Federer masterclass
It is just like a school reunion: here we all are again, then, watching Roger Federer begin the defence of his Wimbledon title. We’ve been doing this for years now – eight times in the past 15 years to be precise – and it never gets old.
Sure enough, the Swiss maestro did not disappoint, whistling past Dusan Lajovic 6-1, 6-3, 6-4 in just 79 minutes. There was hardly time to unpack the sandwiches before the champion was back in the locker room with his feet up, pondering his second round match.
“I felt good from the start which was nice,” Federer said. “I felt right at home again which was a really nice feeling and always got the early break in each set and was then able to bring it home. I’m very happy with focus, my point-for-point mentality – I think it worked very well today so I can be very happy.”
It has become part of tennis folklore and tradition (it may even be included in some training manuals) that the Great One is a fabulous frontrunner. Give Fed a lead and you might as well get your coat and call a taxi, particularly in the early rounds in SW19. For mere mortals, there just ain’t no way back and there hasn’t been since 2003, when the Swiss won the first of his 20 Grand Slam titles (yes, that is 20. It is not a typo) and the first of his eight Wimbledon trophies.
So, then, imagine that sinking feeling that must have crept over Lajovic after only four minutes when he stood on the baseline, preparing to serve, and staring at three break points. This was not good.
It got even worse a few seconds later when the defending champion dragged our Serbian hero this way and that around the back of the court and finally got his reward: a flailing racket thrust towards the ball, more in desperation than hope, and Lajovic’s shot flapped into the net. First blood Federer.
And so it went on. Lajovic tried hitting the ball harder; Federer sent it back even harder. He tried a bit of touch and finesse; Federer’s finesse was finer. And for a chap – albeit a Great Chap – hurtling towards his 37th birthday, Federer moved like greased lightning when he needed to. The first set was wrapped up in just 20 minutes.
When, finally, Lajovic managed to stop a run of nine successive games for his illustrious foe, the crowd was not quite sure what to do. Do we cheer and clap to acknowledge that the plucky world No.58 has got a game on the board in the second set? Or would that be rubbing his nose in it? It’s always a tricky one, that. They clapped anyway but did not labour the point.
This was the start of something of a resurgence for Lajovic – he was still losing but he was not losing quite so quickly. Last year in the second round, he had dared to push The Great One in the second round but he still lost in straight sets. That is what happens when you play Federer at The Championships: he does not give you an inch. With his seventh ace, the second set was safely secured.
No matter how you package Federer (and he is being packaged by a new clothing sponsor this year), the basic product remains exactly the same – too good for pretty much anyone on any surface. Put that brand leader on Centre Court and set him off in pursuit of his ninth title here, and he becomes a collectors’ item, priceless and beyond the reach of most on the planet.
Playing catch up
Lajovic did well enough to keep Federer within his sights in the third set but, broken in the opening game, he was always playing catch up. And he never caught up.
In fact, the only person to stop Federer was the young girl with the handmade sign that read “Roger, can I have your headband pleeeeeease?”. Running down to the side of the court, she waved her sign hopefully as Federer signed autograph after autograph. He walked past her once, he walked past her twice and then, on the third pass, he stopped, rummaged about in his kit bag and handed over the sweaty trophy.
At Federer’s next match, should you happen to notice an ageing, impoverished person with a sign reading “Roger, can I have the keys to your Mercedes pleeeeeeease,” it may or not be me.
