Over the past many years scientists at CERN have kept themselves busy in their quest for a god particle (please read it as the Higgs boson particle if you belong to any scientific community). But they seem to have overlooked something - not a particle, but a phenomenon - a phenomenon with exuberant energy, resplendent renditions and uncomparable consistency. A phenomenon that defined elegance in action through gentle slices and a genteel face. A phenomenon that has scintillated on the lawns of the All English Club better than anywhere else - yes, the phenomenal Roger Federer.
The center court at the Wimbledon had begun to fade its greenery from lively to sober after two weeks of action in the Championships. The grass on either side of the courts were stampeded to a design on the lawn - an hour-glass with an invisible neck. But the beauty of the game evolved along, spending short laments on the ousted giants and extolling lumps on promising novices. The likes of Julien Benneteau and Lukas Rosol kindled amusement in the fans, and it became heartening to see the flag of unpredictability held high by the top seeds too. The semi-finals line up was analyzed as an unbalanced one, for the first and the third seeds, veterans of the game clashed on one side whereas the fourth and the fifth, comparably less favoured, clashed on the other. Djokovic - Federer match was a beautiful melodrama, complete in every aspect of valour, vigour and vengeance. It is a crime to not praise Andy Murray and Jo Wilfried Tsonga who together exhibited a memorable clash of heroes who always were shadowed by superheroes. After the match, Murray and Tsonga departed like familiar friends who just showed how good people who play second fiddle really are. A mocked moaner for years, Murray came out of criticism unscathed, and now stands tall to play host against Federer in the Gentlemen's Finals of Wimbledon 2012.
Djokovic faced Federer for an incredible 27th time in his career, and was favourited to win through another mesmerising comeback if not with ease. And match results very well showed how hard it was to be a loyal supporter, be of Federer or Djokovic or anybody else or any sports team or anything. From a slew of victorious highs, a fan plummets to unfathomable dooms at the taste of defeat. And against all odds and gods, a fan hopes his favourite wins, no matter what. Djoker and Fedex started the game on Friday evening with thousands of such fans for their support, and the audience gathered at the centre-court, as usual, were well articulate with their frequent oohs of amuse and aahs of delight. Everybody who foresaw in every Djokovic point a guillotine chopping Fedex out of the tournament (similar to what happened at the Rolland Garros last month), was very, very wrong. This time. Or many more times to come. The maestro Federer stroked the ball to every nook and corner of the court, gracing every grass on the court, and all that Djokovic could do was to let out guttural cries of despair as he panted for air amidst his scrambled runs for ball right and left, up and down. Federer, the God's man, dictated from his stolid stance like a conductor of an orchestra - staves flew from his racquet and music was in the air. The men drilled each other through remarkable rallies, and the one who persevered more earned a point. Most rallies saw atleast half a dozen backhand slices from Federer, and half of them flew so close and across the net that there was a momentary delay of paused breaths and stopped heartbeats of the bemused crowd before they let out cries and chants of amazement.
Long live Roger Federer the poet, words fail to describe the majesty of Federer's compositions. The divine execution of the anti-choker-the Djoker forms the befitting epithet of the God's man. Roger that.
Djokovic faced Federer for an incredible 27th time in his career, and was favourited to win through another mesmerising comeback if not with ease. And match results very well showed how hard it was to be a loyal supporter, be of Federer or Djokovic or anybody else or any sports team or anything. From a slew of victorious highs, a fan plummets to unfathomable dooms at the taste of defeat. And against all odds and gods, a fan hopes his favourite wins, no matter what. Djoker and Fedex started the game on Friday evening with thousands of such fans for their support, and the audience gathered at the centre-court, as usual, were well articulate with their frequent oohs of amuse and aahs of delight. Everybody who foresaw in every Djokovic point a guillotine chopping Fedex out of the tournament (similar to what happened at the Rolland Garros last month), was very, very wrong. This time. Or many more times to come. The maestro Federer stroked the ball to every nook and corner of the court, gracing every grass on the court, and all that Djokovic could do was to let out guttural cries of despair as he panted for air amidst his scrambled runs for ball right and left, up and down. Federer, the God's man, dictated from his stolid stance like a conductor of an orchestra - staves flew from his racquet and music was in the air. The men drilled each other through remarkable rallies, and the one who persevered more earned a point. Most rallies saw atleast half a dozen backhand slices from Federer, and half of them flew so close and across the net that there was a momentary delay of paused breaths and stopped heartbeats of the bemused crowd before they let out cries and chants of amazement.
Image Courtesy: www.telegraph.co.uk
Djokovic won the second set only to prove he is ranked number one in the world. Federer won three sets (in none of them, more than ten games were played, no tie-breakers) to win the match and many hearts he had won and then lost in the past, and more importantly, to establish that he is the all-time best in tennis. It is not an early conclusion that I have drawn here. It is time. It is time Federer is crowned with the eternal glory, for all the beauty he has imparted to this game. But for fans' sake, Federer should win his 17th Grand Slam this Wimbledon, or else it will become an elusive one soon. Although Federer considers that he has achieved much more than what he thought he would, and everything additional is a bonus, the insatiable fans need more - trophies, triumphs and some trifling tragedies to keep the humbleness intact. Long live Roger Federer the poet, words fail to describe the majesty of Federer's compositions. The divine execution of the anti-choker-the Djoker forms the befitting epithet of the God's man. Roger that.
