As Roger Federer hobbled and limped to the finish line of another long, grinding season, it struck me that many of you agonized and fretted mightily as you watched him close on tape, sometimes forgetting that while he was a bit wobbly, his major rivals were a country mile behind - some of them progressing as ponderously as TMF, others sprinting as if they actually believed they could catch up.
I found it fascinating, for what it revealed about the standard we have applied to and expected from Federer. It's an impossible standard that he has proven possible each time he unsheathes the stick with the Big Red W on it. This has created, in some ways, a dilemma of epic and tantalizing proportions.
It seems surreal to realize that all Federer must do to become the all-time Grand Slam singles champion is have a 2008 that is as good - not even better! - than the present year. Federer is on track to shatter Pete Sampras's mark of 14 Grand Slam titles, with Rafael Nadal as his only legitimate rival (and so far, at just two of the four majors). This puts TMF in a position almost unheard of in tennis lore and legend. Right now, Federer's main rival in the quest for the record is. . . Federer.
The "Shadow Federer", if you like.
And each time the Shadow Federer has raised the bar, the flesh-and-blood Federer has answered the call. It's like the guy is playing a game of comeuppance against the one opponent nobody can beat. Himself.
This is not meant to disparage the quality of Nadal's game, the emerging talents of Novak Djokovic, or even the continued huffings and chuffings of Andy Roddick. I dwell on this angle of the multi-faceted story only to underscore the unique corner into which Federer has painted himself with the brush strokes of genius.
Think back on the great champions of recent years, from Sampras to Borg to Lendl and Laver. Each of them were, at various times, embroiled in rivalries - often, multiple rivalries - with players who were, on any given day (as opposed to certain selected days) their equals. Sampras had Agassi, a rivalry that was explosive, unpredictable, and subject to shifts of momentum. Borg and Lendl played musical chairs in the tennis firmament with McEnroe and Connors. Laver was tormented by Ken Rosewall and there was always the towering menace of dashing, mustachioed John Newcombe.
What does Federer have? He has had - to this point - Nadal, for longer than not, a boy fighting a dogged guerrilla war with distinctly guerrilla-like tools and tactics. When I envision Federer in battle dress, I see him wearing a bright red waistcoat with gleaming brass buttons and a plumed hat, gilt-handled saber dangling at his side. I see Nadal in sleeveless fatigues and a boonie hat, cartridge belt strapped across his grimy and dirt-streaked chest. He likes to do battle in the dust, although he's recently made great strides in meadow warfare.
Beyond that, it's borderline tautological to suggest that Federer has been so dominant for lack of quality rivals in the same way that it's screwy to say the only reason the sky is blue today is because there are no big scary rain clouds around. That's the point, pilgrim!
I have only one quibble with the the Federer-Nadal rivalry; young Rafa matured into TMF's rival a bit too late - Federer had already put enough distance between himself and the rest of the pack to benefit, and greatly, I think, from the confidence and command that is the chief mental weapon of every great player.
Next year, Nadal, Djokovic, et al will basically be waging a "Stop Federer" campaign, even if they don't exactly see it that way, and would never put it that way. Those rivals will be much on Federer's mind, but the 800-pound gorilla in the room will be the simple fact of "pressure." The question of the coming days will be: Should Federer's level of play drift down to a more earthly plane, will he still have the confidence, poise and emotional flexibility to withstand the shock, dismay, criticism and morbid diagnoses that will be directed at him from so many quarters - including, perhaps, the Shadow Federer?
We saw inklings of what lies in store for TMF in the U.S. Open final, in which Federer's continuing ability to win big points got a welcome, and seemingly invaluable, assist from Djokovic's inexperience as a Grand Slam finalist. Watching that match, I not only felt that Djokovic was a critical step short of breakthrough, I also thought Federer walked the edge of the razor blade slicing his persona in two: mortal player riven with anxieties on one side (Is this the end times for my ultimacy? Is this that day when they shall murmur, Thus was it written. . .), quicksilver, you-cant-touch-this genius on the other.
TMF needs three wins to get over the Sampras hump; they're likely to be the three toughest of his career. It ain't easy playing yourself, or, perhaps more accurately, playing to a standard that is impossibly high and impossible to sustain. The question is, when does Federer stop sustaining? When does that break point forehand corkscrew into the net, or that service return that previously fell in (by a hair!) fall just out (by a hair!). Will it start - and it always starts, portending an inevitable, gut-wrenching, but oddly humanizing glide to the end of a career - when TMF is 35, and weighted down by 32 major singles titles, or sooner? The odds are on sooner, but just how "soon" is "sooner"?
Federer's dilemma is intriguing. Most fans are like typical Las Vegas gambling patsies; they have high hopes. Federer fans, like those professional gamblers in ten-gallon hats and wraparound shades, have high expectations, even though those fans are - surprisingly enough, for this is sports - ever ready to leap to TMF's defense on the rare occasions that he does get tripped up. When the New York Jets start playing lousy, their fans boo lustily; if and when Federer begins to play poorly, his supporters will either cue up Beethoven's Eroica, or fling themselves off microwave towers.
