I spent the Thursday night's men's semifinal moving back and forth between a seat in Laver Arena and my seat in the pressroom, where I watched on the TV monitor in front of me. Live impressions mixed with a little of the television commentary is the ideal combination for getting your thoughts together about a match.
Doing a guest stint as a commentator for Australia’s Channel 7 was Pat Rafter. As the dazzling first set between Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic unfolded, Rafter said what a pleasure it was to sit in the stadium and see these guys first-hand. He saved his highest praise for Federer. Rafter, like so many other ex-pros who marvel at what the Swiss maestro can do, is a fan.
The two-time Slam champ made his admiration even clearer in the middle of the second set. What did Rafter do? Did he yell, “Ozzie, ozzie, ozzie, Rogi, Rogi, Rogi!”? Did he put his finger to his lips and whisper to Jim Courier, “Shhh, genius at work”? No, Rafter did something more common among Federer fans who played the game at a high level: He groaned at his tactics. Rafter thought that Federer had done the right thing early in the set by mixing spins and trajectories with Djokovic, and that going back to hitting hard with him was a mistake.
Rafter may or may not have been right, but one thing is for sure: He was not the first quality tennis player to become exasperated with the way Federer uses his talents. It’s pretty much a cottage industry, and has been going for what seems like decades.
Mats Wilander, to cite the most extreme example, said Federer had no [insert punchier synonym for "guts" here]. Pat Cash, after Federer won Wimbledon for a fourth or fifth time, said, essentially, “Yeah, that’s fine, but I really wish he would come to the net more.” I wondered what Cash would have said if someone, the night after he won Wimbledon in 1987, had come up to him as he was celebrating and said, “Not bad, Cashy, but I really wish you would have won a few more points from the baseline while you were at it.” He would have smashed a beer can against his forehead.
The list goes on. From the top down, every player seems to have expert advice for Federer, especially when it comes to beating Rafael Nadal. I had dinner a few years ago with a guy who had toured on the amateur circuit back in the day. He was adamant that Federer could beat Nadal at the French Open, if he would just his slice backhand down the line instead of crosscourt. But Federer, apparently, was too stupid to realize it. A teaching pro at the National Tennis Center told me that if Federer would run around and crank his forehand return, Nadal would be toast and never win another set against him.
This is a specialized version of a wider phenomenon among sports fans regarding Federer, and one that was in evidence again last night. In the middle ot one of the superb exchanges between the two players early in the first set, Federer stood up too quickly on a backhand and framed it badly, and loudly, toward the seats. A ripple of semi-shocked laughter went through the crowd: Roger Federer had hit the frame, and they were there to see it! Among his fans, the phenomenon manifests itself in an unwillingness to put any limits on what he can do. Call him a baseliner and you’ll get a sharp look: How dare you suggest that Roger Federer is a bargain-basement baseline-hugging grinder! No category has been invented that can satisfactorily describe the great man.
In their own way, tennis players and instructors do the same thing—they see no limits to Roger Federer. They see all that easy flair and versatility, and they think that he must be able to do anything he wants, to make anything happen at will. Nadal, that clunky kid? Slice your backhand down the line, Rog, and you’ll never have to worry about him again. Djokovic the two-handed basher? Hit it out of his strike zone and he’s sure to combust on the spot. And why make it so easy on yourself by winning Wimbledon from the baseline? You know you can win it at the net; just do it for the hell of it. That’s what I would do if I had your talent.
Federer talked about the “monster of expectations” that he had created when he lost to Djokovic here three years ago. He didn’t say anything like that last night. The monster is not roaring at the moment; the semifinals is the best that Federer has done at a major in a year now.
But the beast, and the burden of his talent, lives on. I watched a good part of his match against Gilles Simon with a fellow journalist, part-time player and card-carrying Federer admirer. Every time Federer missed a shot, even if it was a tough one on the run, my colleague would look at me in disbelief: “What’s he doing?” Even blatant winners by Simon were somehow Federer’s fault, as if he could have prevented them if only he was doing what he should be doing. The idea that another player could simply hit a ball past Roger Federer wasn't credible. He must have been able to prevent it somehow.
If I’ve noticed this phenomenon, surely Federer has as well. And you can hear his frustration with it at times. He was asked at this tournament about his new “aggressive” style. Federer said, “it wasn’t like I was just pushing the ball in the court before,” all those years that he was winning Slam after Slam.
It’s the price of being better than everyone else: Nothing is ever good enough.