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As detectives say in mystery novels, it added up. The breaking serve. The forehand into the open court. Bob coming in on that return: known for 100 years as the chip-charge, was simply a less elegant version of the SABR (Sneak Attack By Roger). The drop shot, a tool that in 2009 had helped Federer at last win Roland Garros. And, of course, that stiletto of a slice backhand. As those detectives also said upon witnessing a slain femme fatale: there you had it, one heck of a bloody crime scene—pretty and ugly, all at once.
What? Consider that the Swiss maestro, the man who has elicited more swooning than any tennis player in history, might best be understood via Brad Gilbert’s 1993 tactical classic, Winning Ugly. As Gilbert wrote:
Study and build. Deploy and destroy. Does anyone in tennis history do this with as much technical and tactical acuity and diversity as Federer?
“When you play tennis, you play to a rhythm,” says Tennis Channel analyst Jimmy Arias. “It’s instinctual. You’re used to a similar pace. Roger doesn’t let you do that. He does so many things to take time and space away from his opponents.”
But how can the Swiss Maestro and Crafty Bob occupy common ground? Surely that can’t be, not when such writers as the late David Foster Wallace describe Federer like this: “The metaphysical explanation is that Roger Federer is one of those rare, preternatural athletes who appear to be exempt, at least in part, from certain physical laws.”
Ah, the exaltation of genius at the expense of education. Tennis players, often cocooned in cushy clubs, headed home in comfortable cars to cozy homes, tend to imbue tennis with aesthetic notions far different than the argot of other sports. Do recreational basketball and softball players evaluate the artistic composition of a tip-in or base hit? Since when was tennis meant to be a judged competition like gymnastics, figure skating or even boxing?
In 1925, nearly 70 years before Gilbert’s book was published, world number one Bill Tilden wrote Match Play and the Spin of the Ball, an ancestor to Winning Ugly that has been praised extensively by such champions as John Newcombe and Billie Jean King.
Here again, Federer is a master. If the allure of Federer is his dance, the ballet-like movement that evokes Baryshnikov, the rules of competition are such that he is obligated not to tango, but to repeatedly trip his dance partner—albeit, in Federer’s case, rather subtly.
“With Nadal you feel bludgeoned, beaten with a club while you’re on the ground,” says Arias. “With Federer, you feel more like you’ve been dissected. You’re losing points in so many ways, it becomes interesting, as if you’re a witness.”