The Romanian tennis player Victor Hanescu played really well in his second round match at the Australian Open: his strategy was astute, and his serve and ground strokes were going well. He lost, 6-2, 6-3, 6-2.
Hanescu’s misfortune was to be up against Roger Federer on one of those days when you’d swear the Great Man had descended from Olympus to toy with a mortal before catching a flaming chariot back up into the clouds for a late-night snack with the other deities.
Federer was that good.
Of course, His Serene Rogness used to produce this level of tennis more regularly three or four years ago. Since then, players have come to know his style better, and, as they’ve seen him lose regularly to the likes of Nadal and smaller fry – Murray, Del Potro and Davydenko, for starters – the burnished halo of invincibility that seemed to shine permanently above his head during 2005 and 2006 has become ever so slightly tarnished. Some days, you can imagine him getting his kit together for that day’s match and shouting, ”Mirka, have you seen that damned halo anywhere? I could swear I had it yesterday.”
During the 2008 season, the halo went missing for whole weeks on end. The main symptoms were a suddenly erratic forehand, which deprived him of the best shot in tennis, the teensiest hint of effort whilst shimmering around the court, and a tendency to lose the fifth set from winning positions on big occasions.
To compensate, Federer has turned himself into a more complete player: his serve is even better than it used to be (and that’s saying something); his backhand is only a weakness in comparison with his sublime forehand; he’s volleying more – and, while not the crispest shot in his arsenal, it’s improving; and his constant high-level on-court thinking means that, these days, you can practically hear his brain ticking over a micro-second before the ball bounces precisely where his opponent was not expecting it to bounce .
What this all means is, the Fedster can now win ugly, as they say. He demonstrated that on Tuesday, after losing the first set to Andreev. When Federer’s in that mode, his fans just sit there willing him to get his act together, as you would when supporting any other player.
Watching Federer in God-mode, on the other hand, is like sitting down to a superb meal at your favourite restaurant: you pretty much know what you’ll be getting, and you know it’ll taste better than any meal you could get anywhere else, and you know there will be some delightful, unexpected touches which will make the experience live in your memory. And while you’re eating, the world will seem a braver, better place for having such marvellous food in it: and you’ll leave the restaurant happy and content and somehow feeling better about yourself and existence in general.
I slumped in front of the TV this morning to watch the match feeling thoroughly jaded and somewhat depressed after a trying couple of days. I arose from the sofa an hour and a half later feeling as if life was probably worth living after all. (I doubt if Federer’s opponent felt quite the same way, but afterwards he managed a wry grin and a salute to Prince William, who was watching the match, so I’m guessing he knew he had played a very creditable part in the feast we’d all enjoyed.)
I somehow doubt that Federer will win this tournament: at some stage, surely, the hunger for success must ease, especially when there is absolutely nothing left to prove. Nadal hasn’t won a major since last year’s Australian Open, Murray will explode if he doesn’t bag his first Slam soon, Davydenko is playing better tennis than anyone else right now, and Del Potro has proved he can win a Slam: it would surely mean more to any of them to lift the trophy than it would to Roger.
But all that doesn’t matter in the least for us true Federeralists: now that he’s bagged his 15th Slam, we just want to see as many performances as sublime as the one against Hanescu between now and his permanent ascent to Valhalla.
As I mentioned, Prince William took his seat while the match was in progress (and received the sort of rapturous reception that does an old Monarchist’s heart proud). I immediately thought of the headlines: “The King Shows A Prince How To Do It” or “His Royal Highness… And Prince William”. I was feeling quite pleased with myself until that excellent commentator Frew McMillan laconically noted, “I suppose there’ll be the inevitable headlines about Princes and Kings”. Come to think of it, I’ll also be quite upset when this master of understatement hangs up his microphone for the last time.
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