Roger Federer and the Long Goodbye

The ascent of a superstar athlete to the pinnacle of the game rivets fans, often polarizing the media.  It invigorates opponents and stimulates sponsors.

It is a life force in its own dimension. As the adulation grows, the debate enlarges.  Is he, is she, and are they, the greatest ever?

But, the process is much like being born.  The minute you announce yourself with that first sharp intake of breath and shriek of annoyance, you begin the process of dying...a fatalistic but realistic way to view life.  You cannot remain King of the Mountain forever. 

Looking back, it is easy to see the peak—that ultimate point in time reached before the descent began.

For Roger Federer, it was his triumph in 2007 to recover from a loss against Fernando Gonzalez in the first round robin contest to capture his fourth year end Masters Championship in Shanghai.  Roger defeated Rafael Nadal, 6-4, 6-1, in the semis and David Ferrer in the finals, 6-2, 6-3, 6-2. 

In 2007, Roger won three grand slams for the third time.  It is hard to qualify those amazing results.  Still, 2007 revealed chinks in the armor. 

He lost to Guillermo Canas twice—once at Indian Wells and again in Miami—then he lost in the third round in Rome to Fillipo Volandri. 

For Federer and his fans, these kinds of losses were unexpected and disturbing.  His ability to win tournaments was as natural as breathing...so what was happening?

He lost the French Open final for the second consecutive time to Rafael Nadal.  Annoying, but not truly unexpected.

He did win the 2007 Wimbledon final, defeating Nadal; but Rafa took him to five sets.  Still, Nadal faded after Wimbledon and was not much of a factor the rest of the year.

After Roger’s strong comeback, ending 2007 as the year-end Masters Series champion, everyone expected him to sweep Sampras’ record of 14 grand slam titles aside like so much dust. There were polls set out for people to pick not if Federer would break the Sampras record, but when he would do it.

The year 2008, however, would prove to be the most difficult and at the same time the most courageous of Federer’s years as a pro.  The first step down began in Melbourne. 

It is important to note that the descent is not a head-first dive off the high board.  It often is gradual with its own unique parameters of peaks and valleys. 

More than likely, it is brought on by injury or illness.  As in Federer’s case, it was mononucleosis that laid low the champion. 

The defeat of Federer by Novak Djokovic in the semi-finals of the 2008 Australian Open was seismic.  The tennis world could not fathom the loss played against the backdrop of Federer’s legend.  Here was a man who always made the finals.  Here was a man who won championships consistently.

He had made the finals of every grand slam since the 2005 French Open, when he lost in the semis to Rafael Nadal.  He had been in the last 10 Grand Slam finals.

Roger went on to make the last three Grand Slam finals of 2008, losing to Nadal at the French, losing to Nadal at Wimbledon and finally winning his fifth consecutive U.S. Open championship by defeating Andy Murray. 

If he had achieved these successes on his way up, everyone would have applauded his efforts and praised his ability to advance into the late stages of Grand Slams.

But because these accomplishments were earned on the descending side of his career, they are treated with suspicion. 

What is happening?  Why is he losing?  Will he ever win again?

Sustained excellence in a given sport varies depending on its physical requirements.  You look at longevity in any arena as a testament to a player’s personal commitment, physical and mental acumen and often, good luck. 

When you look at those who withstood the rigors for many years—like Johnny Unitas of the Baltimore Colts; or Edwin Moses, who ran the 400 meter low hurdles; or Carl Yastrzemski, who played baseball for the Boston Red Sox; or Martina Navratilova, who played competitive tennis into her 50s—they all had extraordinarily long careers in their venues. 

They contributed with consistent excellence to their individual sports.

Roger Federer, many have said, probably had the best four years in tennis history from 2004-2007.  But he turned pro in 1998.  So he ascended for nine years. 

According to Federer’s announced plans, he could descend also for nine years, taking him to age 36.  Roger points to Andre Agassi as his role model.

Agassi remained a fixture at the top of the men’s game until he retired from back ailment complications at age 36.

Roger’s fans and the media need to learn to look at Federer’s game and detail expectations with new eyes.  He will never dominate like he did those four years at the top of the men’s game. 

His prime has passed—but that does not mean he is irrelevant.  Quite the contrary.  He remains a force to be feared with a game to be reckoned with.

He may never be No. 1 again.  That seems to be fodder for Rafael and the new guys.  But there are still the grand slams.  He needs another one to tie Sampras at 14; and then one more to surpass the great Pete.  All seems quietly within the realm of possibility. 

Remember, Pete Sampras did not go quietly into that good night, either.  He fought for his own records and his own sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction. As did Agassi. As did Lendl.  As did Wilander and McEnroe. Some lasted longer than others in the pro game.   

What sustains that superstar athlete is what imbues him or her with longevity.  The desire to compete must outweigh the need to be No. 1, to be on top, to be the media darling. 

When you see Lance Armstrong training again for cycling or Brett Favre returning to the huddle—you must see that desire to compete trumps money, fame, or logic.

For Roger Federer, the desire, the love of the game reigns supreme.  He lives to play tennis.

Roger has given everything to the game.  His sportsmanship, his endorsements, his willingness to speak out—all have benefited tennis. 

He has done his fair share.  Now he needs to be selfish and concentrate on those goals he has left to achieve.  Remember, he still has nine years to come down the mountain.