A gorgeous heartache
Being a tennis fan is quite removed from being a Roger Federer fan. When you don’t have a beloved player or aren’t emotionally invested in their personal victories or failures, you are bound to enjoy the sports more. Less stress too. However, when you are in a one-sided relationship with somebody like Federer, you will experience all sorts of tumultuous extremes. He is not a normal human being and by mere extension of this blazing piece of truth, he invokes reactions—via an effortless backhand or a balletistic forehand or a slide to execute an inch-perfect drop shot — that nobody else you’ve seen can. And before you could fully realize your proselytism, him winning means you’ve won and him losing means you’ve lost.
The experts drop a lot of words to describe but deep down, they know that their vocabulary doesn’t fly when it comes to the elegance he brings to his discipline. Some say he is poetry in motion while others say he dances on the court, but how do you describe the relief you feel when you see him flick away those droplets of sweat from the top of his eyebrows? After all, you’ve got to be that heavily into someone to experience such unspeakable moments.
I am aware of this because I used to hold the distinction of being his biggest fan ever. This was before I grew weary with age and domesticity, and ultimately stopped sitting through his matches too. Instead of following every single point, I am that guy now who keeps refreshing the score on google. A strange but a rather mature set-up: it’s like wanting to be inside the room but don’t want to miss the sky either.
If you follow Federer closely, you’d know the role age plays, the loose attraction of a peaceful domestic life, and not wanting to leave the room simply because you don’t want to miss out on greatness. Once you’re out, you reluctantly become a part of the lore. He knows this and so does his body. Yet, his continued determination to prove the naysayers—who have been writing obituaries for this career since 2012 — wrong is exemplary. Perhaps he wants to prove himself right more than them wrong. Besides, there aren’t a lot of names who reckon pedestal as flowingly as he does. And in this regard, he personifies the frailties of life itself.
In sports entertainment, there is no greater pain than seeing your person or team fail. And if you are a Federerphile, you must know that this gentle Swiss maestro is a gorgeous heartache. He can lift you up and he can throw you down, without losing focus even for a second. From squandering match points to giving away championship points, he can drag you through hell. By the end of the fight, the most hardworking muscle in your body would have weathered a storm. If the scoreline is in his favour, you’ll punch the air. If the scoreline isn’t in his favour, you’ll miserably try to imitate his gracefulness in defeat.
To make matters worse, Federer turns 38 next month and we all are left with no choice but to keep guessing whether a given tournament is going to be his last. For instance, will he be returning to Wimbledon next year? What would happen to the greatest rivalry amongst a trio if he has to quit anytime soon? Which other individual sport can lay claim to the most ruthless dominance? How are we supposed to live on without witnessing an ageless phenomenon? So many questions, hardly any answers.
Lastly, if you were to condense everything Federer means to tennis, then it’d be one word: perseverance. With his ongoing extraordinary story, he compels us to keep going too. Ergo, his weaknesses don’t stand a chance against his strengths. And I believe no other modern sportsperson has this effect on his followers.