In the lingua franca of the pro game, the word "expectations" is taboo - if you read the press transcripts, you'll see that savvy players avoid the word "expectations" as if it were toxic. But isn't that what TMF is all about these days? Expectations? Aren't legions of fans, along with the merely curious, and even his scowling critics, expecting to see the record broken?
This position does not offer Federer a wide comfort zone, yet nobody in the history of the game, save Sampras, has operated in so tight a one with such poise and mastery. Yet Sampras was off-the-radar in a way that Federer is not. Heck, people have nominated TMF for UN General Secretary, he hobnobs with the drama-queens of fashion, and his name has practically become a synonym for "elegant." This is one transcendent dude, even in the U.S. Everybody knows him, even if nobody knows that much about him. Roger Federer is a brand, although few people recognize that yet.
One element of Sampras's genius was the ability to go about his business as a record-smasher in a way that was a little less smooth but also a lot less conspicuous than Federer. For one thing, nobody really thought Roy Emerson's previous record (12 titles) was in jeopardy until Sampras set sail in uncharted waters to Shanghai it. By contrast, we have been in Roger Federer Grand Slam Record Watch mode for a few years now, our nervous fingers itching to hit the fast-forward button. See that great big green cloud taking up most of the radar screen? That would be Roger. Hi Roger!
Remaining off-the-radar was part of Sampras's career game plan. He not only avoided controversy, he also eschewed high-profile appearances and associations (hobnobbing with Wayne Gretzky and attending Los Angeles Laker games excepted, which right there tells you something about the difference between these two gents).
Although Agassi is not entirely germane to a Grand Slam record discussion, there is another valuable analogy to be made through him: If Sampras's life and personality were off-the-radar, Agassi's game was often off-the-radar, and he often did his most damaging work when people least expected it. TMF, by contrast, has done most of his damaging work when people have most expected it, although we can pencil in the French Open as the rule-proving exception.What all this adds up to, in my book, is an interesting equation that leaves out the Nadals and Djokovics of this world, insofar as only a complete mastery of TMF - the kind of match that is, frankly, inconceivable - would alter the terms of the formula.
Just as the three most important elements in real estate are "location, location, location", the three most critical aspects of winning tennis are "execution, execution, execution." The issue, as Federer embarks on the final stage of his Grand Slam record journey, is: Can this guy continue to execute his game as he has in the past, with all that pressure gathering around him? Federer has passed this test in the past with flying colors, on innumerable but smaller occasions. We are still waiting for him to blink, and it should be encouraging to his fans that there are men and women out there who did not blink, including Sampras. Pete has told me that he never choked. He played lousy matches, he was sometimes outplayed, at times he lacked sufficient motivation. But choke? "That just didn't happen to me," he said.
Through his own genius, TMF has worked himself into a place where the demand for him to play extraordinary tennis is as common as a morning call for a Vente Macchiato With an Extra Shot and Lactose-Free Two-Percent, easy on the Foam. . . Should Federer encounter a glitch - and we have had premonitions of this during his recent, infrequent losses and close calls - the cry will go up: What's wrong with Federer? And anyone familiar with the theory of The Big Lie knows that if you say something often enough, many people will take it for gospel truth. Let's hope that one of those "someones" is not the Shadow Federer.
We can't assume that Federer will be immune to such nibblings at the edges of his eminence. You don't know until you get there, and nobody who got there was ever entirely resistant. For example, when Sampras's results started to slip about 18 months before he won his last major, the "R" word (retirement) was bandied about so often, so pervasively, that even Pete - who had never entertained the idea of quitting at that stage - began to question and second guess himself. Although nobody would be asking TMF about retiring should he struggle in a few majors (check that: some meathead is bound to), he will be bombarded with suggestions that his game has slipped, that he has topped the hill of career and gone over to the downhill side, that Nadal has matured, or that Djokovic has him "figured out".
How well Federer manages pressure will become the dominant theme as he strives to shatter the mark, and that will be a critical issue in direct proportion to the degree-of-difficulty the mission presents. At the close of 2007, Federer's backing chorus chants, Red sky at night, sailor's delight. . but come January, the only prudent approach will be, Red Sky at Morning, sailors take warning. . How well TMF manages any potential tempest that threatens to interrupt his miraculous journey will be interesting to watch, although part of me hates to see people go through crises created by expectations, even their own.
So there we are. The question of the moment for 2008 is not, Can Federer hold off Nadal or Djokovic?, it is, Can Federer continue to dance so smoothly with the Shadow Federer? And that may have a lot more to do with TMF than his rivals. It will have to do with execution, and TMF's ability to continue to bear expectations as if they were a healthy tan, rather than necklace of millstones. Should he falter, I can think of half-a-dozen guys who will welcome the opportunity to pounce, and squeeze both sides of the already narrow comfort zone.
It all makes me wish Federer had less abstract things to worry about (e.g., the Nadal forehand, the Djokovic serve) because, as we saw in the U.S. Open final, this constant battle against pressure is a nerve-wracking thing.
The situation reminds me of those basketball half-time shows in which a lucky (or is the opposite?) member of the crowd gets to heave a basketball from half-court, with a million bucks waiting if he makes the basket. I would almost rather have to throw it from half-court than have to shoot one from the foul line, because there's pressure - and then there's pressure.
And right now, Federer is standing at that foul line. I cannot imagine myself in his shoes.