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June 18, 2005
Federer pulls all the strings in court of a king
By Sue Mott, Telegraph
Monks
used to do this. Big time. So much so, and with such enthusiasm, the
ecclesiastical authorities in France tried to ban it during the 11th
century. But obviously they were not successful because here was Roger
Federer, the two-time Wimbledon champion, in a mystically darkened room, 10 centuries later, having precisely the same addictive fun. "It's
very nice," he said politely afterwards. "Although if you don't get it
right, your whole body shakes with vibrations." He wobbled from head to
foot in an action replay. Real tennis is more complex than the EU Constitution. You need a degree in advanced mathematics and applied architecture just
to walk on the court. The racket weighs a ton and the balls are
dangerous lumps of bandaged wine corks that refuse to bounce or attack
you like sniper fire from the sloping roofs. There is a near-fatal
hazard at every turn, not least the world's greatest tennis player on
the other side of the net, bandana round his head and that predatory
look in his eyes known only too well to Lleyton Hewitt. Federer
pretends to smile with his eyes on court, but he is really computing
his favoured method of execution. Apt for someone playing at Hampton
Court on the same site as Henry VIII. They had said airily, "Just two minutes of doubles", and handed me the wooden racket with which to go to my doom. A crowd of on-lookers
sat behind the court in something called the dedans, veiled from the
murderous action by what looked to be an old tennis net. Lucky them.
Out on court, there was no hiding place, not from the impossibility of
connecting with the ball nor the ignominy of failing to do so. Now
I know how Paul-Henri Mathieu, of France, will feel when he faces the
defending champion in their first-round match at Wimbledon on Monday.
Predominantly hopeless. In the end, by underarming
the serve in my direction at about one-hundredth of the speed it will
rocket over the net next week, Federer induced a fluke forehand that
returned spinning low to his backhand and rattled to a deadly
conclusion somewhere near the foot of the 'winning gallery'. The
celebrations were completely out of order and I was led away to be
replaced by the editor of Ace magazine. Still, I now know how it feels
to beat Roger Federer, albeit for one point in a strange game and
because he let me. Upon such moments can you feast for the rest of your
life. Admittedly, the Federer smorgasbord is
slightly better stocked. He has arrived in Britain to defend his title
having won seven tournaments this year already, including Halle on
grass last week, and more than $2.5 million (£1.37 million) in prize
money. He won three of the four grand slam
titles last year and is hailed universally as the most gifted player of
his generation. At his alarming rate of improvement, he is projected to
be the greatest tennis player of all time. The
23-year-old Swiss refuses to be bowled over by such flattery. He calls
talk of this kind "a burden". If only Henry VIII had been so
circumspect. But Federer, far from bloated with wild boar and
self-importance, is anchored by reality. He acknowledges his four grand
slam singles titles (two Wimbledon, one US, one Australian) rank more
lowly than Rod Laver's 11, Bjorn Borg's 11, John McEnroe's seven and
Pete Sampras's 14. The pantheon door is ajar but
Federer needs to lean his formidable weight against it for a few more
years. He has the game, an all-round graceful game, sumptuous and
inventive, defiant of gravity and the laws of physics, but he has yet
to sustain his dominance. However, at Wimbledon,
at least, he is shading towards tyranny. "It is my second home, in a
way. I've basically won here three times, if you include the junior
title. I always look forward to it with a lot of hope, especially after
the claycourt season. It's really special. On the grass courts, you can
dive, you can fool around. It is a very, very natural feeling. The smell of grass. Maybe it's because I used to play soccer. "Last
year I had the feeling of being on edge because I was the defending
champion. I didn't know how that would feel. This year I have the
experience. I have shown I can do it - and do it again. So my belief is
very strong I can do it again - again." He bestows one of his megawatt
smiles. "So I'm actually coming into this Wimbledon feeling maybe more
calm and relaxed and serene than I have in the last few years. So many
things make me be very serene and confident." One
of those things might have been his consummate performance on the real
tennis court. For most, introduction to the mysterious, throwback sport
with its myriad rules and minefield practices would have been a
frightening experience. He played like a master, scooping half-volleys,
playing off the penthouses, understanding almost at a pre-conscious
level how to coax the ball around the wooden court. For some of us, it
was like playing golf in your living room. For Federer, it was as easy
as breathing. He is a student and a connoisseur of
racket sports. No matter how arcane the language, he wanted to know
more. When the expert advised us: "The best chase you can do is right
in the nick," he looked suitably impressed. It sounded more like a
Saturday night in Colchester to the rest of us. He is interested in
history, psychology and trigonometry, which makes him a pretty
devastating package as a tennis player. Quaintly,
he didn't want to go after the event put on for him by his watch
sponsor, Maurice Lacroix. In the end, he persuaded his girlfriend and
business partner, Mirka Vavrinec, a former tennis player herself, to
sneak on court with him for one last hit. What Cardinal Wolsey would
have made of a blonde woman in jeans and trainers hitting winners down
the royal tramlines is hard to imagine. Henry VIII would probably have
married her. The marital state is, however, not in
her immediate plans, despite the solidity of her relationship with her
boyfriend. "It's not an issue right now," Federer added. The
issue, the dominant issue, is Wimbledon. Perhaps, for all his avowed
serenity, the champion is intent on reasserting his authority on the
grand slam events. Twice, this year, he has lost in the semi-finals.
