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June 23, 2007
Laver's winners hit like a bullet but Federer can resound like an exquisite symphony
By James Lawton, Independent
The late Dan
Maskell was, in the way of fellow great sports broadcasters Richie
Benaud and Peter O'Sullevan, not the most voluble of men but if you got
him in the right mood in the right place, the smart response was to pin
back your ears. Oddly enough, one such occasion came in a rather rough
pool hall in downtown Dallas.
Unfazed by the bewildered response of the bar-girl, who was wearing a
skimpy T-shirt emblazoned with the legend "Go Cowboys", when he asked
for the "driest sherry in the house" - she eventually returned with a
dust-covered bottle of something that apparently tasted rather like
absinthe - Maskell proceeded along an epic theme. It was the
fascinating one of who was the best player in the history of his
particular sport.
With Pete Sampras still short of his 10th birthday, and Roger
Federer not yet born, his conclusion, hardly surprisingly, leaned in
favour of the small, freckled but immensely strong, quick and skilful
player known as the "Rockhampton Rocket".
"I would have to say that Rod Laver is the master; his game had so
much range you had to believe he could do anything on the court," he
said after a reflective sip and a long wince. Of course you could make
a case for half-a-dozen or so, with Pancho Gonzales leading a pack that
included such as Bill Tilden, Jack Kramer, Lew Hoad, Kenny Rosewall,
Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe.
Such perspective would certainly be a valuable companion at
Wimbledon over the next two weeks when Federer, at 25, threatens to
engulf the sober, well almost sober, assessment of the commentator
whose idea of conveying excitement at a moment of ultimate brilliance
on the court was, "My word!". Based on the data of pure achievement,
Laver commended himself to the old tennis pro and coach Maskell with
one overriding and quite stunning career fact: he won the Grand Slam
twice; his last season as an amateur in 1962 and his first in open
tennis in 1969. His only rival in the mastery of all surfaces was the
American Donald Budge, who won just one calendar Grand Slam.
Given the astonishing ascendancy of the young Spaniard Rafael Nadal
on the red clay of Paris, Laver's mark is probably beyond Federer. So
why is Wimbledon, perhaps as never before, about something that flies
beyond the old parochial obsessions of Henman Hill and the new
excitement engendered by the long-term promise of the competitive Andy
Murray?
It is because Federer, like his friend Tiger Woods, is touching that most thrilling point in any outstanding journey in sport.
He is creating the aura, while still four short of Sampras' record
of 14 Grand Slam tournament wins, that inevitably comes with the
suspicion that here is a man who might well be the best the world has
ever seen. He is the 2-5 favourite to win his fifth Wimbledon and draw
level with Borg, the base-line executioner whose gaze from remarkably
deep-set eyes seemed to penetrate the very bones of an opponent. But if
there was a thrilling quality to Borg, if you marvelled at the coolness
of his nature and the precision of his shot-making, he never invaded
you with the beauty of his game.
Federer does this on a routine basis and it is why Wimbledon, which
so often draws quite the silliest audience in all of sport, will be
guilty of the most appalling omission if it fails to focus more
intently than ever before on the possibility that the reigning champion
will bring still more sublime definition to the game he now dominates
so profoundly in all places except the grounds of Roland Garros.
Federer offers what the great performers have always done throughout
history. He makes you feel that he is providing a unique window through
which to see the very soul of sport. Sir Gary Sobers did this when he
played cricket. He moved with feline alertness and grace. Pele showed
us the grandeur of absolute certainty about what he was doing. Muhammad
Ali transfixed everyone who saw him, from his opponent to those in the
cheap seats. Tiger Woods plays shots beyond the imagination of ordinary
golfers, a status which from time to time he has assigned to every one
of his rivals.
It is against this ultimate criterion that even someone like the
relentlessly brilliant "Rockhampton Rocket" perhaps pales to a decisive
degree.
Maskell also said of Laver: "He is technically faultless, from his
richly varied serve to his feather-light touch on a drop volley, plus a
backhand drive carrying destructive top-spin when needed or a
controlling slice when the situation demanded it."
Such was one professional assessment of an athlete of application so
great his left forearm was frequently described as "gigantic". What
Laver may have lacked, ultimately, and it is something that you have to
believe is comfortably within the scope of Federer, is the capacity to
go beyond the mechanics of his game, however superior. A Laver backhand
had the impact of a bullet. Federer's reminds you more of an exquisite
musical note.
Now in its fifth year, it is a prospect that continues to grow in
dramatic potential. For Roger Federer tennis is as much art as conflict
and his genius is to balance perfectly the two. Could the summer of
sport offer a more bewitching show? My word, it is hard to think so.
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