Muhammad Ali was a superlative boxer, but he was also a political activist. His refusal to serve in Vietnam was a symbolic moment in that divisive conflict, and his advocacy for black advancement became a provocative dimension within the civil rights phantasmagoria. Many books about 20th-century American history reference Ali, not just as a sportsman but as a cultural icon.
One could say similar things about Billie Jean King, who was a fine tennis player but also an advocate for Title IX, which banned sexual discrimination in schools, the founder of the WTA, and whose role in gay rights was most visible when she was outed in 1981. “Within 24 hours, I lost all my endorsements; I lost everything,” she would later say.
There are many other examples. Joe Louis, the boxer, sent shockwaves around the world with his revenge victory over Max Schmeling, a German boxer supported (not entirely with his consent) by Adolf Hitler, in 1938. The feats of Jesse Owens at the Berlin Olympics were also infused with political symbolism. Sir Donald Bradman was a peerless cricketer but also came to symbolise the growing self-esteem of a young, uncertain nation. No history of Australia would be complete without reference to “The Don”.
These examples, and dozens like them, testify to the extent to which sport is enmeshed within the social fabric. Some athletes, such as King and Ali, actively used the platform provided by their status to support political causes, while others, such as Bradman, were not active campaigners but came to reflect, and perhaps even inspire, wider social trends. In both cases, we see sport as iconography, how feats of athleticism transcend the white lines.
And this brings me to Roger Federer. The Swiss is widely regarded as a tennis player nonpareil, but it is difficult to pretend that his pronouncements or feats are imbued with conspicuous political significance. He isn’t black, he isn’t a woman, he doesn’t compete for a nascent country, he isn’t gay, he isn’t mixed race, and he doesn’t put himself forward as a political commentator, still less an agitator. He is white, middle class, male — and brilliant.
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For many, the lack of political impact is a key reason why Federer cannot be considered the greatest sportsman. Since his victory at Wimbledon, it has been said that he doesn’t cut the mustard when compared to, say, Ali — and anyone who incorporates social influence within the rubric of sporting greatness might be inclined to agree. But, having watched Federer at close quarters over the past fortnight, I would wish to insert a few reasons as to why he has, indeed, had impact, but in quiet and understated ways.
Federer, you see, has a quality rather underrated in the modern world: courtesy. He treats his opponents with respect, rarely quarrels with the umpire and conducts interviews with charm and attentiveness. In the fourth set of the Australian Open final against Rafael Nadal, there was a gruelling rally that climaxed with a wonderful, lunging forehand slice by the Spaniard. Federer instantly applauded the stroke, and shot a generous smile at his rival.
In a sporting world rife with trash talk, abuse of referees and disdainful press conferences, the adoption of this quality could be transformative. Transmitted into the wider world — one of Twitter invective, online bullying and disrespect for authority — it could be revolutionary.
Federer is also a devoted father and husband. I guess I am not alone in having been moved by one of the animating reasons for continuing to pursue tennis into his late thirties: he wishes to be active at a time when his twin daughters (now nine) are old enough to understand the significance of what he is doing (his three-year-old twin sons are too young). In an interview last week, he said: “My life continues after tennis too. And at this point that’s almost more important than playing itself . . . I want to be a good dad and a good husband . . .” If social influence is part of what it means to be great, then Federer’s impact on the most important people in his life is surely a positive.
He is also somebody who seems to regard winning as less important than the values that underpin the game. I seriously doubt that Federer would take drugs in order to win, or target an opponent with abuse during the coin toss, even if he thought that it would give him a decisive advantage. He is ruthless and determined, but within the context of the rules, and what he perceives to be the spirit of the game. Doesn’t this attitude, too, have significance both within and beyond sport?
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Federer is also politically discreet, a quality that will be regarded as a negative by those who warm to full-throated activism, but which has positives too. Nobody would deny that vigorous discourse is a healthy thing in a democracy, but doesn’t debate come with a concomitant responsibility to read about the issues first? How could one not look askance at those who use the platform of celebrity to pontificate on complex subjects without first attempting to understand them? In this context, the political discretion of Federer is almost refreshing.
And Federer has another positive: he could not easily be described as hypocritical, a word that applies to at least a few of those who engage in public preaching. While Ali, for example, was proclaiming black emancipation, he was also consorting with the Ku Klux Klan, and while he was preaching sexual abstinence, he was living a life of rampant promiscuity. Federer is rarely accused of hypocrisy because he doesn’t pretend to be something he is not. Instead, he merely tries to be the best tennis player that he can be.
None of this is to diminish the significance of the achievements of Ali, King and the like — they were powerful and world-changing. It is merely to suggest that there are lessons to take from Federer too. We all know about his self-belief, perhaps most eloquently testified to by his winning two grand-slam titles at 35, after a four-and-a-half-year drought when he was widely written off.
We all know about the elegance he brings to a tennis court and the sweetness with which he times the ball. But we should not forget that he embodies other lessons too. If more people were like Federer — courteous, respectful and mindful of their personal responsibilities — the world would be a far better place. These qualities are not add-ons to civilisation, they are the mortar that holds it together. Without a critical mass of people willing to abide by the rules, to do their duty and to act with civility, society couldn’t function. These may seem trivial when compared to crusading social movements, but they may be the most important things of all.
So, here is a shout-out to “The Fed” as one of the finest of sportsmen. He would never thrust himself forward as a role model, but isn’t this rather refreshing too? He is not perfect and has sometimes become rather irate after defeat, but he is a person of courtesy and honour. Oh, and he plays tennis from the heavens.