Why I Loathe Roger Federer

            Let me begin by saying, as the father of two lovely daughters, I would love for them to bring home a man with Roger Federer’s qualities.  Federer is, by all accounts, a gentleman, a mensch even, faithful to his wife, and, perhaps the highest compliment, well liked by his competitors whom he generally dispatches with ease on the tennis court, and by Rafael Nadal, the only player who generally dispatches with Roger Federer.  My beef with Federer has nothing to do with his qualities as a human being, as these traits appear to be generally beyond reproach. 

            My rabid cheering for all of Federer ‘s opponents also has nothing to do with tennis aesthetics.  Federer is often described as an “artist”, his play is graceful and seemingly effortless.  He creates brilliant shot-making as a matter of course.  In tennis-speak, his ability to move from defense to offense is almost unrivaled (except, of course, by Nadal).  Watching Federer you have the feeling that you are watching tennis as it was meant to be played.  Again, nothing wrong with this.  

            What bothers me about Federer is how happily he wears the mantle of “Greatest Of  All Time”; the pleasure he exudes in winning tennis matches and being #1 is palpable.  Federer is the best.  He knows this.  This much I can live with.  The fact that this makes him so bloody happy is what makes me absolutely loathe him, and why I dance a jig every single time Nadal takes Federer to the woodshed.  So basically I am jealous of Roger Federer for having the good sense to enjoy the fruits of his talent and hard work.  Were he a tortured genius with a bad temper like John McEnroe, a grinding workaholic like Ivan Lendl, a lesbian like Martina Navratilova, an underachiever like Andy Roddick, if he had just one single trait to humanize him I could let go of my jealousy and enjoy the genius of Roger Federer.  But no, he is perfect and he wears gold trimmed outfits at Wimbledon.   Roger Federer, like Michael Jordan before him, has become temporarily immortal. 

            Federer is so perfect unto himself that his humanizing element had to manifest externally.  Rafael Nadal was put on earth for one reason, to beat Roger Federer.  By doing so repeatedly he made Federer human again, and allowed us to begin to love him.  But the second Rafa’s knees began to ache, in the blink of an eye Federer claimed his long coveted Roland Garros crown, recaptured Wimbledon (after teasing poor Andy Roddick), and dispatched Pete Sampras and his major title record to the dustbin of history.  Nadal’s human frailty catapulted Federer back to the heavens, where he is at his nausea-inducing happiest. 

           

            Please come back Rafa, and bring Roger Federer with you.  We miss him here on Earth.