Jottings - Slice of life - 309 ( Roger Federer - the fusion of an artist and a mystic)

Jottings - Slice of life - 309 ( Roger Federer - the fusion of an artist and a mystic)
If tennis is likened to Painting, then Roger Federer is its Rembrandt revered for his mastery of depth, light, and color on the canvas; If tennis is Music, then Federer is its Mozart who could draw out infinite mesmerizing melodies on a single theme ; if Tennis is dance, the Federer is its Nijinsky whose irresistible energy, timing and dedication blurred the boundaries between the dance and the dancer; if tennis is fiction, then he is the incarnation of Dickens who was emblematic of immaculate structure and grace in every sentence; and If Tennis is religion, Federer is the very soul of the game epitomizing all that is best in the sport.
It is hardly imaginable what Tennis would be after Federer. Would the game produce one more champion in the same mold as he? Chances are bleak. However, the question, as of now, is merely hypothetical because the master is still in full flow, and in absolute command of his powers and artistry. The first week at Wimbledon, the champion looked subdued, rarely challenged; yet, for those of us who have seen Federer for two decades, we can sense that genius still at work at full throttle. In the three matches this week, Federer has spent only four and a half hours on court, rarely stretched to produce something magical. He is firing in his first serves with great ease and incredible regularity, scraping the T's with effortless ease. The percentage of approach shots to the net, and the delicate touches there to flummox his opponents were in full display in each of the matches. There is an effortless elegance to Federer's movement in court, which often resembles a deer prancing in controlled exuberance. At thirty-six years, Ferder's athleticism is still intact and his ability to reach balls that would elude the reach of younger players in the circuit defies reason and age. His wonderful backhand has not been at its best, but as Boris Becker, the great German champion of yesteryears commented during the third round " with every game, Federer is working on bringing that backhand to its natural flourish. the mark of champions is that they realize that no day on the court is perfect, there is always something to be worked upon, and the beauty is: they do realize those areas quickly, work upon it and succeed in reversing the inconsistency without letting the opponent sensing the weakness..". That is a beautiful insight from a man, whose tennis on the grass courts is legendary and who understands the artistry of game at the highest level.
Week number two at Wimbledon will stretch Federer. He is great enough to realize that the upcoming games will need him to perform at his peak. With each passing year, the average level of the game is increasing, and physical endurance required to play out top-class opponents can wear down the best of sportsmen. But then Federer knows that better than anyone else in the game. Before I conclude this short piece, a few words on the effect Federer has on the audience every time he walks into the court. There is an atmosphere of peace and meditativeness that descends on the audience, when the champion walks in head lowered, spotlessly dressed, a wry look on his face, and a subliminal calmness reflecting off his body and mind. His wife and coach quietly sit in their boxes with no visible display of emotions. A gentle clap is all we will get from them on a point won or lost. And Federer himself plays the game from a deep center within. Aryton Senna, the greatest racer once said about his driving: "...And suddenly I realized that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension...". The same could be true for Federer. Sometimes, one gets the feeling he operates on a different dimension, inaccessible to the common man or his opponents. The steely reserve, the quick resilience, and a supernatural ability to produce the most intricate stroke from the toughest of positions leave us baffled. And that is the zone where sports meets mysticism, a hallowed ground where nothing matters but the moment in hand, and what we do with it. Watching Federer play can sometimes unconsciously take us to that place.
God bless...
yours in mortality,
Bala


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