By Jimmy Wang
It’s the match-deciding point of Roger Federer’s last professional tennis match. He stands to receive service with Rafael Nadal at his side. Jack Sock, who is part of their opposing duo, whispers in Frances Tiafoe’s ear. He’s probably giving tactical advice, but it doesn’t matter to the crowd. Federer could be playing anyone and all eyes would still rest on him.
Pause. For any lesser player, this moment would be overwhelming. Knowing that your next few movements will cap off your career would surely lead to a tic or a breakdown of some sort. But Federer’s eyes remain locked on his opponent. Even in his last rally, he remains as stoic as ever. How?
Tennis is known for the violent outbursts of its players. Match after match, we see pros smash racquets, smash themselves with their racquets, and send balls flying off into the stands. Why can’t they control their temper?
Here, the qualities of tennis that make it unique from other sports give us insight. On the court and within each rally, the outcome is determined solely by your own actions. If you lose the point, you are always at fault. Or nearly always, since admittedly one’s opponent can hit a winner that’s impossible to return, but these situations are rare. Most points are lost by mis-hits and mistakes.
Hence, frustration mounts as the match progresses. One begins to feel hate towards their own capabilities and ultimately towards themselves. And when these emotions simmer past the boiling point, the player loses control.
Federer’s Rise
Federer was temperamental as a young player, but in the years before he dominated the men’s tour. Working with sports psychologist Christian Marcolli, he developed greater control of his emotions on the court. Then, in 2002, came the death of his former coach and close friend, Peter Carter.
This loss devastated, then rebuilt Federer. Carter’s funeral in Basel was attended by numerous major Swiss tennis players. One of them, Yves Allegro, remarked that “Roger was completely destroyed. It could be seen in the way he held himself. He didn’t stop crying.” Darren Cahill, a member of Federer’s team, remarked to him. “My friend, Peter would be damn proud of all that you’ve accomplished. Now, your sole task is to continue to make him proud.” In the following Davis Cup, Federer won three matches without dropping a single set and dedicated his victories to Carter. Next year, he won Wimbledon.
Phenomenal natural talent couldn’t achieve tennis greatness Federer. From the debut of his professional career in 1998, it took 5 years of battle with his inner flaws to climb to the first peak of his success. Which he has shattered again and again in his 24-year career. The inner world of the tennis match, with its ebb and flow of confidence and self-loathing, represents perfectly the greater journey of the player in defining their future.
Remaining Stoic
Sock hits his serve to Federer’s backhand. It’s a shot which has historically elicited as many groans of disappointment as gasps of admiration from spectators. Hit one-handed, the shot lets him project the ball with tremendous angles to everywhere on the court. But with it comes less stability, with more chances of crushing the ball into the net, or whacking it way out of bounds.
Federer stands and delivers. He’s so fast you can’t even see him fully take the racquet back. His arms part across his torso, then snap together behind his back with tremendous elasticity. The ball gets propelled over to Sock, who hits it right back to Federer’s backhand side. A grunt follows each of Sock’s forehands, while Federer stays silent. This repeats twice more.
Then the dance shifts. The ball’s now flying directly at Federer, who moves imperceptibly to his left to hit a forehand. It’s the best shot in his arsenal. Contradiction characterizes it: his racquet travels across his body with the smoothness of silk, yet it delivers Herculean levels of force. “A great liquid whip” was how writer David Foster Wallace described it in 2006, back in Federer’s prime, and more than a decade later it still holds true.
The shot, again, flies diagonally across the court to land at Sock’s forehand side. But this time he waits a fraction of a second before hitting the ball to change its direction. It whizzes past Nadal, who’s at the net, and had tried to anticipate the direction of Sock’s forehand by moving to the left. The ball lands comfortably within the doubles tramlines. It’s over.
“There are no fairy tale endings in sport”, said the commentator after this match. But for Federer to have gone out in such a way, by fighting to the last moment using the shots that both defined and hurt his career, is as fitting as it gets.