A letter to Roger Federer

right in the middle

Dear Roger

I know you don’t need this when you already carry 103 tennis titles including 20 grand slams. You have walked with the likes of Michael Jordan and Muhammad Ali. And I, an unknown admirer from southern India, have seen you waltz your way to victory for 20 years on a small television screen. I have rejoiced in your successes and mourned your defeats. I have prayed to all the gods I know to somehow make you win when you were two sets down. I have closed my eyes during that crucial tournament point because I did not want to see you defeated. I have seen you splayed on the court later, eyes wet with tears of joy.

Dear Roger, you must have received thousands of foolish notes like this one. You have walked with royalty, played with giants and partied after every victory like a rock star. Your world and mine are aeons apart. But I feel that I am in elite company during your matches, surrounded by millions of besotted fans like myself who miss a heartbeat when you lose a point. Or go crazy when you hold aloft your prize won by simply spinning a yellow ball with a tiny flick of your wrist.

Roger, I am just one more of the vast congregation of spectators around the world who foolishly thinks you are playing for me as all of them do. I also believe there is a special connection between us which makes me feel every emotion that you feel on the tennis court. Your victories are my victories. Your losses are mine too.

Does all this sound crazy? Ask any soccer fan about Messi. Or a cricket fan about Bradman. You would have intruded into a very private space. I feel the same way about you. I sincerely believe, like thousands of other fans, that nobody understands the nuances of your game or even the nuances of temperament that drive your game, like I do.

This is what a sport like tennis does to you. I never held a racquet in my life. So, I don’t know what it feels like to hang it up after two decades of wielding it like a weapon of war. All I know is how much you are going to miss that Elysian walk down the imposing corridors of the All England club, ending with Kipling’s counsel “If you can meet success and failure and treat them both as impostors…” which you glanced at every time before you stepped out into battle amidst the applause of cheering crowds. That message finally went home
in 2019 when you lost by a whisker to Djokovic at the same venue after a gruelling 5-hour battle. By defeating the two imposters then and regaining your composure, you won the greatest grand slam ever.

Adieu Roger.