Roger Federer: The Day the Music Died...

"American Pie" is a rock 'n' roll classic penned and sung by Don McLean.  We have long assumed that the song was a tribute to Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper, who died in a plane crash after performing at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa, in February of 1959. 

The song was released in 1971.  Today it is considered a benchmark in rock 'n' roll history.

It is essentially a lyric poem that decries the loss of these famed artists and paints their premature deaths as a rite of passage from rock 'n' roll to something else...McLean points to it as the day the music died...

Early rock and roll was innocent, young, carefree and oh-so danceable!  As it moved from these early artists to Bob Dylan, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and others, it lost its innocence and became more sensual, cynical, and dark—much darker, reflecting the American psyche as it moved into the turbulent Sixties. 

The music evolved even though it was still called rock 'n' roll...reminding us that change isn’t always a good thing...sometimes it is difficult to reconcile it with our deepest desires.

As I watched Roger Federer vs. Novak Djokovic during a semifinal contest on the red clay of Rome, I thought of that song.  The lyrics kept popping into my head as I watched the man with the golden ground strokes struggle...

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry…

It was as if someone had siphoned off the essence of his game. He looked and acted drained of the magical fluid that once pumped through his veins and made him invincible. 

The longer he played the more depleted he became...

”I couldn’t take one more step…”

The first set of the match Federer played brilliant tennis at times, always keeping Djokovic under pressure on his own serve.  Federer finally broke Novak to go up, 5-4, ultimately serving out the set and winning, 6-4, in 49 minutes.

At times, Federer seemed to skirt the surface of the court, hardly making contact with the clay beneath his feet.  His shots were crisp and directed, hitting lines and jumping high.  All seemed right with the world inside the Federer kingdom.

The second set began with Federer breaking the Djokovic serve—then holding his own to go up, 2-0. 

The turning point came at game three when Roger had a chance to break Novak’s serve again and go up, 3-0, in the second set. 

A second break of serve would surely have marked the end of Djokovic on this day.  It looked oh-so probable.

While this seismic game was progressing, the skies darkened and rain was imminent.  Under this severe threat, miraculously, Djokovic held.  The score stood 2-1.  A golden opportunity for the Swiss maestro was lost...

"This’ll be the day that I die; this’ll be the day that I die…”

The skies opened and play was suspended. 

“Bad news on the doorstep…”

When play resumed, Djokovic returned inspired.  Roger would win one more game then Novak would stun the crowd and Federer by winning five straight games, taking the set, 6-3. 

“Oh, and while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown…”

Federer, however, regained the upper hand with an early break in the third set, only to suffer the same fate endured in the second—losing the third set, 6-3, the same drain, the same score.  Game, set and match...

“Eight miles high and falling fast; it landed foul on the grass…”

It was like watching Walter Payton carry the ball time after time, advancing it all the way down to the opposition’s 10-yard line—and then not be able to punch it in for a score. 

It was like watching Carl Lewis accelerate all the way down the runway and then scratch on all three attempts during long jump prelims. 

It was like watching Michael Jordan blow a slam dunk, standing all alone under the basket. 

“Oh, and as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage…”

The disappointment over the loss hung suspended in the air. When Djokovic pounded his chest after he won, something snapped. Federer’s features descended into resignation and his posture sank into defeat. 

Suddenly, you wanted him to grab a racket and smash it against anything. You wanted to yell at him, “Let it go—whatever is holding you back!  Time is short—the future is now.  No time to waste on serial regret!”

But only silence reigned and the trump card folded back into the deck, waiting to be played later.  You hope it is not lost in the shuffle. 

Luck, like belief, is intangible in this setting.  Both have vanished from the Federer game...

You wonder...will he enjoy that victory dance again holding the trophy high and kissing it in triumph...?

“Do you believe in rock and roll; can music save your mortal soul?”