The first defeat was to Marat Safin, the Russian famous for his mood
swings, in a compelling five sets in Melbourne. The second was to the
new superstar, Rafael Nadal, in fading light at Roland Garros. An
attitude of waspish frustration was definitely detectable in Paris. "Oh,
I don't remember," Federer said. "I thought I handled myself very good.
I was just a little bit disappointed with some shot selections and the
way the match ended. I was really starting to be in control of the
match but, honestly, I could hardly see the ball at the end. I was
fighting against time almost more than Nadal. That threw me off a
little bit. I was playing an attacking game and I've got to see the
ball well. It was a little bit easier for him." Federer
is not demonstrably fearful of the young gun trained upon him. But then
he wouldn't be. He tries to eradicate all signs of human anguish, as
Sampras was always careful to do. The American always thought that
emoting betrayed weakness. Federer often has no reason to emote, being
so splendid. He is certainly playing down his reaction to the charm of
his teenage rival. "I have no problems with him.
We've spent time doing appearances together and I have heard he admires
my game very much. We've had some good matches, especially in Miami
when I came back from two sets down to win. He's a fighter. I have no
problems with his attitude when he pumps himself up. "I'm
always happy for new challenges. He's not just another Spaniard. He's a
completely different Spaniard. He's a lefty. Shy off court and very out
there on court. I remember when I was younger how worried I was to play
lefties. It's not a problem now." Most of
Federer's youthful problems have been overcome. Rackets, once tossed
and smashed, are now preserved for their lawful purpose. But he has
incorporated those old days of losses and trauma in the new, improved
version of himself. "I didn't always feel very lucky. I had times when
I was losing a lot of matches. It felt awful. You lose confidence. You
feel so small. "Now I have really started to play
great. I look at life and tennis very different now. If I lose a match,
no problem. I've had so much success already." His
Wimbledon record represents the peaks and troughs. After winning the
junior title in 1998, he lost in the first round to Jiri Novak (1999),
Yevgeny Kafelnikov (2000) and Mario Ancic (2002), with that dramatic
fourth-round five-set Centre Court defeat of the mighty Sampras in
between. There was the foretaste of genius, even if he did lose to Tim
Henman in the next round. "Ups and downs," he
said, drawing the mountainous progress. Very aptly alpine for a Swiss.
Yet he seems so level-headed, especially without the ponytail. When
Andre Agassi had his ceremonially cut, it was put on display behind
glass in a fashionable restaurant. Federer didn't
know that. "Really?" he said, amazed. Where did his go. "In the bin."
But there was a story attached. Mirka supplied the details. "Thing
was," she said, "I had this very good appointment with a hairdresser,
one of the best in America, while Roger had this event in New York. But
then I said to him, 'Why don't you go to this lady?' I don't mind
because I want him to look good because he is always so much in the
press." Federer will not understand this yet, but greater love has no
woman. This girl is a gem. "Then, the next day,"
Mirka added, "she cut the hair of Andy Roddick." You can see how it is
on the men's tour. Where Roger Federer leads, the rest will follow. The
closeness between Federer and Mirka is not an inconsiderable part of
his success. His mother acts as his agent, along with a Swiss lawyer,
but Mirka is his travelling companion, permanently hooked to her
mobile. "Sometimes I want to know what she thinks of my tennis, too.
She sees a hundred of my matches a year. She knows something about the
game because she was a player. I like her to criticise my game." Criticise
his game? You feel it necessary to point out that most men prefer their
womenfolk not to criticise them. "Well, I'm different," Federer said. "But
I only do that if he asks me," added Mirka, making the situation a
little more explicable. "We have a lot of respect for each other." Now
he has another person to ask. After going coach-less during his wonder
year, 2004, he has hired the wily Australian, Tony Roche, to work with
him. It took much persuasion but the man who took Ivan Lendl and Pat
Rafter to their respective heights has agreed to be at Wimbledon for
the duration. "It's an inspiration for me that he
has got such a fire for the game," said Federer, whose own fiery
passion is as ice-capped as an alpine peak but nonetheless present for
that. He is burning to improve, to learn, to win, to become triple
Wimbledon champion. Only seven opponents stand in his way and, trust
me, you wouldn't want to be one of them.
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