotherapist,
Pavel Kovac. Since December, when he parted company with Peter
Lundgren, he has had no coach. At least one former champion has warned
Federer a coach is a necessity in the modern game. He disagrees. “At
the moment, I’m fine. If I have a problem, I go out there and try to
work it out, or I might ask my doubles partner if he can help me.
Sometimes I ask Mirka how she feels about my game and she might say
something and I will think about it. If she sees something I am doing
wrong she will tell me. But I’m looking forward to working with a coach
again. Maybe this year. But next year I would certainly like to travel
again with a coach. A year is a long time without one , and it can work
against you. I feel I have potential left. Right now, it’s an important
stage in my career and I’m getting to know myself even better. It’s an
interesting story about me being No 1 and not travelling with a coach,
I agree. But to help me improve further, I may need someone who will
give new advice, open new views to me which might be very interesting,
and might work, though of course I realise when you change something ,
it may not work to begin with.”
ONE YEAR on, as he begins the defence of his title tomorrow, Federer is
a player of accomplishment rather than promise. “Last year it all came
at the right time for me,” he said. “If it had come earlier, it might
not have been good for my career. A few years ago, I could not have
handled the changes that have happened in my life. Because now I’m
strong enough to handle all this, I can keep going and use the momentum
I have. Being No 1 is huge. I feel people see me differently. They
respect me more. To be No 1, to be the best in the world at something,
that’s an amazing concept. So many people play tennis all over the
world, and I’m the best. It was a similar experience for me in the
juniors.
“After the Orange Bowl event in 1998, I was No 1 and I was so proud. It
meant I was the most consistent, the one with the best results, just
the best. So to do the same as a senior player was always my goal. That
was partly why I wanted to do well in the smaller tournaments, so that
when I won some big ones, I could be No 1 — and it worked perfectly.
Now I want to win Wimbledon again. I want to be a better player, the
best I can be. And whatever happens, I want to be able to say at the
end that I gave it everything I had, that I can look back on it all
with no regrets.”
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