A Farewell to Fed

At the end of the day, a grown man has decided to stop hitting fuzzy yellow balls for a living. That’s the simplest way of putting it, and it’s an excellent way to keep things in perspective, what with all that’s going on in this world. And yet, for anyone who grew up watching the Swiss Maestro dance his way around the court, it feels like a part of childhood has been closed off forever. Another way to put it is that one of the best and most inspirational athletes that we’ve ever seen, has retired. The idea of the greatest of all time has always been subjective, and comparing statistics between players will only ever reveal part of the story. Some of his records have already been broken, and the rest will likely fall in time.

But sometimes the biggest impact a person can make is one that doesn’t show up in numbers or newspapers. There’s a reason why thousands of people packed into the courts he played on over the last two decades. There’s a reason that so many of us clamoured for a comeback over the last year despite his age and multiple knee surgeries. And there’s a reason that fans from around the globe were glued to their screens every time he fought for a Grand Slam title. It wasn’t just that he won- because he did plenty of that. But it was the way he did it.

If Djokovic is the unbreakable machine, and Nadal the supreme warrior, then Federer is the artist. He played a brutal, 1v1 sport with no time-limits, draws, or team-mates, and he did it in style. His footwork and movement appeared effortless, his shotmaking seemed magical, and his fighting spirit ensured that he never, ever gave up. Over 1,500 matches in his career, and not a single retirement- that’s heart. He played with both grit and grace, and some of his shots made you wonder how he’d managed to get that ball in. That combination of timing, skill, precision, and creativity was pure genius, or at least, it sure looked that way. The most bitter losses and worst defeats came with the greatest comebacks and the hardest-fought victories, and that’s the joy of competition. They’re now cherished memories that were worth the late nights and hard-to-watch moments.

As the years roll on, and our memories grow shorter, it will become harder to remember what all the fuss was about. Our attention spans are heading the wrong way, and we are bombarded constantly with news of “the next one”. Those who never saw him play live will likely struggle to understand the nostalgia of those of us lucky enough to. How can you even begin to describe an experience like it? The quiet scratch of shoe on court, the shaking off of sweat, the narrowed gaze down towards his opponent- all the little intangibles that words cannot describe. The running forehand whipped crosscourt past a flailing racket, the step into a pure backhand down the line, the softest and surest of volleys, the unreadable serve, and the movement- the dance across the lines that made it hard to believe he was ever out of position. Any attempts to convey what you saw fall flat, and all you can say is “you had to be there”.

We wanted one more Wimbledon run, one more shot at a major, one more flash of brilliance in a gripping final, but it wasn’t to be.

The game will never be the same. 🎾🙌

From a little kid who wanted to be you on court, thank you Roger Federer.

#heresince03 #theFedexpressleavesthestation #quietplease