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Published: September 7, 2005
Who's No. 1? It's Federer, in Many Ways
By Selena Roberts, New York Times
THE meaning of a number depends on who is No. 1.
As an ex-No. 1, Lleyton Hewitt pulled off a rarity for him as he
scurried around Arthur Ashe Stadium yesterday without offending a
linesman with a slur, infuriating his opponent with an obscene gesture
or irritating the crowd with his excessive "C'mons."
He didn't have enough time.
It took only 94 minutes for Hewitt to dispense of Dominik Hrbaty in the
fourth round of the United States Open. So Hewitt had to save his
typically tasteless remarks for later, when he poked at the holes
designed and cut into the shoulder blades of Hrbaty's fashionista shirt.
"I wouldn't wear it, but it made it a lot easier for me to beat him,"
Hewitt said, adding, "I just couldn't lose to a bloke wearing a shirt
like that." Hewitt is unvarnished, irascible and impolitic. In
other words, he hasn't changed a bit since he was the No. 1 player in
2001 and 2002, back when he created a trail of charged feuds with
players and legal disputes with the ATP. He is as self-absorbed
as always. In a year when he referred to an umpire with a gay slur, in
a season when he nearly fought with a Davis Cup opponent, Hewitt also
revealed the depths of his inner control freak. According to Australian
reports, Hewitt sold the media rights to his spring engagement, summer
wedding and wife's pregnancy. So far, no autographed pictures of
sonograms have surfaced on eBay. The current No. 1, Roger
Federer, followed Hewitt onto the stadium court, able to reach into his
bag of liquid strokes to frustrate Nicolas Kiefer, winning in four sets
while maintaining his trademark calm. Later, always the gentleman, he
complimented Kiefer. Federer took his No. 1 ranking as a
responsibility, not a perch of entitlement, maturing into a player of
thought, action and social awareness. Would he ever dabble in politics?
"Like Ahnold?" he said in a Schwarzenegger-esque accent during
a recent lunch. "I don't think so. I'm more into, in general, helping
people. Like Muhammad Ali does for the world. "Think about the
world not only like 'God Bless America' sort of thing but God bless the
world, because we're all together. We're living on the same world, you
know? And not alone. Sometimes people forget. This is why we have
fights all over the world. Of course you can't stop them, but still
pick an issue, maybe in the future. Of course it goes into politics a
little bit. Maybe. Who knows what I'll do? But I don't really see this
sort of role. I'd like to be more of an ambassador." The
difference in depth between Hewitt and Federer, and the divergence in
their approach to No. 1, is certainly two parts personality, but at
least one part entourage. Hewitt is surrounded by a bevy of yes men and
sycophantic handlers, while Federer has chosen a liberating, agent-less
existence, grounded by a girlfriend/manager who will tell the emperor
off. Perspective is a choice. And the choice of some top
players was revealed in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. One after
another, past and present No. 1 players - athletes of high visibility
and influential voice - have displayed how sheltered they are by their
guffawing circle of advisers. If advised correctly, Serena
Williams would not have celebrated herself as a philanthropist by
offering $100 per ace to hurricane relief when her dog, Jackie, travels
in a designer handbag that costs many times that much. If anyone
in her management group had prepped her, Venus Williams would not have
used an unfortunate line like, "I really don't watch the news," when
asked about the devastation in New Orleans. If she could
separate herself from her packaging, Maria Sharapova might have
something to add on an issue outside of her perfume launch.
True, athlete activism has been rendered a quaint notion when so many
sports icons continue to adopt the lucrative Michael Jordan theory on
social causes. As told in Sam Smith's 1995 book, "Second Coming,"
Jordan was asked why he wouldn't support a black Democratic candidate
to unseat Jesse Helms in North Carolina. "Republicans buy shoes, too,"
Jordan said. Social conscience may have nearly flatlined in
sports, but perspective doesn't have to be buried with it. It is no
coincidence that the most introspective responses to Hurricane Katrina
came from Andre Agassi, an ex-No. 1, and Lindsay Davenport, the current
No. 1. Agassi is handled by one man, Perry Rogers, a childhood
friend who isn't afraid to tell his client the truth. The player's box
for Davenport is usually filled by a coach, maybe her husband and, at
times, her mother. Agassi and Davenport do not shut themselves
off with a fortress of cling-ons. Agassi and Davenport do not seek the
advice of shameless sycophants. Perspective is a choice of all
those who ascend to No. 1. The perch can be treated as a responsibility
- as Federer sees it - or as a pulpit of entitlement, as Hewitt once
responded to it. Perspective is not American, European or
Australian. The meaning behind the world's No. 1 is universally lost or
gained in the number of yes men.
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