Six Australian Opens, eight Wimbledons and 20 grand slams all told, all in consummate style and none with a hint of a tantrum. Roger Federer has won all this, but merely to list his accomplishments is to understate them. Like Itzhak Perlman with the violin, he has risen so far doing what he does that he is revered by people who know little else about it. Like Hermann Maier on skis, he has returned to the top of his sport years after those who dared to doubt him thought his reign was over.
It was said yesterday that Federer still plays with childlike enthusiasm. If so it is tempered with a maturity few tennis players have ever matched. He pretended this was not so in his five-set classic against Marin Cilic, insisting afterwards that his thoughts were “all over the place all day”. It’s true that he lost two sets and true that in one he seemed ill at ease. But it was the nerveless champion in him that found a way back. His candour later was that of a player who knows that at 36 he still has the edge over players ten years younger in shot-making, footwork, strategy, mental strength and even stamina. “I could see he was feeling it,” he said of his opponent in the final set. Cilic is 29.
Unlike Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray, Federer has no recurrent injuries. Unlike Rafael Nadal, he has a fluidity of style that seems to let him play on as long as the sheer fun of it persuades him it is worth packing his bags again and heading for the airport.
Perhaps once in a generation champions come along who transcend sport itself. Usually such claims are undermined by the breathlessness of those who make them, but there has never been any need for hype in Federer’s case. He has now won twice as many Australian titles and twice as many Wimbledon trophies as Rod Laver, who was in the Melbourne arena that bears his name. “He’s the best,” Federer said, through tears. Not quite.