Does anyone else think Roger Federer might be, if not exactly a happier, than at least a less lonely man, if on the heels of yesterday's Australian Open final he took the unavoidable chance and said that to someone himself? As I just wrote a few hours ago for ESPN, yesterday Federer stood by, disgruntled and hapless in a desultory fifth set, watching his empire crumble. Those are dramatic terms into which to put the final, and let's keep in mind that on a day when The Mighty Fed was technically deficient (oh, that serve!) and seemingly playing within himself (and I don't mean not in the good way), he still made a war of it, forcing Nadal to reach deep into his competitive heart to take the final. This was a deeply resonant match, in concrete as well as abstract ways.
Naked fact: With his obvious, results-based hard-court supremacy, Federer still commanded fully half the Grand Slam resources until yesterday. He could concede Roland Garros to Nadal, and take some comfort in his 2-1 head-to-head over Nadal at Wimbledon. He's also entitled to look at that last, epochal Wimbledon final as one of those rare days day when the planets were aligned for him - a costly investment that didn't quite pan out, but which did little to diminish his overall capital. Two of the four majors are on hard courts; that means Federer could look forward to at least six, eight more chances to shatter Pete Sampras's Grand Slam singles title mark (14). And Sampras himself 31 when he bagged his last Grand Slam title, in New York. On hard courts?
Yesterday, Federer squandered a good deal of that capital. And with at least four legitimate young stars showing a marked preference for hard courts (Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and even Juan Martin del Potro), that capital will be awfully hard to earn back. Last September, Federer had to grit his teeth, whip up a storm in his soul, do what he's least good at (getting his hands dirty) in order to win the US Open.
This time, which was the next time he was called upon to do that, under similarly advantageous circumstances (Federer had won three of the last five Australian Open titles, and was a semifinalist on the other two occasions), he was unable to produce the wild eye or the grit. A lot of that had to do with the quality of his competition, Nadal. But I think a lot of it had to do with TMF, too. And you could see it in his eyes, enough of the time, to know you didn't just happen to catch him at a vulnerable moment.
For the better part of a day, I've been trying to find just the right words for what I saw written on Federer's face during so many intervals in the final, and in the end the best I can do is say that he looked hurt and. . . put upon. Everyone has different ways of expressing fear, anger, hope, confidence, desire, but the message to me, time and time again, was that if a thought-bubble could appear over TMF's head, it would have contained these words: Sheesh, what is it with this guy? Why is he so on my case? What do I have to do to get rid of him, for gosh sakes?
By contrast, Nadal could not have looked more different: He was a guy so totally involved in his work that I'm surprised the camera didn't catch him humming. Nadal was content to plow furrows into that hard court with his searing forehand, or take his sweet old time as he painstakingly lined up that left serve to land sufficiently to the left of his opponent. He wasn't exactly a picture of happiness, mind you, because he was too busy for that. But Federer wasn't busy enough to keep from looking profoundly unhappy - and that's a greater liability than the absence of overt joy.
Nadal looked like a man absorbed in building a ship in a bottle; Federer looked like he needed a drink. This can't be happening to me. . . I can't do anything to stop this from happening to me.
That something like that appeared to be running through Federer's mind is consistent with Federer's history, and even with his character as a player. There's a deal with the devil at the bottom of all this, and it goes something like this: I will give you outrageous skills, allow you to glide where others stagger, and free you to soar where others labor to fly. But I will collect my due in the form of a rival against whom those abilities will not be sufficient, against whom you will have to call on or develop resources of your own, to do what is required by your ambition.
This is why we're entering what might be the most interesting phase of Federer's career, at least to those who want to see a warrior as well as a performer, a conqueror, not just a king. Yesterday, Nadal issued Federer with his ultimate reality-check: Are you going to cowboy up, or just lay there and bleed to death? I don't think that's unfair, or too much to ask of a man whose ambitions are as grand as those of Federer. And on the whole I prefer seeing tears of effort to tears of disappointment; they're more useful and valuable to everyone.
For the better part of a year now, the Federer camp (in the broadest sense) has been operating in a state of denial. Yesterday demonstrated that Nadal is not just at the gate, that he's broken it down and he's swarming over the walls. And others will be emboldened to follow. If today is just a bad day for Federer, as opposed to a new day, with all the risk but also all the promise a new day holds, he'll be in trouble. And that's exactly why he ought to read those words of Roddick's and take a little time to mull over them.
The obvious question is, how do you shake things up if you're Roger Federer? But the more persuasive underlying question is, Can you shake things up if you're Roger Federer? I'm reminded of that quote-for-all-seasons, Pride Goeth Before the Fall. I'm not in Federer's head, so I can't speculate on just how much of Federer's "problem" with Nadal, or anyone else, is a pride problem. I can say for sure, though, that a fella can get mighty comfortable being Roger Federer, or who TMF was in those glorious years between January of 2004 and the beginning of 2008. And he would have to be a pretty modest and realistic guy to realize he isn't that guy anymore.
