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January 28, 2006
It's Federer, but not as we know him
By Martin Johnson, Telegraph
The
long-standing debate about whether or not Roger Federer is human has
taken many forms, including the suspicion that he is the product of
scientists fusing the DNA of Laver, Borg, McEnroe and Sampras in an
underground Swiss laboratory. More likely, though, he was beamed down
to Earth from some alien spacecraft - an undercover agent made up of
wires and electrodes (has anyone ever seen him sweat?) to pave the way
for inter-galactic domination.
You
didn't honestly think that the invasion would be launched by little
green men laughing hysterically at people peeling potatoes did you?
Well, now the humans are on to him, and it's this fear of being rumbled
which has forced him to throw investigators off the scent by throwing
away points, and sometimes even whole sets. Federer
first realised that his cover was in danger of being blown after
romping through his first three matches here, and being confronted by
special agent Jim Courier in one of those excruciating on-court
interviews. "Tell me, Roger," Jim gushed. "Can you cook? Can you make your own bed? Is there anything you can't do?" Federer fidgeted with his shirt as though searching for a sick bag, but in reality he was radioing back to a distant planet made of Swiss cheese to inform them that there was no sign of intelligent life on Earth. It's
not that easy to fake it when you're blessed with superhuman powers, so
Federer got hold of a copy of the Old Testament and realised that
terrible things could happen to invincible giants if they paid a visit
to the hairdresser. So last year's flowing locks have gone, and the
Samsonesque effect has seen him shed four sets in his last three
matches. The haircut was actually at the prompting
of his agent, who reckons it will make him more money. Federer used to
be managed by a team of close relatives and apparently ended up making
less swag in endorsements than Maria Sharapova earns from clipping on a
pair of earrings. So off he went to Tiger Woods' people, International
Management Group, who decided that the Ena Sharples bun had to go.
There is not a lot of serious money to be earned endorsing hairnets,
and the shorter hairstyle is planned to open up the blue-chip market
for a wholesome, clean-cut image. It is also part
of the plan to disguise his alien background, in that while Federer has
been busy dumping balls into the net, the haircut has had the added
spin-off of making his opponents play better. Nothing was more
dispiriting than to play against Federer and watch him adjusting those
flyaway strands of hair between points while he was supposed to be
involved in a serious game of tennis. Yesterday's
subtle piece of subterfuge was to throw away a set against the artisan
German Nicholas Kiefer, a player who is setting new standards in grand
slam tennis, but only in the amount of prize money he hands back to the
organisers during a tournament. However, there is something about
playing a gent like Federer that has a calming effect on a chap's
temper, and Kiefer failed to add to his four fines for a collection of
audible abuse, visible abuse, and unsportsmanlike conduct. As the whole
lot adds up to only £3,000 or so there isn't a great deal of incentive
in tennis for a player not to behave like an oik. Kiefer's
task last night was all the greater for having battled through a
marathon quarter-final, in which he threw everything at Sebastian
Grosjean, including his racket. Bizarrely, he was allowed to keep the
point when the Frenchman hit into the net, and Kiefer had the brass
neck to confess he knew he should have lost the point, but was happy
the umpire got it wrong. Federer was a racket
thrower in his youth and may well have to consider going back to his
early tantrum period in order to conceal his true identity. He's
already working hard in that direction, as we saw when he slipped over
in a pool of sweat left by Kiefer in the previous service game.
Ordinarily, Federer would merely have walked on water, but this was
before Courier (who is clearly from another planet himself) gave him
such a fearsome grilling about the perfection of his bed-making.
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