No, don’t even think of it.
Don’t dare suggest this was some kind of resurrection, let alone a born-again experience. In no way was this some great historical happening, say like General MacArthur claiming, “I will return,” and then battling his way back to capture the Philippines.
This wasn’t the long-persecuted Muhammad Ali coming back after six years in the desert to right his legacy. This wasn’t even Bjorn Borg returning after his premature retirement, or John McEnroe reemerging after a self-imposed seven-month sabbatical.
This was Roger. This was the return of the Almighty Federer.
After six seemingly endless months, tennis’ most beloved hero was again set to perform on a Grand Slam stage.
“The fans,” noted commentator Chris Bowers, “are desperate for Roger to get back to his winning ways.”
No kidding.
The 35-year-old may have collected 17 Slams, but now he was burdened with a very un-Federer-like No. 17 ranking. All about Rod Laver Arena, questions swirled. Will Roger be rusty or nervous or slow, or all of the above? In a word, could Roger again be Roger?
Here, where devotees first lifted signs that haughtily insisted, “Quiet, Genius at Work,” Federer fans expressed their unrestrained love. “It’s his humility, his stylish play and his dedication to his fans,” said one Federerian who sported the obligatory red face paint. “He invites everyone to love him with his natural ability,” added another. “No,” a giddy Aussie suggested, “It’s the way Roger always conducts himself…He’s only got a few years left. That’s why we’re here.”
So at 9:31 p.m., officials gathered, security guards stood stern and we imagined that even the seagulls hovering above were intrigued.
Fans rose in unison as the moment came and the announcer with the resonant voice proclaimed the words all of tennis had yearned for: “And from Switzerland, Roger Federer.”
Roger’s wife Mirka applauded. The Brisbane fan in row N wearing a Federer mask shouted loud, while Roger – like some venerable Shakespearian actor – slowly emerged out of the courtside passageway wearing a too-busy black and white outfit and what was described as a pair of “luminous orange shoes.”
The man, of course, was regal. His entrance had an understated theatrical flair. He’d been there before. Still, the throng was delighted, although rather relaxed.
After all, Roger would be playing a mere qualifier ranked No. 296, who actually was a couple of months older than Federer. But Jurgen Melzer would be no ordinary, wide-eyed qualifier. The wily left-handed veteran, who has scored many an upset, grew up with Roger and amidst feel-good celebration would hardly be in awe. Plus, the Austrian had to have some confidence after winning three Melbourne matches in a row, and yes he’d beaten Roger the last time they played. But that was six years ago.
Still, on this opening night, Melzer seemed fearless as his forehand punished Roger’s backhand. He won the first game in a merciless flash. But the Mighty Fed hardly blinked and held serve with ease. Then, 16 minutes into the fray, Melzer blasted a backhand winner to rain on everyone’s parade as he broke Roger to go up 4-2.
But there is good reason Melzer’s career record is just over .500. The fellow is a journeyman. Roger is an athletic wonder. And the Swiss remained unworried as he broke back and eventually won the first set 7-5 and went on to score a break in the second set.
Now Melzer was adrift. But then Federer blinked. His serve wavered, his volleys waffled and the Austrian charged the net and rudely pushed Roger back. Melzer had a Melbourne run as he grabbed the second set 6-3.
Yes, Roger was rusty. He suffered 36 unforced errors. But he was not about to lose to a rather ordinary foe. Federer broke early in the third set and let his forehand and his grace carry him to a happy, if choppy 7-5, 3-6, 6-2, 6-2 win.
The Aussies in their Federer caps sighed. The stars in the heavens had aligned. The sky was no longer was falling. The tennis world was back on its orbit.
After all, the Greatest Player of All Time was again winning matches on one of the greatest stages in our game. And the crowd’s mantra was clear, very clear: “Well, welcome back Roger, welcome back to where you belong.”