We're now in a position to take measure of a quality that Federer has not been called upon to show in any meaningful sense so far, his resilience. He may never earn another win over Nadal, or win a another major, even if he adopts a strength-training routine, sharpens up his down-the-line forehand, and changes to a two-handed backhand (one technical theme that stood out to me in the final: as attractive a shot as the one-hander is, the bombardment inflicted on Federer's port side clearly showed the strength deficit of the shot - wasn't it Ivan Lendl who said that, having to do it all over again, he would have developed a two-handed backhand to use when returning serve?). But if Federer doesn't try to make some changes, and he fails to win a few more majors, he'll always be open to the "what ifs?"
This challenge to be more resilient is anathema to most players, simply because most players like to stick with what they know. And the better (or, more successful) the player, the more likely he or she is to resist or even scoff at the notion of re-tooling. This is the old dance with the one that brung you approach to a career, and it serves most players well. Those who have the courage - for that's what it takes, although desperation can be a factor - to make changes usually are the ones stuck somewhere between levels. A great example of that is Roddick, who seems willing to try anything in order to stay in the mix at the top. At the other end of the spectrum you have a Bjorn Borg, who decided he would rather quit than answer the challenge posed by serving-and-volleying John McEnroe.
This is a thorny problem for Federer indeed, because his game is drop-dead gorgeous and fundamentally sound. Besides, the guy isn't losing to every ATP Tom, Dick, and Harry. He's got the Rafa nightmare to deal with, but I wouldn't discount the menace represented by the other two in the group that's loosely been called the Big Four, plus a handful of players who have to be considered threatening, if not yet destined to win multiple Slams. On the order of degree-of-difficulty, the next step down from winning majors is getting into position to win them, a situation on which the ultimate authorities are the likes of Marat Safin, James Blake, and David Nalbandian.
If Federer hired a coach, it would first of all be a shot fired across the bow of his rivals. and a signal that he's not about to take all this lying down. And because it would take months for the partnership to coalesce and begin producing results - evidenced either by changed routines or different results - it would give Federer some breathing room. What if Federer had hired a full-time coach last February, and his advice to Roger before yesterday's final was to step around the backhand service return and whack the forehand. Would TMF had followed the advice? Would he have been successful enough with it to beat Nadal? We'll never know. What we do know is that he had no coach to impart that advice, and didn't appear to think of doing it on his own. And that he lost. And that the particular opportunity of yesterday will never, ever present itself again.
Another thing we know is that Nadal had specific things he wanted to accomplish against Federer, and he pursued those goals with the diligence of a child bent on successfully completing a very difficult homework assignment.
There isn't much to improve in TMF's game, but that also means a little change could go a long way. I don't know if Federer sat down to think about how criticial it might be for him to serve consistently well in the final (I mean, duh!), or what he might do if he found himself struggling with his serve (which he did). But I have to believe that sitting over dinner with his coach on Saturday night, and having that coach stress a few elements like that, could only have added to his clarity and resolve. A great coach-player relationships isn't, or at least doesn't need to be, all that complicated. Wouldn't it feel good for Federer to dart that quick glance at the player box, where his coach sits, after he wins a point thanks to a maneuver he and his coach decided to try? Would having another set of eyes on Rafa's game through six rounds in Melbourne have helped?
When a coach becomes a trusted friend and adviser, the emotional payoff also can be significant. It can take you out of yourself, and thus relieve the burden on your shoulders. I don't know if Federer still has the game to beat Nadal - that heavy, topspinning forehand to the one-handed backhand, that fearsome set-up shot that Nadal keeps so busy that it can set up nothing, is but one of the built-in advantages Nadal enjoys. Yesterday, Federer looked like Roddick must feel when he's playing. . . Federer. Perhaps he should start his self-reinvention by coming to grips with that irony. But does he have sufficient humility to come to that realization by himself, and is he secure and trusting enough to have it brought to him by someone else? What appears unfair through one prism can be the opposite when viewed through a different lens. Does Federer really look through enough lenses, and does it still make sense, career-wise, to try?
Studying Federer and Nadal during the match I was also struck by the degree to which Federer looked like he was all alone. This is a condition to which all great champions are subject, and one they must learn to handle with grace and aplomb. That's not a hard assignment when you're winning, or on top, and that air of radical alone-ness only increases the strong light shining on your wonderful, superior, kicking-butt-and-taking-names self. But it's different when you're losing, which may explain why Federer so often looked so fragile. And there's another, and perhaps the best, reason to have a coach. It's the pure and simple companionship, a relationship that no woman - at least not in a typical emotional relationship - can provide. It would be one thing if Federer went down snarling and kicking and clawing. But he did not. He looked like a man who did not handle "alone" well, and isn't that in the end why any of us sheds tears - because we feel we are alone?
