WIMBLEDON: Federer Downs British Hope to Claim 7th Title
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WIMBLEDON’S DANCE WITH HISTORY
There was a buzz like never before.
Yes, McEnroe and Borg had played on this court. There was “People’s Monday” when anyone come by and watch the Goran Ivanisevic-Pat Rafter final. And there was that epic ’08 Federer vs. Nadal final in the dusk. But this was different. “It was out of control,” said Tim Henman.
There was the Prime Minister – David Cameron, the soccer God – David Beckham and the Royal Clan – Camilla and Pippa. There were regular British folks from the Isle of Jersey and Americans from the state of Jersey.
They gathered – not so much for a tennis match (there have been thousands of them) or a men’s Wimbledon final (there have been 126 of them) – but for a singular dance, a dance with history.
For Roger Federer it was a matter of age, stats and honor. After a ‘sky is falling’ drought of two and a half years without a Slam title, could the maestro win his 17th Slam? Out on his beloved Centre Court, could he match the record of his idol Pete Sampras and win his seventh Wimbledon crown? Swiss journalists warned us, be careful what you say about the Royal Raj. Still, from broadcast studios to Henman Hill, analysts and fans – however foolish – dared whisper: “has this Picasso another masterpiece in him?”
For Andy Murray it was different. The sullen Scot was chasing ghosts – ghosts of opportunities lost, ghosts of shattered hopes and Centre Ghosts of a British nation that each year hosts the greatest festival in tennis and then watches (with such refined resignation) as uppity lads from distant lands lift the trophy. In these 76 years wars were won, walls were toppled. the Beatles invaded America. All the while in this land of Shakespere, Darwin and Churchill, the curious art of losing was perfected. Self-loathing –most sarcastic, yet oddly soothing – reached extraordinary heights.
But now there was a new spirit. May we call it the Spirit of 76. For the nation – gripped in quite a frenzy – dared to imagine that Scot Murray could become the first Brit in 76 years to win. There were plenty of good omens. The Olympics were coming. It was the Queen’s Jubilee. Murray had impressed critics in a (Tsonga and Ferrer-be-damned) run to the finals. Most of all, his nemesis Rafa Nadal, who suffered a shock upset, was sunning on Sardinia.
No wonder people were elated. Broadcaster Sue Barker gushed, “I have never seen a scene like this in all my years.”
“There’s a tingle all around Centre Court,” added the London Times’ Neil Harman. “There is a hum. We’re all going mad. How do we put this in perspective? It’s like nothing else in the world is happening. All focus is on SW19. Can you imagine hearing the words ‘game, set and match Murray?'”
As the best player of all time faced the best in British history, it was obvious that Murray – who had a winning record over Federer but had never won a set in three Slam finals against him – would be the uptight one. But, could it be, at the start it was Federer who seemed nervous and tentative as he missed a routine swinging forehand volley and was broken in the very first game.
Glum Murray (who now had a glum coach, Ivan Lendl who spent much of his career in a futile, Ahab-like search for a Wimbledon title) played with a surprisingly angst-free maturity. He battled with a brave aggression, stroked a brilliant volley, staved off three break points in the sixth game of the first set, blasted a message forehand (with a Lendl-like bravado) right at Royal Raj and, just when it seemed that the soaring Federer was going to be serving for the set, he forced Roger to miss a forehand and scored a key break.
Soon the first set was Murray’s. The Scot had proved he could handle the big stage and win a Grand Slam set off of Roger.
Murray continued to serve well. He moved with ease, played splendid defense and prevailed in long scintillating games with long (“it’s great to be in the golden age of tennis) rallies. He was in the ascendance, but somehow just could not deliver, failing to convert two break points in two different games.
Despite many an error, Federer weathered the Scottish storm and in a heartbeat struck two (“how’d he do that”) drop volleys to claim the second set 7-5.
Then the British skies opened. Rains fell and the roof was closed.
It may have been tea time, but the tea leaves were hard to read. Now the final would be a best of three match, but it would be indoors. Federer loves both order and the perfect conditions under the roof and yes, he has more indoor titles then anyone on the tour.
The Swiss lifted his game while Andy began to tumble. Hitting all out and in gear, Federer slowly gained control and, in the critical sixth game – which had 26 points and six break-points, three tumbles and took 19 minutes – Federer seized control with a definitive break. Doubt struck at British hearts and Murray showed us his problematic hang dog body language and looked up to his box, as if to ask the expressionless Mr.Lendl, “what can I do, there’s a genius here at work?”
Murray actually has a good record of coming back against Federer. But now his speed seemed diminished. His confidence dipped. His shots were errant. In contrast, the Swiss veteran, who was hoping to become the first man over 30 to win Wimbledon since Arthur Ashe in ’75, was playing with a belief that had been growing since he won the tournament in his hometown of Basel last Fall. Murray had slight openings, but overcooked a key forehand passing shot when Roger was vulnerable. And then after a cross-court Murray forehand sailed wide, Federer fell to the ground. He scored a 4-6, 7-5, 6-3, 6-4 triumph and once again the hopes of the British were dashed by a storm of reality.
Soon the usually impassive Murray was weeping in his post-match interview. He had not delivered. It’s not easy carrying the dreams of the land on one’s shoulders. Still, he joked that Federer is pretty good for a thirty-year old.
Pundits celebrated King Roger’s return to the throne – the No. 1 player in the world. Fans noted that tennis’ golden era was now gleaming with more glitter then ever. Pundits wondered whether Federer , Pele, Ali or Jordan was the greatest athlete of all time. And tennis historians debated whether this fortnight of wonders and upsets and upstarts, the best Wimbledon ever?
All the while, Murray offered one of the greatest understatements we’ve heard in a while. He sighed, and told the press that Wimbledon is “not an easy tournaments for Brits.”
No kidding. After all it’s a lot easier winning tennis championships then chasing ghosts.
