He's a real person. He's not an enigma. Off the court he's not trying to be somebody.

If you met him at McDonald's and you didn't know who he was,
you would have no idea that he's one of the best athletes in the world.

—Andy Roddick on Federer

Roger Federer can't cook. That's it. That's the only negative I've got. Digging deeper and looking for hidden faults is a futile exercise. 

I covered the Western & Southern Financial Group Masters and Women's Open (CincyTennis in shorthand). The event is as media friendly as you'll find on the professional sports stage, and because Federer reached—and won—the final, he was around all week. In my case, that meant shooting courtside during three matches, sitting in the interview room for three post-match pressers, watching fans flock to his practice sessions, and encountering him in a stairway (no, not like that). 

I wanted to write an objective piece after a week spent in the presence of the GOAT (Greatest of All Time). No fangirl gushing allowed. And, so, I sought the opinion of a good friend—a Nadal fan—to see what critics might say about the Maestro.

"He's a wimp," my friend said. "Titles aside, you've got Nadal, DelPo, and Verdasco rocking the big guns. Davydenko looks like he could sink your battleship with a single, icy glare. Roddick has that knockout swimsuit girl for a wife. Djokovic wins over the crowd with his court-jester humor. And, then, there's Roger. Perfect, boring, well-spoken, skinny Roger. With that hair. I wouldn't want him backing me up in a bar fight."

Well, yes, my friend has a point. Federer plays with the effortless grace of Baryshnikov and seems almost delicate on court. While Nadal attacks with brutality, Roger plays a more calculated mind game marked by finesse. His fashion choices—pink shirts, tailored shorts, and a longtime friendship with Vogue's Anna Wintour—mirror his style of play.  And, he serves up ace upon ace with a decidedly cerebral quality. Fans hold up a banner reading, "Shhhhh! Quiet. Genius at work."

He opens doors for women. He gives candid, interesting interviews to 13-year-old citizen journalists. His eyes sparkle as he discusses his wife Mirka and twin daughters. Even when given an opportunity to trash Cincinnati, a tour stop which some players say lacks the cosmopolitan flair of Barcelona, Monte Carlo, and New York, he comes up with something charming to share about the Midwest. After fielding question after question in English, he goes on to conduct interviews fluently in both French and Swiss German. 

And, yet, at the risk of disappointing my friend who expects FedEx to be too nice, there's another side. Roger—on or off court—is no pushover. 

Kanye West's "Stronger" plays at the start of each of Fed's matches. At first, it seems like an oxymoron given his status as the beauty shot guy. Or, not, as it turns out. Darned if the guy doesn't move around the court on changeovers with an almost Safin-like swagger. (Nadal, by comparison, mopes.)

There's a palpable moment as he waits to return serve when you realize you wouldn't want to face him at a poker table in Vegas. He stares down his challenger and blows on his fingers a la Bjorn Borg. In the old days, players did this because they didn't have overgrips. Some do it out of habit, absentmindedly. When Federer does it, it's all about the intimidation factor. "I've got this," he says with a flick of the wrist.

Opponents have meltdowns in his presence. Moments before the Saturday night semifinal, Marcos Baghdatis of Cyprus stood in the tunnel with Fed as they awaited a prematch interview with ESPN's Brad Gilbert. Baggy, despite being built like a heavyweight fighter and having just knocked off Rafa the night before, danced around nervously, fidgeted with his headband, and wiped the visible sweat from his brow.  Federer? He patiently stretched like a jaguar about to bring down his prey.

And, the interview room? He showed up wearing workout clothes and a baseball hat, strutted to the microphone, and threw his leg over the chair to sit in one swift motion.  It felt like we were about to toss back a few beers in a frat house. "Questions?" 

On his trick shot Gillette ad: “You know how it is with magicians” he said with a sly grin. “They don’t tell how their tricks work.”

On losing:  "Well, look, I've had an incredible career, so when I lose, I'm sad for five minutes...That's always been easy to digest since the last seven, eight years since I won my first Wimbledon and became No. 1 in the world. For me, that completed my career really. That's all I've ever wanted was to hold the Wimbledon trophy, and I was able to do that already in 2003. So I could have walked away then feeling a very happy man, because I did something all my idols did."

On his quarters victory over Davydenko:  "I was able to play well really when I wanted to." When he wanted to? 

On playing in suburban Cincinnati: "I like the idea of coming from bigger cities to smaller cities, back to bigger cities. Doesn't always need to be Paris, London, New York and all that stuff...That kind of relaxes you. It's less stressful. I drive my own car here, go to coffee shops, go hang out, read some books, spend time with friends, go to the movies. You know, it's just a bit of a different, how do you say, feeling here."

On his culinary expertise: “I can’t cook,” he told a pair of junior reporters from Cincinnati.com. “I can barely make an egg.” Thankfully, he said, Mirka is an incredible cook, as is his mother. “I’m lucky to have them...You guys should learn cooking, too, because it's good. I can't do it, so you'll be one up on me.”

Lesson learned: Real men wear pink, and Federer is anything but boring. Just don't ask him to make you breakfast.

Story and Photos: Andrea Nay

To see more from this series, visit my blog.