Is this the end? Roger Federer – Wimbledon 2021

When the champion hit the ball wide of his backhand, his trademark shot, a shot Federer has perfected over the years and could hit with such precision, finesse, and grace – a sense of gloom descended on center court. The final score at the men’s quarterfinals read 6-3, 7-6, 6-0 in favor of the twenty-four-year-old young Polish player Hubert Hurkacz, currently ranked 18th in the world. It was perhaps the best day in Hukacz’s career, to beat his idol, the very man whom he grew up watching on television, and admired as a five-year-old, and what better stage could there be to do it than the hallowed center court at Wimbledon. The young pole played great tennis. He never seemed intimidated by the stature of his opponent, served with competence, volleyed with authority, and played the groundstrokes with precision and placement, often catching Federer off guard. Shot for shot, HurKacz matched the champion, and as the game progressed, got the better of Federer – both physically and psychologically, which is a rarity in more than two decades of the champion’s career. Today, Federer was unable to dig into those deep reservoirs of strength he normally manages to. The balance and poise were simply not there. Those agile legs that have so often moved like a ballet dancer on the court to get into position to play impossible shots, stood rooted and heavy on the ground. For the first time, I saw Federer finding himself out of place on the grass court and the weariness on his face presaged a resignation or acknowledgment of an imminent defeat.

In twenty or more appearances at Wimbledon, Federer has never lost a match in three straight sets. This was the first time. The Pole galloped with the third set, taking it 6-0, leaving Federer’s game in shambles. Two years ago, during the 2019 Wimbledon, I wrote a piece on Federer. I opened that essay with the following words:

“If tennis is likened to Painting, then Roger Federer is its Rembrandt revered for his mastery of depth, light, and color on the canvas; If tennis is Music, then Federer is its Mozart who could draw out infinite mesmerizing melodies on a single theme; if Tennis is dance, then Federer is its Nijinsky whose irresistible energy, timing and dedication blurred the boundaries between the dance and the dancer; if tennis is fiction, then he is the incarnation of Dickens whose writing was emblematic of immaculate structure and grace in every sentence; and If Tennis is religion, Federer is the very soul of the game epitomizing all that is best in the sport.”

There will never be a doubt in anyone’s mind that Federer epitomizes all that is best in Tennis. When we saw him as young challenger in the late 1990s, and through the intervening decades, when he ruled the tennis courts like a colossus, the qualities that endeared him to the millions worldwide were not just the quality of his game, but also his attitude and behavior off the court. He is the complete champion, a role model that any game will proud to hold aloft as worthy of emulation. He brought a sage presence to the game and a razor-sharp focus to whatever he did. There is hardly a tennis enthusiast in the world who wouldn’t admire Federer. They may cheer for another champion, but never at the cost of Federer. This kind of fan-following is a rarity in sports.

After such a loss, there is bound to be speculation about the future of Federer’s career. He is nearing forty, and already, the oldest man to have ever played in the quarter-finals of the Wimbledon in the Open era. Is there anything more left in him? Can he still go on and win more grand slams? These are questions that only Federer can answer, but the fact is that the human body, no matter how well trained or polished, has its physical limits. It will age, it will slow down, and it will take the edge away from the performance. This is the tragedy of sports, of an athlete. A writer, a thinker, or a musician can continue their creative work well past their physical prime, but not a sportsman or a woman. Their active years are numbered, and beyond that, even if the mind is willing and eager, the body will refuse to co-operate. Even a drop of a millisecond in response time is enough to mark the end in tennis, and unfortunately, the greatest of champions also have to live with this. Technique, practice, talent, hard work – all of them will fail, once the arms and legs start slowing down.

The hardest thing however is to know when to stop, when to realize that sport is a time-bound activity, and it is time to move on. For a few years now, Roger has been actively contemplating retirement. He has been vocal about it, stating on all occasions, that he will continue playing till he feels good and capable. Though Grand slam titles have been eluding him for some time, the quality of his game never diminished. Those flashes of brilliance or poetry kept coming frequently. And even when he lost a match, it was not without a real fight or a show of resilience and resurrection. But today, Hursacq annihilated Federer in all departments of the game. The champion had no answer to the challenge. For the first time again, I witnessed a sense of helplessness on Roger’s face, and I couldn’t bear it. There were tears in my eyes. This is how, even the best, will end up.

Going back to my 2019 essay, I concluded it with the following paragraph, which bears repetition here. I wrote:

“There is an atmosphere of peace and meditativeness that descends on the audience, when the champion walks in head lowered, spotlessly dressed, a wry look on his face, and a subliminal calmness reflecting off his body and mind. His wife and coach quietly sit in their boxes with no visible display of emotions. A gentle clap is all we will get from them on a point won or lost. And Federer himself plays the game from a deep center within. Aryton Senna, the greatest racer once said about his driving: “…And suddenly I realized that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension…”. The same could be true for Federer. Sometimes, one gets the feeling he operates on a different dimension, inaccessible to the common man or his opponents. The steely reserve, the quick resilience, and a supernatural ability to produce the most intricate stroke from the toughest of positions leave us baffled. And that is the zone where sports meets mysticism, a hallowed ground where nothing matters but the moment in hand, and what we do with it. Watching Federer play can sometimes unconsciously take us to that place”.

Roger Federer may perhaps continue playing the game at the highest level for some more time. We would love that. However, if we were to mark a moment in his career when we witnessed his usually impeccable game break down completely, and Federer the champion, looked utterly vulnerable and weak, it should be this Wimbledon quarter-final. In my mind, it marks the beginning of the end of one of the greatest sporting careers ever in any sport, and definitely in Tennis.

Yours in mortality,

Bala