!96293748 by Pete Bodo
Mornin', everyone. How about that trophy presentation ceremony Sunday night in Melbourne? That surely was one for the ceremony hall of fame, not least because the obligatory sponsor-thanking and commercial presence was kept tight and brief, as it should be for everyone's benefit, including said sponsors.
My favorite moment of that touching, extended emotional moment occurred not when Murray revealed his anguish at failing to to reward the long-suffering British fans with a Grand Slam title after so many decades of frustration. It was right after Murray, overcome with emotion, abruptly relinquished the microphone.
Roger Federer took it over, and as he began his remarks he suddenly tried to turn and re-position the entire mike stand, so that he could face Murray as he made his remarks. It was one of those telling, spontaneous moments in which a man reveals something about himself - in this case, Federer's decency and heartfelt compassion. Roger wasn't just going to sleepwalk through another variation on the "well played, you're a talented guy, better luck next time" speech. He instinctively wanted to connect with Murray - let the guy know he really did feel his pain, and offer comfort and consolation.
Then that hand of officialdom intruded, and forced the mike stand - and Federer - back into a position suitable for television.
I enjoy having a little fun at Roger's expense now and then; I'll be the first to admit it. It's important to keep things in perspective with this guy, or else you may end up falling to your knees in his presence and offering him your first-born child. But there isn't a player out there more deserving of our respect, or one who, despite his glorious game and remarkable achievements, so frequently and thoroughly acts in a way that reminds us that he's as regular, in the best and deepest sense of the word, as you or I. Who implicity rebukes us whenever we're so overwhelmed by his talent and the sheer beauty of his game that we look upon him as a god among mere mortals.
Most mortals, in their wildest fantasies, aspire to be gods in one way or another - as parents, poets, colleagues, lovers, missionaries. Federer is a god, Mercury at loose on a quarter-acre of cement, who might be said to aspire to be human - but for the fact that there's nothing "aspirational" about it. He just is. The word that keeps popping into my mind isn't very sexy, but it's gold: Decent.
So on to the tennis.
After the women's final, I wrote almost exclusively about the critical importance of the serve as the anchor of anyone's game. I thought the men's final underscored the point as well, albeit in a less conspicuous and far richer way. Male pros, because of their strength, are more inclined to appreciate the real value of that opening stroke; women, because of the lesser role power generally plays in their games, are more inclined these days to focus on the return. Breaking serve is so much the grail in tennis that the WTA ladies sometimes ignore that the ability to break means little if you don't also have the ability to hold. The reigning mindset leads to some highly entertaining shoot-outs, but you're left thinking: That was fun, but it wasn't good tennis.
In the deciding third-set tiebreaker yesterday, Andy Murray missed his last three first serves; it had something to do with the outcome. It was hardly surprising that he missed, though, for throughout the match Murray seemed to be adjusting to the toss of the serve on the fly. He often looked off-balance, like a tower toppling sideways as he struggled to win the race to make contact before he was canted so far out of position that the ball would end up in Mirka Federer's lap instead of Roger Federer's service box.
On the whole, Murray's artless (as in awkward, and sometimes almost painful to watch) serving was of a piece with the rest of his game, and for the first time I saw him in a slightly different light. Murray can look an awful lot like that very tough but rough-edged and clearly unschooled recreational player who becomes the bane of local tournament rivals because of his extra-technical qualities - raw athletic ability, a robust appetite for competition, a talent for concentrating and fighting off nerves.
This shouldn't be surprising, given Murray's history. He's from Scotland, not exactly a hotbed of tennis, and his career was supervised by his mother, Judy. Murray is a DiY tennis player, but that's not automatically a limitation - would any parent or coach teach his daughter to play like Steffi Graf? Would any parent or coach turn down her resume? A good temperament beats technically superior strokes any day; it's one of the things that makes tennis great.
And then there's Federer, who has both - the temperament and the beautiful strokes (except for that one forehand he sometimes sets up for with the racket at a right angle to his arm, like a carpenter holding a framing hammer, but let's not quibble). Add to that a nimble athleticism that made Murray, despite his anticipation and speed, look lumbering and flat-footed, all arms and legs, not always working in perfect harmony.
To me, the way Federer takes care of his serve is a greater key to his success than we acknowledge. It's a tool that he wields with that absolute, nearly unconscious confidence with which our friend the carpenter swings his most basic tool, that hammer. We all know that Federer isn't inordinately, maybe not even moderately, interested in clubbing aces, a la Ivo Karlovic or Andy Roddick. But he doesn't use his serve just to start a point, either. His serve is designed to start the point from as advantageous a position as possible, without pushing the envelope. He's not willing to risk the double fault in hopes of eliciting a really weak return. He wants a so-so return, because that enables him to start the ensuing rally from neutral to slightly favorable term.
Who's going to stay with Federer, throughout an entire match, under those conditions?
I know there are times when Federer must think: I think I'll bring the heat and sneak in to end the point at the net. Or, He's showing me a lot of space on the forehand, I'd better fire up an ace to teach him to show a little more respect. . . Tactics are part of the game, even for Federer.
But you also get the feeling that where to serve, at what pace and with what kind or degree of spin, isn't a question Federer needs to ask himself very often. Other guys, including great servers like Roddick, not only ask themselves such questions, they often live or die by how they answer them. That actually skews the essential balance in their games, and if it sometimes brings great rewards it can also punish them.
Now don't get me wrong; when Roger has a bad serving day, he pays the price. The 2009 Australian Open was a great proof of that. But when Federer is serving fair to well, it has a pervasive if hard to quantify affect on the match. I don't think you have to be a Justine Henin or Elena Dementieva to understand what a luxury it is to know that your serve is automatic - hail, Federer himself probably doesn't even know it is, because thinking about it, even the way a Serena or Andy Roddick thinks about it, makes it something less than automatic, in not by any means less effective.
Automatic.
As I watched Murray struggle, I felt that he was lashed to the wheel of his serve in a way that more or less kept everything on hold until that serve landed somewhere, thereby closing some options even while it opened others. I really appreciated the extent to which Federer's serve liberates him to explore all options. Federer's serve rarely carries him to a landslide win, but it just as rarely gets in his way of doing almost anything. It's a beautifully calibrated weapon, rarely asked to do too much, seldom incapable of doing enough.
For Federer, each serve seems less a task to be completed than an act similar to taking a breath. He knows the air is going to be there; his nervous system and sometimes even his mind tells him just how much to take in or expel, over and over. Having it down pat that way frees Roger up to think about other things or, to the even greater peril of his opponents, follow his instincts. The value of having such a serve is evident in Federer's record.
Roger's serve may not be great, but it's automatic. And that may be even better.
Important note: Next week, we plan to answer some readers' questions in our weekly podcast. So if you have a question you'd like to ask James Martin, Steve Tignor, or me, just send it via e-mail to our dedicated address: podcast@tennis.com. Later today, I'm also posting 5 takeaways from the Australian Open, over at my second home, ESPN.