Fed up

Being from the great city that is Chicago, I am more than familiar with the concept of the loyal yet continually disappointed sports fan. The Bears' Super Bowl drought is nearing the quarter-century mark; the Bulls are less than a shadow of the Jordan-led dream team that spoiled us with six national championships back in the 1990s (although this season's performance, ended yesterday with a hard-fought conclusion to a scintillating first-round playoff series with the defending champion Boston Celtics, provides some hope for the future); and of course, our Cubbies, the most lovable of losers (man I hate that cliché) are 101 years removed from their last World Series victory.

That having been established, those of you who know me know that I readily admit to being, at best, a fair-weather fan when it comes to those team sports that dominate the psyche of many Americans. My true passion lies with the sport of tennis. An avid follower of the game since age eleven, I love to play and immediately became a devoted follower of Pete Sampras. After his fairy tale career capping win at the 2002 U.S. Open, I thought I'd be hard pressed to find another player whose game and attitude could so capture my imagination, whose approach to tennis was so direct and whose playing style made it look so ridiculously easy. And then along came Roger Federer.

Simply put, Roger is Pete with a much more complete repertoire. I could elaborate on the fundamental soundness of every stroke in his arsenal or his deceptively deft footwork. I could sing praises to his unnatural ability to keep his eye on the ball at every single moment--even as his racket makes contact--and his perfectly calm facial expressions compared to the contortions all other top players exhibit while toiling on court. He is, in many ways, the perfect player, and up until a couple years ago, he proved it with his results.

How times have changed. Through 2007, even a modestly attentive tennis fan was shocked each time Roger lost a match, save maybe for those encounters with Rafael Nadal on clay. In the months since, however, there has been a shift almost completely in the opposite direction--it is now a pleasant surprise when he wins even the least prestigious of tournaments.

It is clear that this troublesome trend started in early 2008, when he lost his Australian Open title to Novak Djokovic, only to reveal several weeks later that he had in fact been suffering from a moderate case of mononucleosis. Fine. But even after he claimed to have been given a clean bill of health, the losses continued to mount, against his top rivals and ATP journeymen alike. Alarm bells truly started to sound when he lost his most beloved Wimbledon crown--he had won the title five years running--to top rival Nadal. It was, by all accounts, a devastating blow that helped ensure Rafa's takeover of the number one spot later that summer. In fact, the only large bright spot for Roger in all of 2008 (in singles, anyway--he did manage a very impressive gold-medal effort in doubles at the Beijing Olympics with countryman Stanislas Wawrinka) came at the U.S. Open, where, seemingly out of nowhere, he summoned his old dominance and romped to a thirteenth major title. Eight months later, though, that remains his largest recent accomplishment, and the losses sadly have continued to pile up.

I am not so much disappointed that he is losing. All great champions hit rough patches, and given what Roger has achieved already at age 27, it is understandable that the pace at which he adds to his trophy cabinet would decline. What bothers me much more is how he is losing. In several of his recent losses, especially those to top 4 players Djokovic and Andy Murray (who combined now account for four of his six losses this year, with Nadal beating him in the Australian Open final and Wawrinka winning against him for the first time after an admittedly half-hearted effort in Monte Carlo), he has actually played brilliantly, even like the Roger of 2006... for a set, anyway. He might start off well in the second set as well, but then inexplicably commences a barrage of the ugliest unforced errors that at times rival those of the average club player. He then inevitably loses his confidence and his drive to find a second wind, and by the time the match is over, I cannot help but be thankful that the torture session has ended. It is as if he puts himself in position to go for the kill, and then succumbs to an overwhelming sensation of doubt that paralyzes his genius. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it can be quite scary to witness.

Roger insists that he does not need a coach to guide him at this stage in his career. That may have been an acceptable argument when he was winning two or three Slams and four Masters 1000 events every year, but now it comes across as arrogant and reeks of denial. Results do not lie. Roger faces increasingly insurmountable mental battles with himself every time he walks on the court against these guys, and with each loss his confidence takes another hit. Now that he has just gotten married and has a baby on the way, it appears likely, if history is any predictor, that his game will simply continue to slide.

I have to admit, I nodded in agreement after reading the following comment on his Web site (triggered by his most recent woeful loss to Djokovic on clay in Rome):

"Tired of watching you lose -- get your head straight -- nothing wrong with your game that a clear head won't fix -- get a coach and a sports psych and get back on track -- you are not a quitter and that is what I saw today! Shame on you Roger -- if your love and passion for the game is gone then retire -- otherwise stop being so stubborn -- what you resist persists -- and your stubbornness is a sign of resistance -- you want to beat Nadal? you want to be #1 again? then get your head fixed. Losing to Djokovic is a joke -- but until you get your head on straight -- the joke is on you."

He needs to change his outlook, be it through a coach, a sports psychologist, or sheer inner determination to win. But change he must, and until he acquiesces, he will continue to waste the potential of these last prime years of his career. And if wasting his potential is satisfactory for him, then I agree: he may as well retire and save us all the emotional torment of watching him tarnish his legacy.