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June 27, 2006
Federer holds court
Rainout doesn'tdamper debut
By Bud Collins, Boston Globe
LONDON -- The emperor got his new clothes.
Old, old story; new emperor. Lots of skin for the
beefcake fans -- all legs and arms -- but not the Full Monty as
displayed by that illustriously vain king in the 1837 fairy tale by
Hans Christian Andersen. This fellow with the freshly-turned-out
raiment was none other than Emperor Roger I of the House of Federer,
ruler of all he surveys in the tennis world, and paying an annual call
on his capital, called Wimbledon. He is expected to stay two
weeks, exacting tribute from his subjects (127 of them on this
occasion), thrashing those who do not bow down immediately. However,
this capital is located in a geographically iffy region, the famous
Rain Forest of Southwest London, and if the proceedings continue as
they began yesterday -- little more than an hour of opening day tennis
-- Emperor Roger's visit will take a couple of months. When he
awoke yesterday and peered out the window in the direction of the
domain he has ruled with a fine, yet heavy, right hand for three years,
the visual news was not good. The sky was a grayer shade of gray, and
had sprung a leak. Never mind. Wanting to look like such emperors
of the past as Jack Kramer and Ted Schroeder of the 1940s and Don Budge
and Fred Perry of the 1930s and Bill Tilden and Rene Lacoste of the
1920s, Federer called for his new jacket -- a monogrammed blazer of
fine ivory-toned flannel. No sweat suit for this emperor. If such
empresses as Maria Sharapova and Venus Williams could wow the folks
with stunning garments, so could he. Why should the women have all the
sartorial fun? Then he set off for Wimbledon to discipline a commoner from France named Richard Gasquet. As
you will recall of that storied, self-deceiving emperor, he was conned
by a couple of cleverly nefarious tailors. They pretended to weave for
him the most elegant garments of silk, bound together by gold and
silver thread. When he preened and paraded in what the con men
described as high fashion, his fearful subjects ooh-ed and ah-ed, all
except a little boy who told the obvious truth -- that he was naked as
a jaybird. Emperor Roger is a stylish guy, but public nudity
isn't his style. He wanted to make his entry in the manner of those far
bygone predecessors, and chose the royal jacket over his shorts and
T-shirt. His tailor, a Greek called Nike, came up with an imaginative -- but not imaginary -- single-breasted number, illustrated tastefully with a coat of arms. It
fit right into the 2006 Wimbledon retro theme. The umpires and line
judges are handsome in navy blazers with white piping, white flannel
trousers, and caps. These came from another tailor named Ralph Lauren,
who used to peddle neckties to such clothiers as the Andover Shop in
Cambridge, Mass. When Emperor Roger put on his blazer, the rain
ceased. This Emperor seemed well connected. For a while. He and the
20-year-old Gasquet walked into the throne room, Centre Court, and the
white jacket stood out in the gloom. What's going on, wondered the
fashion-conscious. They hadn't been around when such was not unusual. But
an emperor, Federer felt, needs to make a distinctive statement. The
jacket was emblazoned with a descriptive crest: a tuft of grass, a red
cross for homeland Switzerland, an F for Federer, his zodiac symbol
(Leo), and three rackets, each representing a year of his reign. Such
splendor. All that was lacking was a lackey to remove the coat and hold
it until next needed. However, that's not his style, either. Federer
removed the coat himself, hung it on a chair, and proceeded to sew up
Gasquet. Sort of. They played 35 minutes before the rains came
again -- with finality. Then Roger and the commoner, Gasquet, sat
around for 6 hours until the day was called off at 7:20 in the evening.
If rain permits, they will continue today with Federer ahead -- as he
probably will be for the fortnight -- in this case, 6-3, 1-2, with his
serve to come. This was the sixth wet day without results within
the past decade, standard stuff for the local Rain Forest. It was
awfully damp for most of the 32,272 customers who wandered beneath
umbrellas, munching strawberries and cream, swilling Pimms, and
generally glowering. Sorry, no rain checks. But 13,978 with
Centre Court tickets got to see this Emperor's new clothes. But they
couldn't see through him, no make-believe emperor. Clothes might not
make the man, but it doesn't hurt to look regal now and then.
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